#but no one has giffed timmy in the king like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

capsized-heart · 5 years

Text

l’ incendie

Pairing: Hal x Reader

Summary: You grew up as witness to the atrocities committed under the British crown. Lord Grey is your father and newly pledged councilman of the royal court. Now, England has a new boy king, one who is set on keeping peace in Europe. You are determined to see England burn, even if it means corrupting the lionhearted boy of Eastcheap.

Word count: 10k+

Warnings: explicit smut, strong violence, sacrilegious imagery a blowjob in a chapel lmao

A/N: l’ incendie ; French translation for fire

..so..I watched The King back in November and have had this idea in my brain for the past 2 months now?? It literally consumed me. All throughout my last few weeks of classes and final papers, this is honestly all I could think about, like I’ve been bumping the soundtrack and rewatching the film to plan this, I looked at Lord Grey’s true lineage (he aint Scottish btw I made that up..but he really was related to King Edward lol).......I’ve just had to get this out of me for so. long. and I’m so happy that I finally have! It feels like this huge weight is gone, but I’ve enjoyed this creative process so much, like it’s so exciting when you hyper-fixate find a new piece of media that you enjoy so much that you dive completely and utterly into everything about it that you can get your hands on, and this is my piece for this!

And my boy Timmy?? Had no fucking clue who this guy was before I saw the film, now I’m writing fics about him a;sdkfjskj but you’re here reading this so. we’re both guilty.

I love story arcs like this where you see a character’s slow descent into corruption and having it revealed that someone was talking in their ear the whole time....i eat that shit right up. Reader’s character is heavily inspired by Lady Macbeth. Using wiles, using sex, etc. Ooh baby. I had fun with this.

gif credit to @michonnegrimes

Scotland was once your true home. Moors, lochs, rugged mountains, biting cold, all. You remember the endless mist and gloom, the wet winters of your childhood that made the creaking wood of your cottage whistle and moan. Summers were warm and mild and the highlands bursting with rich green and sunlight, running through fragrant fields of heathers, bluebells, myrtle with your skirts damp with dew, shrieking and choking on laughter as your older brother, Callum, chased you all throughout your little village of Kirkcaldy. Laughing himself, grabbing at you and wrestling you down into the mud, blossoms, and river water.

“Yield! Yield to the English crown or perish, wretched witch!” Callum would boom in mock play, tickling your sides until you’re gasping for air and tears stung your eyes.

“Aye! I yield!”

“What? You mad girl! Take it back! We are Scots!”

And then Callum would descend on you with all the wrath of England and you’d be howling with giggles and screams.

Returning home at nightfall smelling of wind and rain with vibrant wildflowers tangled in your hair and dirt streaking the skin of your cheeks, still plump with baby fat. Scarce food, but stomach full of adventure and blissful naivete. You were happy.

Your father would scold you promptly before his voice would soften a touch, smoothing back your hair from your face. Round, curious eyes and missing teeth. A feral, untamed child.

Daughter of Lord Thomas Grey. His precious girl. So much of your mother in you, the same fight, the same spark and love for life. Until you had ripped her body from the inside out and she had lost too much blood, the wet nurses unable to stop the bleeding and she had given her last breath cradling you lovingly against her naked chest.

You had killed your own mother.

In your early years, Callum and your father gave you nothing but warmth and protection, the sole surviving daughter of Grey lineage. But a child can only be sheltered for so long. Your world is a man’s world. Your country is no stranger to bloodshed.

The Anglo-Scottish Wars have endured for as long as you can remember, rebel leaders beaten down by English captains and more Christian blood staining the lush lowlands with every day. Robert the Bruce. Percy Hotspur. Blood all the same.

You are bleak, wild, uncivilized in the eyes of the English.

It’s all your people have ever known. Weary, resilient Scotland.

You have no memory of your mother, your earliest memory being the image of William Wallace’s torso strung up in the village square and the ensuing riots that had truly put the fear of God in you, mounted soldiers and civilians clashing in a fury of slick, gory steel, longswords and blacksmith daggers, a fear so raw and primal it struck you frozen and you’d soiled yourself in the midst of chaos. Callum had grabbed you and raced the four miles home as you bellowed atop his back with great, ugly heaves, snot and tears dribbling down your chin.

