#fun banter

[theconfusedcorvid]

Just scrolled through tumblr after reading phm and I’m disappointed to find a distinct lack of people shipping grace and lokken

[nullpointr]

todays episode was SO good, holy shit

[imnotwolverine]

Good enough

Henry Cavill x reader drabble

Disclaimer: angsty fluff, insecurity, slight possessiveness, some strong language (and tickle danger)

Word count: 1.769

Author’s note: On request of a dear Nonnie: “could u write something about henry comforting the reader when she feels insecure in their relationship?” + fluffy. Now, nonnie, I think Henry has all kinds of ways to comfort his lady, but this? After a few drinks? Definitely. 

Song I listened to while writing: Matt Corby - Miracle Love

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Oh! These darn long legs. Those unblemished skins that basked in luxurious licks of expensive French cosmetics, finished off with whiter than white million dollar smiles. Literal million dollar smiles. 

All night you just stood there, watching one after the other cookie cutter beauty “casually” greet Henry. You just stood there and stood there, sipping on boozy drinks as you watched one after the other, old and young, bold and beautiful, try a best attempt at some “innocent little flirtation”. Especially when you pretended not to hear them over the loud noise of the after party.

But you could. 

Oh yes you could. 

You weren’t deaf, you weren’t blind, and despite your best efforts to just let it slide, your painted lips turned into fake a smile..you couldn’t help but let it affect you. 

It hurt. 

You were no cookie cutter beauty. Peculiar, perhaps. Unique, your mom would say. But as the night progressed it appeared that unique, peculiar beauty brought you nothing but the sensation that you didn’t belong. That you weren’t thin enough, that your boobs weren’t big enough, you face not symmetric enough. 

Just not enough. At least not the be here with Henry. 

Returning home after what seemed like the longest cab drive ever - once more because maddening crowds couldn’t leave your celebrity boo alone -, all you truly wanted was to just close your eyes and forget about it all. Your shared bed beckoned you to come, was willing you to dive into its warm, silky embrace.  

Henry, however, had other plans. 

As the two of you maneuvered around the living room, slightly inebriated after a cocktail too many, you felt his eyes on you. Which meant you either had to get to bed real fucking fast, or just give in. Not that is was a bad thing. Henry was rock in the turmoil of your life. He always wanted you, showed it in every way possible and if he needed to tell you a million times how much he loved you, he would say it a trillion times. 

And when he gave you that look, like he did right now, it was clear that he was very adamant on showing you yet again how much he loved you. He would envelop you in his arms and kiss every little concern away. 

Because he was a good man. He knew when you weren’t feeling okay. 

And he cared. 

Tonight though, you didn’t feel up to it, your face pulled into a dark frown as you struggled to get out of the painful contraptions that were your high heels. Finally, after some awkward tugs, the little straps released your sore feet and you quickly made for the stairs. Not quick enough though. Strong arms enveloping you, just as expected. 

‘Hey you.’ Henry hummed, the alcohol running thick in his bear-like veins, his voice slightly husky. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t possible escape the steel strength that lingered beneath his warm skinned arms. 

‘Henn..I’m tired..just let me go to..’ - ‘Are you okay?’ He easily broke off your half-arsed attempt to fend him off, his voice now far more gentle and inquisitive, blue eyes searching yours as he turned you in his iron lock of love. You sighed, your frustration quickly sinking away as those ocean blue orbs studied you, willing you to break down whatever wall you were building up. 

‘It’s fine.’ 

‘Fine?’ 

‘Yea..fine. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re all fine! UGH! Now just..’ You tried to push his arms away before the last of your frustration was taken away by him again. Somehow you wanted to feel frustrated for a bit. You had the right to be frustrated, right? Who wouldn’t be frustrated after..after..this? 

Henry licked his lips, his brows furrowing in a thoughtful frown. ‘No.’ He simply stated, which made you frown in turn. ‘No? No what Henry?’ 

‘Just no. You’re not fine.’ He shook his head once, as if that was decided, then cupped your cheek in one hand, keeping the other safely wrapped around your lower back. ‘And either I’m going to guess all night till I get it right. Or you’re going to tell me what is up.’ 

