1/28/2024 0 Comments Luca blight cosplay![]() ![]() America squints, tries to make out his face but it's hard to see in this part of the tavern so America half-drags half-ushers England to a smaller table under the overhang, opposite one of the stoves. "They weren't the only ones," England says. "I'm not a shareholder or anything, but-it's nice, you know? They liked it." Oh well, nothing a shower won't fix, except showering here is kind of difficult. Should've set down his tankard before he did that, whoops. "Well yeah." America scratches behind his ear. ![]() And we booked rooms upstairs, so we don't have to worry about getting home." "I think more people are trickling out than in now, but there's still plenty of booze. "I told you I had business elsewhere," he says, "and the celebration hardly seems to have stopped."Īmerica shrugs. "En-Kirkland!" He's sort of aware of the girls slipping off to join the talk at the tables, but mostly he sees England smiling thinly, his traveling cloak sliding over his shoulders. "It requires a different sort of court," England says crisply. Can’t the man pick up a bro distress call? "Only the basketball players," he says, scans the crowd for Will. "If thou'rt a middling sort of man, thy land must be populated by giants," the girl says her friends close in and trap America on all sides, and someone's hand is somewhere America didn't think Englishwomen's hands usually went. "Actually, I'm about middling," America says. ![]() Will mouths something, but the girl closes to America’s elbow asks, "And be all the men so tall in thy village?" over top of him. This will make sense with more beer, or it’ll make the good kind of no sense, anyway. Not that America ever made out with Washington. Plus, they still have more teeth than Washington did. All gap-toothed and browning smiles, if he’s being honest, but heck, they’re English so how much can you expect. He can’t call it gloomy or cold, though, not with the fireplace roaring and the lanterns winking and the smoke thickening the air.Īnd some more girls are approaching, all smiles. Still, England did say he’d be here, and the party’s not showing any sign of stopping soon but there’s still a limit to how long you can go without electricity. Isn’t she like sixty? Okay, that’s not exactly fair, America guesses he’d have a lot of catching up to do if he hadn’t seen one of his people for four hundred years. Someone presses a fresh mug into his hand, and America makes a face into the ale. "I tell him stuff, and he tells me stuff, but there’s-there’s limits. "Yeah." Explaining that without explaining the next four hundred years is a chore, so America settles for the condensed version. "I mean, we have a special relationship and stuff, but." There's almost a honeyed aftertaste to it. ![]() "Nah." America drains the last of this tankard. "Truly, I would think thee better-informed than I in this matter." "I know not I have seen nothing of him since last we parted," he tries to say over the chorus of whatever drinking song they’re striking up now. Guess the hose doesn't make his ass look fat after all. Or-hey, are those guys giving America’s ass the once-over? He grins, toasts them with his tankard. The place smells like fresh sawdust, which is better than sweat or stale beer except for the part where America keeps sneezing, and a steady stream of people flows through the door to buy the Lord Chamberlain’s Men a round or shake Burbage’s or Will’s hand or greet someone else with a hearty backslap. Will sputters but smiles, and signals the barkeep for another round. Sorry." He releases Will, who looks a little redder in the face than the booze alone accounts for, and thumps him on the back. "Ay, and thou hast won for thyself no small share of admirers," Will says, inclines his head towards the gaggle of ladies still winking America’s way. "Holy crap, Will, did you see, they loved it, they loved us-" "We did it!" America whoops, sweeping Will into the biggest hug he can. Notes: This is also known as the "time travel and Shakespeare and zombies" fic. Summary: Sent back in time to deal with a mysterious threat to England's nationhood, England and America contend with witchcraft, the undead, the power of language, and their own clashing personalities.Ĭhapter Five: In which a horde of America's biggest fans are waiting to congratulate him braaaains, and England sounds far too much like Kit for Will's comfort. Title: The Worldsmith Ĭharacters: England, America William Shakespeare, Elizabeth I, Robert Devereaux, and assorted other actors, playmakers, peers, gentry, scoundrels, spies, and thieves. In this chapter, William Shakespeare kills a zombie with a well-timed tankard of beer. ![]()
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