You didn’t need to understand the politics of rebellion or Wallace’s stake in it all to understand a massacre.

You have no memory of your mother, only murder in the name of the English king.

But you’ve learned to nurture that little glowing kernel of survival, of the fighting spirit and grit inside you that had evidently cost your mother her life. You’ve kindled it, watched it ignite with every passing year of war, your body flourishing into the figure of a young woman with embers in her soul. A stable simmering of flushed coals beneath your skin, glistening in the pools of your irises, ready to flare up and burn all you touch should you choose to.

You feel it now as a jostling carriage takes you to Northumberland, England. You sit quietly, watching the hills of Scotland tremble by, eyes hungrily drinking up as much of its strong landscape as you can.

Your father and brother have already gone ahead to England to make arrangements for Callum’s recent engagement to Isabel, Countess of Essex and only daughter of the Earl of Cambridge. You are reuniting after a lonely week, perhaps your last, to ever see your homeland.

Callum’s betrothal didn’t come as much of a surprise, rather, you’ve been counting down the days until your village lifestyle was doomed for inevitable change; for years, your father has been preparing the two of you for noble life outside of Scotland. Son and daughter subjected to the arts of chivalry, proper etiquette, gentility. The best that your little village could accommodate.

Your father and his maternal ancestry have interestingly long influenced the English courts, as his title of Lord would suggest. Through his grandmother’s side, you are distant descendants of Margaret, Duchess of Norfolk.

King Edward himself. Now cold and buried in London’s Westminster Abbey.

The coals jump, flames twisting at the idea of relatives long dead sitting idly on the opportunity and resources for a coup d'etat, instead choosing to line their own pockets and watch your country crumble from the comfort of their English estates.

The carnage and murder of monarchy feel that much more personal to you.

With your brother’s new marriage, Callum will acquire lordship and be gifted property in Essex. Your father will be secured a seat in the king’s council. You will be given rooms and hospitality in the castle as a noblewoman available for marriage. As Lady Grey.

A lick of fire coils up your throat.

God save the king.

The switch cracks so hard against the skin of your knuckles that your lip draws blood when you bite back a scream. Pain diffuses up your arm in fractured, ringing jolts and your eyes flood with hot tears. You hazard a look at where an angry welt has already started to flush, red and pulsing on the back of your hand.

“Again.” Says Miss Hunt.

Your gaze falls to the open manuscript in front of you, to the passage that you’ve rehearsed aloud for the past two hours. Your tongue works nervously in your mouth, swallowing. Sweat glistens your brow. You think you may even be trembling.

You draw in a quick breath and begin again:

“Time and tide wait for no man.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

People can die of mere imagination.

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche-”

Another crack and this time you can’t restrain the cry that leaves you. You blink back the heat blurring your vision, set your jaw when Miss Hunt clasps her hands coldly behind her back and looks down at you over her hooked nose.

“Your voiced consonants are absolutely horrid, girl. Don’t close up your mouth. If you are to perfect the King’s English, you are to completely forget that savage dialect before I cut out your tongue. Am I understood?”

Miss Hunt gives you a smart swat to your cheek.

You nod quickly.

Another stinging swat.

“Am I understood?”

“Yes, Miss Hunt.”

Satisfied, she turns on her heel, granting you a few precious moments of quiet, of rest. Afternoon light filters into the chamber in dusty, silvered shafts, hueing the book’s pages in a drab of diluted grey. The inked words of Chaucer bleed back up at you as you settle your breathing.

This English sits like gravel in your mouth, low and rough and choking up your throat. Sharply iambic, as if everyone is talking down to the other.

England’s English sounds slow and stupid.

You wonder if Callum had this much trouble mastering the accent. You wonder if Callum, as a Lord, has ever been slashed with a switch.

Since your arrival to England and for the better part of a year, Miss Hunt has dissected every syllable of your speech through bodily punishment and repetition, ripped out any trace of Gaelic, any remaining trace of Scotland on your tongue and sutured it back together with mouthfuls of Chaucer and pompous, exaggerated vowels.

But pain, degradation, and humiliation are wonderful motivators. And to your horror, it has worked.

