Whaddup, I’m Elle, and this is my private, highly selective roleplay blog for Harry Hook from Disney’s Descendants franchise, originally established October 2020 and rebooted August 2021. First off, I’m 30, so if that scares you, run away now. Secondly, yes, there will be mature content on this blog. There will be dark, violent, sexual, and all around explicit material from time to time. I draw from both the movies and the books as inspiration, but this blog is also highly headcanon based. And it’s low activity.
Not only did he know she was lying, but he knew that *she* knew that he knew, so what even was the point? Harry didn't believe for a moment that he could stop CJ from being an idiot, but lying about it didn't seem to be anything but a waste of time. Going by the grin on CJ's face, Harry wasn't sure she agreed with him as much as she was amused - probably giving herself points for thinking she got under his skin, if Harry had to guess. Bratty little thing.
"And what if I am?" CJ tossed back, in full sassy lost child mode that made him want to drop kick her to the crocs.
Instead Harry rolled his at her and debated for a single, glorious moment the merit of throwing her over his shoulder before throwing her in a brig somewhere to stay put, but she'd likely gnaw her way out like a rodent and stab him before they got there, little monster that she was. It wasn't that Harry didn't understand the importance of keeping your plans secret and watching out for trouble and betrayal, but it was h*im. It was almost enough to make him want to rat her out to Harriet.
"Well," He drawled, showing what he thought was a great amount of control for someone having to talk to CJ for more than two minutes at a time. "I guess that means I'll just have to go with you and make sure you don't have any fun."
"Well, since you asked nicely," He drawled, pretending to be put out about it as he moved to settle behind Allie. He'd asked if there was something that could help perk the wilted flower up and while he hadn't expected Allie to name anything, to actually offer any reply besides not wanting to be a bother, that didn't mean Harry was going to go back on his word to her. He had sisters, it wasn't like Harry was a stranger to complaints about bobby pins and braids or the complaints of how a scalp could tingle after letting their hair down, so it wasn't shocking to him that Allie might be soothed by having her hair played with.
There were a few flowers decorating her hair and Harry took care in removing them, setting them aside and in Allie's view, the motion of his hand immediately detected by the way she chirped "Oh, thank you!", the flower disappearing into her lap. All the rest of the flowers soon disappeared in a similar manner and Harry carded his fingers through the slick strands, twisting one of them around his finger.
"I could braid it for you, you know. Stick those flowers back in." He offered before giving a little tug at her hair and releasing it. "But only if you promise not to go around bragging about your new stylist, got it?"
@calithal asked: ❝ i haven’t been hugged in years. ❞ dramatic bitch
"CJ, I'm hugging you right now", Harry pointed out with a roll of his eyes, but he didn't loosen his hold on CJ as he glanced at the clock, the spinning of the arrows along the numbered face as good as meaningless to him. Someone would be back soon to check on CJ, Lani or Harriet or someone like that, but Harry wasn't in a rush as he rubbed at CJ's back, feeling the knots of her spine even through the material of her shirt.
CJ squirmed in his hold before stilling, her hold on his shirt going limp and she seemed almost tragically similar to his vague memories of her as a baby. Whatever they gave her must have been strong because that was the only explanation that Harry could come up with for why CJ of all people was being so docile, almost boneless in his arms and when had he last seen CJ so still? Even her sleep didn't seem this still.
There was a pillow behind Harry's back to give him something different than the wall to prop against and he reached behind himself to straighten it. "You better not fall asleep and drool on me." He threatened, more to check on CJ than to complain about the idea.
"Like my slobber wouldn't make you look better." Came the reply, complete with a pinch to his ribs, a far less violent reaction than Harry would have expected if it wasn't for the drugs in her system. "Just keep me from falling, asshole."
Resting his chin on CJ's head, Harry sighed. "No problem, Ceej." He murmured, not caring if she heard or not. "I won't let you fall."
@songeurame asked: ❛ i’ll be good, i promise. ❜ -- nerina
"You sure about that? Seems like a pretty big promise for you to make," Harry teased, Nerina's chin caught in his hand with the same surety that he was caught up in her big, pleading eyes. For someone so playfully unruly, she'd mastered the art of pouty innocence and maybe those two things were related, a way of helping ensure she got away with her latest little scheme. Either way, Harry didn't believe her for a moment, his hand slipping from her face to her hair, twisting in long, wet strands and pulling.
"You're still in trouble." This big eyes couldn't get her out of everything and the more she tried, the more resistant Harry became to them - or so he wanted to think. It was still oh so tempting to cave to her and if she tried to get out of facing the consequences again, he may just have to gag her. "Are you going to accept that or not?"
With her juices slicking his fingers, Harry knew exactly how bad she wanted him, but he also knew that she could do better when it came to begging. Giving a little chuckle at her enthusiasm, he swiped his thumb teasingly across her clit before pulling his fingers from the welcoming heat of her body, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
"Harry." His name escaped her in a whine and Julie rolled her hips beseechingly, but didn't grab at his wrist to keep his hand in place, instead sinking her nails further in the skin of his shoulders.