You rolled your eyes. ‘Hennn...ugh..come on let’s just go to sleep. It’s nothing, really.’ 

‘Hmm..very well then.’ Henry’s face relaxed, a glint of cheekiness etching his lips and before you could even question what was up, you were lifted into the air and thrown over his shoulder, your pretty Greek-inspired gown making you look like the helpless Persephone as she was stolen away by Hades. Squirming like a little leaf that weighed nothing in the clutch of his bear hands. 

‘HENN! PUT ME DOWN!’ 

‘Shh..the neighbors.’ He teased, patting your butt playfully. 

‘Henn..’ You warned more quietly now. ‘I’m not in the mood...’ 

‘I know, I know. And I promise you’ll get to bed soon enough. But first..’ He moved you to the couch and carefully placed you in your favourite spot in the corner, licking his lips again as he settled next to you, folding your legs over his lap like you always liked to them be when you were together. Watching movies or just cuddling.  

‘Hmmm...maybe it’s the shoes? Hmm? Painful shoes?’ 

You didn’t respond, just watching him as he picked up your feet, strong digits starting to massage the painful skin there, rubbing away all sore spots with mighty precision. You sighed quietly, closing your eyes for a moment - it was good. 

‘Mmm..’ He peeked back at you, then shook his head. ‘Nope, it’s not that.’ He stopped his massage instantaneously. You swatted his arm, not agreeing with him stopping as quickly as he started, then swiftly turned your face back into a frown. 

‘Hmm...maybe it’s...the bra?’ He reached out an arm to unclasp the clip of the bra you wore beneath your dress, but you quickly pushed away his hand. ‘No.’ You said with an angry pout on your red painted lips. 

‘Alright. Fair enough. Not the bra.’ He licked his lips again, thinking aloud. ‘And not the hair, the make-up, the food? The food was good, right?’ He teased, feigning innocence as he continued to list anything and everything that obviously wasn’t the problem. 

‘Perhaps it was the setting. Yes, that might be it. I too get a little bit of an iffy feeling when I’m in a museum. All the artworks..the..’ He sat back in the couch, as if readying himself to list every item to be found in a goddamn museum. 

You sighed with exasperation. ‘No..Hen. Ugh. Fine. I just feel insecure. You happy now?’ You folded your arms over your chest and evaded his gaze, his warm eyes studying you after his tiny victory. You had answered, finally. 

‘Talk to me about it.’ 

‘No.’ 

‘Baby..’ He raised an eyebrow and from the corner of your eye you could see him reach an arm out again, this time obviously ready for a tickle assault if need be, his hand sprawled out like a spidery claw. 

Honestly though; this man had some absolutely barbarian techniques to get you out of a foul mood. Tickle fights? Oh yes he was brutal like that. Quickly snapping your head back at him, you glared at him with widened eyes. ‘Don’t you..DARE.’ You hissed through clenched teeth, barely managing to hide the slight amusement that trickled into your voice. 

Amusement? Why yes. Tickle fights with Henry were actually kind of fun, because he was ticklish, too. Two could be barbarians. And he knew that once instigated, he wouldn’t get out of this assault unharmed, “ungiggling”. 

Reaching an arm out with equal impending doom you were now right in the middle of some type of Mexican stand-off, both of you holding out a clawed hand, ready to snap into a tickle assault. 

‘It’s a fine day for a tickle fight.’ He said airily, offering you a bastardian grin. ‘Oh you do not know what you’re getting yourself into Cavill..’ You warned, your voice getting heavier with amusement, slow seconds ticking away.

Here you were, sitting in full gala getup, folded over each others laps, holding out clawed hands at each other. 

Because you were silly dorks, it had to be admitted. 

And this..well this was kind of cute..that needed to be admitted, too.  

You weren’t feeling quite so annoyed and insecure anymore, but you most definitely weren’t going to admit that just yet. Keeping your face pulled into an unamused frown you peered back at him over your outstretched claw, ready to pounce.  

‘Very well, Mr. Bond.’ You purred, dangerously, your cat-eyed eyeliner perfectly fitting in your newly found role.  