Your father recently introduced you to a few councilmen out of courtesy and as the sister of the soon to be Lord Grey of Essex. You politely discussed politics, entertained banter and jests of marriage proposals. None questioned your status as an English noblewoman.

Masquerading with voice and poise.

But that hasn’t stopped your secret, unseen resistance.

Miss Hunt may have taken your language and cadence, but her practices have only shown you the true powers of speech, knowledge, shown you just how intimidated and afraid all of England is of the bold north, of any European empire threatening its legitimacy.

A cowering dog with raised hackles and snapping teeth, but only so out of mad fear.

The harder Miss Hunt pushes, the deeper you dig into your own studies. By day, you are her sole pupil. By night, by candlelight, you are the pupil of Cicero, studying rhetoric and the power of spoken influence. You’ve also begun to study French as a means to bolster your wiles and mental arsenal.

You are already a so-called savage by blood. Learning the language of England’s arch rival will do nothing to hurt your reputation.

You feel a bead of sweat slide down the base of your spine as the switch swishes impatiently in Miss Hunt’s clutches. Oral recitation and the simultaneous reduction of your accent demands every ounce of your concentration. You know already that if you are hit again, the skin will break and you’ll only be reprimanded harder. Miss Hunt is sadistic and cold with her beady eyes and that ugly high starched collar.

“Again.” Her voice clips evenly.

So, you inhale a strong, supportive breath and begin again, pushing down the smolder in your chest.

The day of the wedding is cloudless and full of sunshine, a rarity for England. Callum has been bustling about the chapel’s back rooms in nervous energy all morning, fixing his hair and dress shirt over and over. You send your father to go and calm him down as you tend to Isabel, shooing him away quickly so your father’s mirrored jitters won’t affect her before the start of the ceremony. She gives you a small smile of thanks.

Isabel looks beautiful sitting in front of the mirror as her maids finish arranging her hair. Back straight as a board, plump lips and cheeks the color of a rosy, coral pink. You help to pull the veil over her face and the thin fabric does nothing to mute her radiance.

You see the flickering range of emotions in her eyes as she sees her own reflection. The life that all women are fated to live. Her last moments of true freedom, uncertainty for the future, and that small, significant trickle of vanity at having a perfect day of her own.

You see it all. After all, you are a woman.

She relaxes a bit when you lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. Her gaze finds yours in the mirror.

“You and I will soon be sisters,” she laughs softly. You give her a pleasant smile.

“I would want nothing more.”

Her throat works as she swallows tears, gives you another radiant laugh. “Someday, you will be sitting here, too.”

The truth of her words causes your smile to weaken, but you quickly hide it by busying yourself with her skirts and lace. Your world is a man’s world, even outside of war-torn Scotland. One man’s world, to be exact.

King Henry IV.

“And I expect you, my dear Isabel, to be at my side when that day comes.” You say to her. She nods kindly.

Your brother and Isabel are married a few hours later beneath the rainbowed, iridescent wash of stained glass and chiming church bells. And as the newly wed couple beam at you and their close company of friends and family, as you see Callum hold his wife proudly on his arm, you think that the bride and groom may truly love each other despite their arranged marriage. The possibility of such a happiness makes you grin wide and the familiar coals to simmer down ever so slightly.

The reception then moves to the chapel’s outdoor gardens. Ornately trimmed hedges, chirping birdsong, bubbling marble fountains, and the sweet fragrance of daisies and roses perfume the budding spring air.

The sun is warm on your skin, the air brisk and comfortable. You keep your fur lined mantle draped around your shoulders, your embroidered sleeves catching hints of daylight, the jeweled metalwork glittering about your waist. And with your hair twisted with ribbon and pinned back with a light linen caul, even Isabel herself murmurs that you look as refreshing and incandescent as the flowers surrounding you. You smile back teasingly, whisper that no one could possibly compare to the blushing bride.

As sister of the groom, you mingle politely, accepting congratulations and kind regards.

You see familiar faces, lords and fellow council members alike, and some of those not yet well acquainted. You meet Cambridge, Isabel’s father and a bird of a man. Gangly limbs and a flittering that accompanies his quick movements, but cordial and gentle. He tells you the union of your families will be prosperous, benign. You agree.