"Good girl." It didn't matter if she didn't know why he said it, just that she knew she wasn't losing the touch for doing something wrong. She'd be much happier in a minute, but Harry didn't pass up the chance to crush her body against his chest, taking advantage of Julie's position in his lap to cup her ass and kiss her deeply, a small noise escaping Julie's throat in response. Nipping at her bottom lip as he pulled away, Harry twisted them on the little couch they were perched on and slipped his hand behind Julie's head to ensure it didn't hit anything.
With that one motion, Harry found himself hovering above Julie, her body spread out beneath him and her skirt hiked up enticingly around her upper thighs, a blush staining her face. "Please," Julie murmured, licking her lips as her hands reached for Harry's belt, the temptation to let her have her way, to simply *have her*, rippling through him.
Grabbing one slender leg and guiding it to rest over the back of the couch so that she lay spread open beneath him, the desire grew stronger in Harry as Julie's skirt no longer hid her flushed folds, instead leaving Julie exposed for him. He wanted to make her cum, wanted to make her fall apart and shudder until she felt too rung out to take another touch, and Harry batted Julie's hands away from his belt before shifting down her body, a kiss pressed against the tummy still covered by her shirt.
She squirmed below him, the leg not thrown over the couch coming back to wrap around him as her fingers found his hair. "You're teasing me." She whined in complaint, right before Harry ducked even lower, pressing one kiss to the inside of her thigh before pressing his face between her legs. A little pleased sigh left Julie at the first lap of his tongue against her core and the fingers in his hair tightened, but she didn't accuse him of teasing again.
while he speaks, her expression settles and the fairy’s heart doesn’t feel as if it’s about to fall out of her chest anymore. a soft smile tugs at the corners of her mouth, eyes brightening as the conversation moves towards something that she’s very familiar with, something that makes her beam. “ yeah! you can make almost any flower better if you’re willing to put the work in. and i love glitter! ” baby blue hues find her lap slowly as harry sits next to her, fingers fiddling with the fabric of her skirt as she opens her mouth to talk again, voice timid. “ sorry i got a little upset, i just … people tend to throw away wilted flowers, so i got worried. it’s really nice of you to keep me around! ”
Nice to keep her around, fucking hell. Dealing with upset people (not that she seemed upset at the moment, she seemed fucking happy) wasn't Harry's strongest skill, but it was something that he kept needing to work on since the invasion and since it was Allie, he was already resigned to having to explain things to her nicely. Reaching out, he patted at her hand instead of taking it within his own and if anyone asked, it could have been nothing more than a gesture to make her pay attention. "Do you know how the Isle would get things?" He asked, watching Allie intently. "People would throw things away and it would come here. We got their cast offs, their trash and garbage, we lived on the things that weren't good enough for most people anymore, and we learned ow to give it worth again. Being wilted doesn't mean being disposable around here."
corinne knew she was daring someone to use her hair against her with it down the way it was, but it was difficult for one to put their hair up when their hands shook so uncontrollably. they were steady now, because she needed them to be. no one need know how shaken she truly was. her knuckles gripped the handle of the bucket so that they turned white with the effort. “oh–” she awkwardly looked down at her feet. and here she thought she might be of some help. no, corinne did not want to talk about the shop or think of the atrocities that took place inside. but it was a part of her, wasn’t it? it would be her legacy one day, however much it hurt. “well, it’ll still be a little bit before we’re up and running again. you can peek inside if you want, but it’s still pretty banged up.”
Weird, wasn't she supposed to be proud of her shop? Harry was under the impression that she liked her job and what she did, so why was she so awkward all of a sudden? Maybe just sad over the destruction of the shop, it wasn't like he was a professional that knew how people reacted to trauma, so no point in pondering on it. "Nah, I'll take your word for it. You're the professional butcher here, not me." And he didn't really care about the shop, at least not the way he told Rini that he did. "Unless that's where you're going with that bucket, then you can give me the tour." With a nod at the aforementioned bucket, Harry held out his hand to take it if she wanted help, something that was often in short supply on the isle, especially considering what had happened. "Seems like at least you made it through in one piece."
the pining, the aching, the wishing, and hoping; it's what you whisper to yourself under the cover of darkness as you fall asleep thinking of them. it's the text you've typed out and deleted before sending at least a dozen times. it's the countless pictures of them you have of them on your phone, the home screen image of their smile that you know will give you away the next time they jokingly swipe your phone. it sits restless and suffocating at the back of your throat. rip dude, i know how that is.
tagged by: @tiderider (ty!)
tagging: No one BC I assume you’ve all done it at this point.
“no?” to be fair, gil only had a vague understanding of what a ‘cannibal’ was, but he assumed that wasn’t what he was doing. “i just like ‘em. and i like you?”