‘Mmm..what say you, Pussy? You, me..a tickle fight?’ He purred back, a devilish smirk appearing on his Bond-esque lips. It was fitting. He was every bit the James Bond like this. Smooth shaven jawline, crisp tuxedo, smoothed back chocolate hair. And that smirk. That DARN smirk. 

‘Why..was that a question?’ You raised a teasing eyebrow, as if enticing him to start the fight. But he didn’t take the bait, his eyebrow also raising up high. ‘Why? Mmm..’ He dropped his voice an octave. ‘Well..maybe Pussy wants something else entirely?’ His tone may have been playful, but the message beneath his words was clear; tell me if you want me to stop. Tell me if you want to talk. 

You sat up a bit, lowering your clawed hand slightly. 

‘Tell me..Mr Bond..of all the vixens in your vicinity. Why me?’ Your voice kept its deep, teasing purr, but also here there was a message laced through its syllables. A message that did not go unnoticed, Henry also shifting his weight slightly, moving in closer, lowering his arm. 

‘Why? Because there’s only one Pussy for Bond. And she’s a funny thing, she is.’ He lilted with a heavy Brit accent, leaning in even closer. ‘..and far prettier than the rest of ‘em too...’ He smirked as you rolled your eyes. ‘..and by the Gods..can she kick my butt if need be.’ 

You both chuckled. 

‘Good thing I’m unarmed.’ You said, smiling finally as you fully lowered your arm. ‘As am I, Pussy, as am I.’ He grumbled, being so close now that all he needed to do was press his lips forward. 

But he didn’t. He just smiled. Huffing quietly - what a tease he was - you closed in the last bit of distance between you, lips locking with his. Slightly tangy with alcohol, slightly musky with his breath, slightly gasping as you didn’t want it to end, you just sat there, almost entirely hidden away on his lap. 

Kissing. 

Because you WERE good enough. 

More than good enough. 

And he’d make sure you knew it and felt it every..single..day. 

[chrisodonline]

That G and Sam scene was lovely, and absolutely overdue. Uncle G will never get old, and it’s nice when the show remembers that he exists and so does Widower Sam.

[voidsentprinces]

Went to Pearl’s Haven All Saint’s Wake celebration. It was a great time and man is their place looking REALLY good. The care and dedication, the character banter. Just magnifique!

[absolutelynothingitellyou]

If you don't believe in the power of boycott and divestment you have clearly never met someone who unhingedly tries to deface, defame, and discredit their exes

because if they ever connected they'd hold them accountable for their actions by disclosing mutually horrid experiences to potentially unaware victims.

And in all of this- the perpetrator is almost never sorry they hurt anyone, they may see this as an act of ruining their future experiences and this provides another avenue to gaslight whomever new in their life that whomever from their past is attempting to harm them.

These are not the same fear. Exes in situation A are concerned for the potential harm that could be endured by others. A person in situation B is concerned for how their behavior may inhibit their ability to routinely continue to harm others. The idea that whatever momentary stress you go through that's relieved when you 'get away' with something of that nature is not penance or payment for the atrocities you commit against others, not now, not then, not in future.

Exes in situation A have been harmed already, the variables are the same but the values are what make a drastic difference in the pain; mathematics wise you could say that

X = 0 + N +(-H) x S ÷ T

With X representing the overall score of a person's outcome on an infinite scale of how well or poorly they behave.

With 0 representing the baseline value we will assign to someone with no positive (supported) or negative (harmed) experiences.

With N representing the value of the perceived person being assessed in the situation on a scale of 0 - 10.

With H representing negative experiences relating to some form of harm within the relationship or caused by it. Always a negative number or 0.

With S representing positive experiences relating to some form of support within the relationship or caused by it. Always 1 or more.

With T representing time as the notion of time and events can sporadically change any person for any novelty of reasons and their perception of its passing.

So an ex in situation A that's been done dirty, ghosted, and hurt in less than a month may have an equation look like this:

X = 0 + 0 + (-3) × 1 ÷ 1

X = -3 and that ex has definitely been wronged. Now wait three months (3), socially things have spread, some friends support the ex (2), but more support is given publicly for the other side regardless of fault-to-outcome (5). the same ex is defamed, and lied about in order to boost the other sides overall support (-0.5), (+1).