Then, Cambridge is pulled aside by a young man. Cambridge seems to recognize him instantly and clasps him into an embrace, chuckling heartily.

“Hal! You made it!” he exclaims. The two talk together briefly before the young man turns to you.

He’s tall and lean, broad chested with sloping shoulders. The angular planes of his face are undeniably handsome, a strong nose, full dark lashes and brows that frame his bold complexion. Black, unkempt curls and soft, hooded green eyes that hold an undertone of vigor, like his very gaze has commanded attention his entire life. They flicker over you quickly, as if you’d imagined it yourself, a trick of the light.

You don’t miss the way they linger at the exposed dip of your neckline, however.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” He then asks of Cambridge, his voice a soft murmur and his eyes never leave you.

Cambridge looks quickly between the two of you, as if acknowledging your presence again for the first time since this young man’s interruption. He burns bright red, stammering, then gestures to the stranger beside him.

“Of course. My lady, may I present my cousin, Henry. Prince of Wales.”

The suddenness and sheer absurdity of it all almost makes you burst out in laughter.

Cousin? King Henry IV’s eldest son is the cousin of your father-in-law?

With this marriage, you realize your family is now tied to the most powerful family in all of Britain. Yet, no one in the wedding party seems to have even acknowledged the presence of the boy prince dressed simply in dark cloak and tunic.

And then you remember. Prince Hal is a drunk, a dangerous playboy from Eastcheap. His claim to the throne is as illegitimate as the probable dozens of children from his bedded girls.

And asking for a formal introduction from his cousin? It’s utterly laughable, pathetic even.

Hal’s gaze is unwanted, skin prickling from where his eyes trace the curve of your chest in a way that makes you feel vile.

So, you wet your lips, pretend to wordlessly accept his flirtations and give him a slow flutter of your lashes. The reaction he so craves from you as his chin tilts back in delight, hungry to see more.

“Your reputation precedes you, my lord.” Your words drip with venom. Flowery girl with a serpent’s sharp tongue.

The barb makes Hal’s features tick in surprise, shock before settling back into a cool demeanor.

“Then you’ve heard of me.”

Your mask of amour stays firmly in place.

“It is hard to be deaf against such defamatory gossip.”

Hal hums softly with a hint of a smile, breaking his gaze to look out over the reception, ego obviously bruised. Cambridge goes pale as a sheet.

Isabel suddenly swoops in with the apology of wanting to introduce her father to a newly arrived guest and excuses him, hauling him away by the arm. Cambridge looks relieved to go.

And then it’s just the two of you beneath the halo of rose-tinted light.

“Beautiful ceremony.” He says simply. Hal is incredibly soft spoken for a prince and you find yourself unconsciously leaning in to hear him speak. Part of the intimate charm that makes him so alluring to women, you think. A whispered promise only for you.

“I thank you, sire.”

He takes a step forward. It startles you, enough for him to crowd you against the garden trellis wall. Ivy and lavender press into your back, dancing in the same breeze that peppers goosebumps down your spine. You shiver softly. Hal steps closer.

“I pray this is not the last of today’s festivities?” His words ghost over your throat, tickling the shell of your ear.

“No, sire. There will be a dinner tonight,” you reply just as quietly. You understand the game perfectly because it is the same one you have been playing your whole life. You indulge him, fire sparkling behind your fluttering eyelashes. “Surely your cousin will be expecting your attendance.”

Hal leans over you, hair tickling your face, green eyes glimmering. Up close, you see that freckles and beauty marks dot his skin. “I’m sure he will.”

You think you see him incline his head as though to kiss you. For a moment, you’re frozen, entranced.

You turn your cheek and his lips brush your temple. He hesitates with a low chuckle, keeping his close proximity.

“Then, I will see you tonight, my lord.” You whisper. Your fingers graze his arms as you sidle out of his reach. You can feel his eyes on you as you go and rejoin the other guests.

You leave him burning.

The tavern teems with merriment and the sound of fiddle, fife, and drum. You feast on broiled meats, roasted potatoes, greens, sweet breads and cakes until your stomach is full to bursting.

The glow of candlelight is lush and sensual, throwing shadows over the faces that only hours before you had shared with in prayer and communion in the church of God. Now, every attendant indulges in debauchery.