“Okay. Just wondering if you were gonna try taking a bite out of me.” He was, after all, a snack. “Good job, Gil, I think you just came up with a new kind of nickname.” One that wasn’t any weirder than pumpkin or sweetie pie, when you thought about it.
the ocean was just as silent as it had been just after the conflict. most merpeople were tending to their homes and clearing out the rubbish left behind from the many naval battles. even the neverland mermaids were bizarrely quiet as of late. the fish mourned their innocent dead and the hermit crabs made homes out of small lost treasures from the decimated fleets. where there so much chaos above the surface, it was eerily quiet below it. no, the citizens of the sea hadn’t seen nearly as much catastrophe, but their homes had been used as a battleground without their permission. few were willing to speak with those on the surface– nerina happened to be one of them.
it didn’t bother nerina that harry never used her preferred nickname. to her, it meant that he cared. she grabbed onto the edge of the dock and pulled herself out of the water to sit next to him. a bright shimmering rainbow of scales with a blue and pink fin (akin to that of the tropical parrotfish) glowed in the sunlight as her tail left the water. strings of pearls adorned her waist and hips with a conch shell resting easily on her left hip. “i didn’t bring you anything,” she teased with a pout. “but i am hungry.”
"You're always hungry." There was a roll of his eyes, but Harry's tone sounded almost fond, grateful for something that was still so heartachingly the same after so much decimation. With most of the people he saw day to day, Harry was confronted with evidence of frailty and trauma, the people important to him injured in ways that he couldn't do anything about, and those that weren't important to him were all subject to doubts about their loyalty. Nerina was exempt from that and it was an unexpected gift that Harry doubted the mermaid realized she offered.
Pulling open his coat to dig inside an inner pocket, Harry soon pulled out two different bags, both of them snacks for Nerina that he handed over. "Took a bag of gummi bears off some guy earlier. No idea if they taste like shit or not, but I figured that you could try them out." Going through the pockets of the dead wasn't theft in Harry's mind, it was practical. It helped lead to identifying the bodies and making sure they got back to the right places, and in this case, he doubted the guy was going to come back for his candy. Or at least Harry hoped not, there had been enough fighting the dead on the beach for him.
Agnieszka was, as she had been for the last hour or two, combing through pockets and bags in the hope of finding a bit of something interesting. So far she had amassed a handful of bizarre coins, a bracelet laid with bright blue gems that looked like glass, two particularly shiny knives, and a score of bronze-colored metal buttons. She was in the process of prying a necklace from its bloated former-owner when the noises of approach reached her ahead of an approacher. It was bold, that was certain, to march up to the catacombs with .. something that rattled and squeaked. Too tired -too unwilling- to invoke the whispers, she let herself melt; a soft gasp that echoed, lightly, and then naught but shadows sat in the tunnel. And so it was that nothing but darkness loomed before whomever-dared-enter… but it was only Harry-friend-of-Flea. And he was clever enough to know she was the shadows, or somewhere in them. (Or did he know because she had been meant to meet him? If that were true, she had forgotten.)
“If I was Katja,” she told him pleasantly, from nowhere, “you might be dead already.” Her giggle echoed. Jagna parted from the shadows to form, again, at his shoulder. Her hair rustled as it settled back down around her shoulders, shadows settling back into something solid. She dropped into a crouch to examine his cart. One finger sprouted from the end of a sleeve and poked at the nearest wheel. “What is this? And why does it smell funny?”
Her voice surrounded him and Harry's head turned up instinctively, searching for her in the dark curiously. "Lucky me for not finding Katja." The mention of his death didn't bother Harry much, he knew just how dangerous Jagna and her siblings were, and perhaps that was why he still tensed up as she appeared from the shadows at his side, a little ghost of a girl curious to see what toy she'd been brought.
"It's a cart of some kind. There's a name for it, but fuck if I remember what." Ships were his expertise, not strips of wood that formed bastardized sleds for hauling the dead. "You could be smelling the dead bodies, or you could be smelling herbs on it, I don't know. The only I can smell is decomposing." And whatever scent it was that came along with being in the catacombs. Wet earth, was that the scent? "Not sure if the herbs are more for covering up the dead body smell or trying to make sure they stay dead and no spirits come back for them. There's been a lot of talk going on about ghosts and possession. I'd usually call them paranoid and cowards, but after everything else that's happened, seems like that would be on track." Would it be asking too much for things to just be over so the clean up could begin? Sometimes it seemed like the Isle itself was cursed, that it had soaked up too much ill intent from the villains and now oozed it right back out, a rotten seed for their children to harvest. "This is your home, so tell me where you want to start."
“The Good Fight” Ada Limón, “Infinite Jest” David Foster Wallace, “Ophelia” John Everett Millais, “Red Doc” Anne Carson, “I wanted to be the knife” Sara Sutterlin, “A primer for the small weird loves” Richard Siken, “First memory” Louise Glück.