Now the ex in situation A has an equation like

X = -3 + 0 + (-0.5) × 1.5 ÷ 3

X = -3.25 and it becomes clearer how support and time still don't change much if any degree of harm is carried out again.

On the opposite hand the person causing harm may have an equation that starts like this:

Z = 0 + 3 + 0 × 1 ÷ 1

Z = 3 and this person has had a better relationship experience overall as evident by number when you recognize being allowed to live unchallenged in the face of harming others is a positive whether you reap the privilege or not

And then the same scenario explained above turns their equation into:

Z = 3 + 0.5 + 0 × 6 ÷ 3

Z = 3.5

Now when you add in telling two others about their actions, which they view as harm:

Z = 3 + 0.5 + (-2) × 4 ÷ 3

Z = 0.833 and this dramatic drop in overall value of the relationship can sometimes be mistaken as being harmed when in reality the ex has been existing consistently at -3.25 since this relationship occurred.

That's how a good thing can be a bad thing can be a good thing for some, but harmful to many more no doubt.

[ritterum]

what more could one ask for than the love and respect of one's peers

[keeper-of-all-the-random-things]

Part of the Team

For @amonthofwhump March Trope-a-thon Day 6.

Continued from Day 1. Now in the same universe as Day 4, sometime in the future.

---

Allan wakes in a soft, warm light.  For a moment, he thinks he achieved Afterlife, but the wind and rain are audible through the walls of his sanctuary.

At any rate, Allan is blissfully warm.  His rescuers provided him with dry clothes and a pile of blankets.  Candles are lit everywhere.  A fire crackles on the opposite side of the room.

Allan does not want to get up.  As much as he wants to, he can’t stay tucked in this stranger’s bed forever.  He pads barefoot around the room and notices he feels better than he has in a long time, even before the wagon.

Outside the bedroom is a round common room.  Doors are evenly spaced around one side.  Another fire and a row of windows line the other.  It all feels as inviting as the first room.

Allan cautiously peeks through each door – locating the bath, kitchen, another bedroom – trying to find the owner.  He gets to the last door before he hears bickering.  He can’t help listening.

“… can’t keep him here,” a stern voice says.

“We’ve done it before, Lena,” a second voice responds, deep and soft.

“The others hadn’t been pursued by these royal pains –”

“That’s exactly why we have to help.  We know better than anyone what they’re like.  We can’t leave him to them.”

Allan is almost bowled over when the two burst out of their room.  They freeze when they see him.

“Oh,” the man says.  “You’re awake.”

The woman, Lena, sighs.  “Come on.  Let’s talk.”  She beckons them into a cheery, yellow kitchen.

“You have questions,” Lena says.  She’s not asking, so Allan nods.

“Where are we?  Who are you?  Who are the … uh … ‘royal pains’?”

“This is our house in the Soul Barren,” the man says.

“Many a lost soul out here,” Lena clarifies.

“We’re the ART –”

“– the Anti-Royal Team –”

“That’s Lena.  I’m Alby.”

“He’s the brain, and I’m the brawn.”

“We found you on our way home from Eaders.  We’d like to help you fight against the RPA –”

“– Royal Pains in the A –”

“That’s not what it stands for.”

“Fine.  Royal Protection Agency.  I like my way better.”

“What do you think?”

Allan is caught up in their rapid banter and almost misses when Alby addresses him.

“What do I … it’s … I’m confused.”

“You don’t have to process everything now,” Alby says gently.

“You’ll be safe here,” Lena adds,” and we’ll answer any questions you throw our way.”

“We’d like you to be part of our team.  But we won’t pressure you –”

“– or make death threats –”

Alby wearily side-eyes Lena, and they hold an entire conversation in silent glances.

“What you do is up to you,” Alby says at last.

Allan stays quiet for a bit.  He listens to the rain, takes in the house, watches these strangers who took him in.  He isn’t sure of anything right now, but he thinks he’s like to be on their team.