You’re drunk, blood pounding with mulled wine and spiced ale and cider. Pleasantly warm and head swimming, watching Callum and Isabel and friends and family dance about the room as if possessed, twirling in swirls of colored fabric that make you laugh and clap along in breathless euphoria.

You catch a glance of a figure standing in the doorway. You see the motion of a glass moving to lips, throat working to swallow drink. When the glass falls, you lock eyes with Hal.

You beckon him forth with a crooked finger. He grins wickedly and sets down his cup.

Despite the obvious wine in him, his steps towards you are sure and true and his hands feel good against you when they caress your waist, pull you against him.

You play coy and twist out of his arms. He groans.

He follows you like a dog until you’re in the midst of spinning bodies and then you turn to him. Giving him the permission to finally touch you.

His eyes ignite. He splays a hand on the middle of your back, perfect pressure, authoritative, the other gripping you tight and then you’re both cackling with drunken mischief as he guides the two of you across the creaking wooden floor.

You let him support you, lean against his chest, enjoying the sensation of being held so close. The thrill of feeling wanted.

Even if it is all a charade.

The strings and beat of thumping drums careen to a crescendo that has the entire tavern whooping and hollering in delight. You break apart from Hal to join in as the music flows through your limbs, absolutely enchanted, throwing back your head like that feral child from girlhood.

Hal looks just as wild, the rumored wayward prince. Long, dark locks falling in his eyes, tunic unbuttoned and disheveled. Light and shadow dancing across his face in a manner that makes him look devilish.

He pushes a glittering goblet into your hands, eases his strong fingers around your own to help bring it to your lips. You see the unmistakable red slosh of wine and wordlessly drink. He watches you tip back the goblet, watches rubied jewels of crimson spill down the sides of your mouth and down the skin of your throat.

“That’s it. That’s a good girl.” He cooes.

The flames feel desperately hot, flushing your skin and cheeks, burning bright behind your lips. Or perhaps it's the alcohol? Or the prince’s wandering touch that now seems to be cupping your breast, tongue lapping at the trails of wine…

The heat is suddenly too much and you push away to a secluded corner filled with empty tables to catch your breath. Hal slumps beside you. His head lolls, dipping to press another whisper of a kiss to your jaw and his weight feels comfortable against your side.

You don’t know what comes over you. Perhaps you truly are possessed.

You turn into him and then your hand is reaching between his thighs.

Hal exhales sharply in your ear. You harden your touch, feel him widen his stance to accommodate you. He braces an arm behind the small of your back, supporting himself on the space of the wooden bench as your fingers slip below the waistband of his trousers.

He gives a strangled sigh when you grip him tight and begin to coil your hand. His head lolls once more, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, panting, bursts of hot breath fanning over your throat. You feel your own breath quicken, feel yourself getting excited.

You mesh your other hand into his curls and pull him closer, press your body flush against his. Hal moans, keening, his arm now around your waist. You shush him quietly, tightening the hold in his hair.

To any patron, you look as though you’re only consoling a drunken boy, simply talking in the muted light. The shadows hide you both but the flames shine in your eyes.

“Enjoying the festivities, my lord?” You sigh into his cheek.

“Please don’t stop..” Hal whimpers.

You chuckle through a half-lidded gaze and work him harder. It’s delicious, erotic.

You hold all power, all of England in your delicate grip.

You watch his mouth fall open, dark brows furrowing, feel him tense against you before the eldest son to the crown spills himself onto your fevered palm with a sharp gasp, chest heaving.

“Good boy..” you murmur with a cheshire smile, running your fingers soothingly down the line of his jaw. Hal shudders with aftershocks, eyes closed, forehead glistening with sweat.

Before he can attempt to try and reciprocate the favor, you wipe your hand on his cloak and stand to fetch another drink.

You avoid Hal afterwards and don’t see him again for the remainder of the night. You think he must have gone home with another girl to satisfy himself and it makes you smile knowing you are responsible for laying that trap, for letting him taste pleasure, driving his desperation and taking it all away just as easily.

Your brother and Isabel spend their honeymoon in London before returning to her home in Essex. They write to you, informing of their safe arrival at the new estate and that you will have to come visit in the very near future. It warms your heart. You already miss them terribly.

