TumblrFeed

Curate, connect, and discover

I Think This Counts As Spoilers - Blog Posts

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bodies (TV 2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Alfred Hillinghead/Henry Ashe Characters: Alfred Hillinghead, Henry Ashe Additional Tags: Missing Scene, Sexual Content, Emotionally repressive victorian men, Victorian era, not sure how to tag it Summary:

“Please.” Alfred sounds absolutely wrecked as he says it and Henry exhales, absolutely taken by it, unable to deny him anything like this, feels himself yielding to the request immediately, without second thought.

A few moments/missing scenes between Alfred and Henry


Tags

It's you and me (and they told me this is how it could be)

Episode 3, Alfred gets drugged and shows up on Henry's door

Henry's POV

archiveofourown.org
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Tags

Whiteman’s  lounging with a whisky, looking comfortably casual in a pair of chinos and a t-shirt—blazer combination. He might be taken for any young, up-and-coming London professional out for a drink to celebrate the long weekend. Hillinghead, by contrast, looks like he should be at a wedding- the man’s in a three piece suit and the most complexly knotted tie she’s ever seen.  Still, Shahara’s hardly going to judge him for feeling more comfortable completely covered up and the man is (she still can’t really wrap her head around this) a Victorian. He’s got a pint of beer in front of him, though it doesn’t look like he’s touched it. 

She takes the first of the two empty seats at their table, her coke sloshing over the side of the glass as she sits, and remarks: “You two found your way around alright then?”

Whiteman sniffs sharply and half shrugs. “Fine. Nice to see the place not bombed to bits and rationing over.”

“It’s so- loud,” Hillinghead murmurs. “And crowded, and it smells-”

“It’s always smelled,” Whiteman interjects. “What, was it all roses in your time? I don’t believe that.”

“No,” Hillinghead stresses. “But it is- more.” he rubs the bridge of his nose.  “Have you heard from-” He freezes, staring at something just over Whiteman’s shoulder. Shahara can read a shift in to flight-or-fight posture easily and from the way he’s suddenly more alert, Whiteman’s clocked that something’s got Hilinghead spooked as well.

“Problem?” he asks quietly, in his clipped, cockney accent; a half-strangled vowel slips from Hillinghead’s throat and Shahara turns to see what he’s looking at. There’s two men enjoying what’s clearly a date, holding hands and locking lips. Shahara sighs internally, bracing herself for a slew of Victorian attitudes- “Yeah,” she says, a little sarcastically- Hillinghead’s knuckles have gone white, he’s clenching his fist so hard. The gold of his wedding band stands stark against it. “That’s allowed, nowadays- we don’t care.” 

“Hm?” Whiteman glances around- there’s a moment where Shahara thinks she’s gonna have to deal with 1940s attitudes as well, but Whiteman turns back, uninterested. “Fair enough.” he starts patting himself down, like he’s looking for something in his pockets. 

“They can-” Hillinghead murmurs. “I could…” He swipes for the beer and downs a quarter of the pint in one. Now Whiteman looks interested, he pauses his search, leans right forward and says, smirking, “Detective Inspector Hillinghead. Do you have a fancy man?”

Hillinghead sputters and brings down the glass. “Are you twelve?” he demands, something of the outraged parent seeping into his tone as– he’s blushing, Shahara realises. He’s actually blushing. 

“Are you-?” She asks, leaning forward, and she knows it’s rude and none of her business, but still. “Are you gay?” The wedding ring. “Bi?”she suggests, as a follow up, and then: “Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I- what? I-” he looks back at the couple, then grabs his beer again. “I have- I have a- I have Henry,” he downs more of the beer. “It-it would be nice, to- to not…” he trails off, his eyes drifting away from both of them.

“See, I’ve always been a bachelor- a bachelor bachelor, not a confirmed bachelor, myself, but I - fuck, I left my cigars and my lighter in the other jacket-”

“Language,” Hilinghead reprimands at the same time as Shahara says: “You can’t smoke in here anyway.”

Whiteman drops his elbow to the table and points at her. “You what?”

“No smoking in public places, it’s banned.”

Whiteman flops back in his seat and grabs for his whisky. “The future is bollocks.” he drains the glass and slams it down. “Good whisky though. So. While we wait for Maplewood to join us….Hillinghead can kiss blokes, and I can’t smoke in a pub. What else should we know about this 2023, then…?”


Tags

Poll time!

Everyone’s feedback has been amazing (tysm for that!). 40 people voted on my last poll for the ratings of my fics- and I will absolutely take into account the results!

Since I think there’s enough people now to do this, I have a new poll:

I’ll try to finish whichever wins ASAP, and work promptly on the other options as well.


Tags

all my mutuals need to watch Bodies on Netflix so I can talk about how my new queer repressed Victorian blorbo needs a fleecy blanket and an introduction to Gay Bookshops with neat little Gay Cafes attached (my newest 21st century sapphic woman blorbo can show him around)


Tags
Loading...
End of content
No more pages to load
Explore Tumblr Blog
Search Through Tumblr Tags