Soon after, your father is awarded the scarlet, fur-trimmed peerage robes of the House of Lords and with your new rank, you experience the privilege of wealth for the first time.

Rich foods, dresses and flowing silk skirts, cosmetics, more books and manuscripts than you can imagine. You glow with health, beauty, pride, and sharpened wit.

But you have not forgotten your burning flame. Aided by money and status, your little light only grows stronger.

King Henry IV dies of sickness on a warm March morning. It had only been a matter of time, the stubborn man had been calling your father and the other lords to his bedside for the past several months to continue to discuss the politics of his own wars. In his dying breath, Henry IV saw that his empire had fallen to civil strife.

Court and kingdom are called to witness the coronation procession and as you stand with the lords and ladies of the crown inside Westminster Abbey, inside the church containing the tomb of your distant descendant King Edward and the generations of his forefathers, the same Gothic abbey where British monarchs have turned men into rulers and tyrants, you watch the archbishop anoint Prince Henry of Wales with holy oil.

His curls have been trimmed clean, his bare skin and body presented to be blessed with the sign of the cross. All old ritual, old prayer and Latin incantations that have been performed for over a thousand years.

So what is a new boy to wear the crown?

Beneath the arched stone cloisters, baptized in the sunlit streams of stained glass, you watch that same ceremony unfold again with burning heart. And harmonized by the tolling of bells, Hal is dressed in royal robes, regalia, scepter and all, shedding the title of prince as you all pledge homage to your new King of England.

“All hail King Henry.” The archbishop calls out to clergy, God, and country.

“King Henry!”

Neither you nor Hal feel the heat of embarrassment when the court is ushered into the dining chamber and you meet again in candle and firelight. The feast is an intimate setting, shared by the company of Hal’s new council, clergymen, and close family. Your father is seated alongside Cambridge, Chief Justice William Gascoigne, and the archbishop; even his sister, Queen Phillipa of Denmark, is in attendance.

Hal’s appearance and demeanor is surprising to you.

He looks striking, handsome as ever in his new robes and you can sense that familiar aire of charisma and confidence you remember from the wedding as Lord Chamberlain presents gifts from the monarchs of the world. A jeweled vase from King Wenceslas of Bohemia, a trinket of a mechanical bird from the Doge of Venice. Hal is jovial, good humored and merry.

The presence of his cousin and sister seems to comfort him greatly. And rightfully so, considering he now sits on the throne of his dead father. Dead as well is the alter ego of the delinquent prince.

Like a spoilt child opening wrapped packages at Christmas. The privilege of royal blood.

When the final trunk is presented, a gift from the Dauphin, you quite nearly let out a low snicker.

A ball for the boy king.

You see Hal hesitate before picking it up and the silence throughout the chamber is long, uncomfortable. The entire court seems to be holding its breath. Yet, you know there is an aspect of truth to the Dauphin’s gesture.

A boy indeed. You recall Hal’s touch and him gasping into your neck, his muffled begging, how quickly he had finished in your hand…

Then, the cool magnetism returns to his features. He locks eyes with you and you wonder if he is thinking of the same moment. You are both proud challengers, wielders of personal charm.

You wonder how long it will take to break him completely.

There’s a glimmer in his gaze you think to be from the blazing hearth as he tosses the ball once against the chamber’s stone wall, then catches it deftly with youthful poise.

After the coronation dinner, the court is dismissed and you find yourself to be one of the last remaining patrons as guests trickle out into the adjacent hallways and disperse through the rest of the castle. You deliberately hang back, watching your father, Cambridge, Phillipa, and William slip through the doors, slowing your step so that Hal can catch sight of you.

“Lady Grey,” you hear. His voice is galant, hushed with that same temptation of seductive promise. With your back still facing him, you can’t help but smirk.

You feign surprise and turn.

“Yes, my lord?”

Hal beckons to where he stands by the fireside. You gather your skirts and join him in the welcoming nimbus of light and warmth. When you bend to curtesy, his fingers find your chin, tilting your eyes to his own and forcing you to rise to your feet.

“None of that is necessary, my dear,” he whispers. He keeps your face cradled between thumb and forefinger, a delicate pressure, one that makes you feel precious as he holds you close. “Tell me, did you enjoy tonight?”

“Immensely.” You smile. Indeed, you have. The Dauphin might as well have spoken on your own behalf.

Hal hums, pleased. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth, then eases in between the petals of your pink lips. You purse them ever so slightly and watch his self-control start to simmer. The candles burn low around the two of you, the only source of light emanating from the hearth itself. You are reminded of how the shadows flickered on the planes of his face the night of the wedding. Now, you see the same shadows again, but as king.

“I want you to have something.” He says finally.

He looks reluctant to break his touch from you, but you see his hand disappear within the folds of his robes. He then produces a glittering pendant with a golden chain, a necklace that looks ablaze.

Amber, you realize.

The surprise that crosses your features is genuine. Baltic amber set into teardrop sterling silver and gold, a gift from Rupert of the Palatinate and the kingdom of Germany. An extraordinary piece.

Hal’s hand finds your waist and you turn to offer him your bare neck, pulse pounding. You have no say, no power to even deny this token of affection.

His caresses against your skin as he fastens the chain are soft and featherlike and you can feel his breath on the top of your spine. The pendant is heavy, rich with precious stone and gilded metal, settling between the valley of your breasts. It feels cold, but shines like an inferno.

He lingers, tracing your shoulders when his mouth presses to your ear.

“Turn. Let me look at you properly.”

When you do, the weight of Germany itself, of foreign and fallen kingdoms and countries, conquered and pillaged and burned, simultaneously settles between the tender skin of your sternum.

Hal’s eyes cloud with dark delight when he sees the flaming amber. He takes your chin back in hand, angling your face every which way, studying how the firelight glints off the pendant with a sensual curiosity.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs.

Your body begins to react on its own accord, chest rising and falling with faster breaths, your cheeks blooming.

“I thank you, my lord.”

Still cradling your jaw, he brings himself closer with only a whisper between the two of you. His crimson robes seem to swallow you completely, like the gaping maw of Britain’s lion, a mantle of blood. He speaks into the gap between your mouths, yet you feel every word upon your lips.

“With this gift, I expect to see you more around my court, Lady Grey. Am I understood?”

The tension he commands is unbearable. He watches you carefully, dark eyelashes fluttering. Trapped like a pinned butterfly. Then, you understand he’s waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes, my lord.”

He releases you.

The pendant suddenly feels more like a collar.

You’ve underestimated Hal. He is just as much the player as you.

You keep your promise. You see Hal daily in passing, often dressed in full regal attire as he comes from the council chambers, your father, William, and the rest of his train tailing close behind. The twinkle in his eye when he sees you is discreet, reserved only for you. The amber pendant remains fastened around your neck at all hours of the day, even while you sleep and bathe, like fire and ice between your breasts. A piece of Hal always with you.

The two of you are a queer, twisted pair of sweethearts. You’ve yet to be fully intimate since that wedding night, but the pressure that ripples with every fleeting glance, every grazing touch of lips and skin is enough to prove your attraction for each other. Or rather, the attraction to the game.

You keep Hal on his toes, never fully give in even when he invites you out for evening strolls in the palace gardens and the safety of darkness envelops you both. It is your nightly ritual to walk the grounds together amongst hushed breezes and chirping crickets, you as a means to unwind before bed, and a way for Hal to clear his mind of the day’s tolling demands.

And tolling they are. Despite his bravado, he is easily irritable, tense. You listen when he speaks to you plainly about his frustrations for the court and archbishop, how they all expect from him the same swift retaliation of his father.

You find Hal’s consciousness of this want to break tyranny quite curious. Sons are typical to idolize their fathers and see past faults. It is why you know how cruel kingship has endured in Britain for generations; learned behaviors become expected and change more difficult. You’ve even seen that same behavior in your own brother.

And Hal’s trust in disclosing even this to you is telling. The thread to unravel the boy king.

Tonight, you dare to pull at it, heighten your girlish wiles and offer him a lingering kiss and soft words. You tell him that Christendom is damned and tease that it’s his own fault his council is made up entirely of old, graying men, your father included, when he could have anyone else.

Hal’s spirits seem to lift a little with a ghost of a smile, understanding you perfectly as his arm snakes around your waist. He pulls you into a secluded labyrinth and settles into the stone seat of a fountain, pulls you atop his lap. The kiss he returns is fierce.

Without the burn of alcohol to subdue your senses, every touch is intensified tenfold. Hal feels it too, his breath coming ragged as he breaks the kiss to mouth down the skin of your neck, the dip of your collarbone, your chest. His hands wander beneath your skirts.

“It is only polite that I return the favor..” You hear him say.

Your mind is reeling. You knew this moment would eventually come, yet you feel ill-prepared when his fingers brush your core, his other hand gripping the back of your neck. You gasp, finding his lips in another tangled kiss, straddle him completely.

It’s strange, exhilarating to be on the receiving end of your little game.

If you are to truly break Hal, you are to first make him believe that he holds any sort of power over you, to reverse that dynamic you had set the night of your brother’s wedding.

You are to let him touch you.

And like the flaming sword of Raphael, Hal’s pendant, it is time to finally draw upon your fire.

You hate how good Hal is at this. He knows just where to caress inside you, the right amount of pressure, the weak spots at your throat and just below your ear. Your competitiveness takes over and you push him back against the fountain, start to circle your hips, grind yourself down on his hand and grip at the rich fabric of his tunic to better anchor yourself.

His eyes pool with lust with every sigh from your lips, watching you closely. He rolls his thumb, picks up the tempo of his fingers, relishing the sight of you slowly falling apart on top of him.

But it isn’t enough. You lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. He responds in tandem, gathering you close as you rock against him, the friction of his thighs sending you closer and closer to that threshold of pleasure.

“Please..I need t-to…” you whisper into his neck, into his mouth.

Words of magic. Hal’s expression flares with masculine pride, the delight of pleasing a woman.

The last of the day’s golden hour spills over you both in glowing, peached splendor and with the sound of the fountain’s rushing water as your only witness, you muffle your final moan with a desperate kiss, bliss pulsing behind your eyelids. Hal keeps his fingers where they are, coaxing the last waves of your orgasm out of you, cradling your chin with his other hand as his lips part yours, slipping tongue as you come floating back down to earth.

You’re dazed, flushed, lazily kissing when he removes his fingers. Slick when you suck them into your mouth and taste yourself. The velvet of your tongue makes him shiver.

“Now, what ever are we going to do about your council, my lord?” You murmur once you catch your breath. You gently kiss his fingertips.

Hal only smirks and pulls you to him.

Your plan begins to take motion. With each passing month, you worm your way deeper into Hal’s heart with honeyed words and empty promises. He confides in you more and more as he grows wary of his councilmen, trusting only the pretty face he sees in the privacy of his bedchamber each night. Graced against silk pillows.

You sense the crushing pressure upon him, his own doubts and fears. You slowly leech away his magnetism, his charisma, and take it for yourself. His eyes dim, harden with resolve. Gone is the assurance for peace. Hal instead grows cold, timid, questioning his every move.

You only burn brighter.

There is talk that a French assassin has breached the castle.

You hear the conversation for yourself when your father and William are called down to the dungeons, hear Hal speaking directly to this assassin as you linger at the top of the stone staircase.

“Qui êtes vous?”

“J'ai été envoyé par le roi de France pour vous assassiner.”

Hal’s voice is cool, calm as he pries for details. The assassin’s responses are noticeably vague. You infer it to be out of his own self interest.

Then, nothing. Days go by with no direct action from Hal.

You grind your teeth. War with France would be the perfect fruition of your schemes, the final act in a tragedy deemed to be an epic of British monarchy. War with France would show Europe and the rest of the world the extortion and murder of the English crown; not that these neighboring countries needed such a reminder. But England and her king have been blind for too long.

Previous attempts at quelling war had caused Percy Hotspur to rebel, Prince Thomas of Lancaster to push on and die alone on foreign soil.

Is Hal not trying to prove himself in this same way? Proving he is not like his father? Just as Thomas had wished for his peers to see him as a commander and better equipped to bear the crown despite being the youngest son, is Hal not guilty of this same charge of public approval?

And having the privilege to sit idly atop a throne amidst all this makes your blood boil. Idleness is instability, you’ve learned this years ago.

You will be the one to push Hal to war.

You are sewing one afternoon in an empty chamber when the strained voices of your father, Cambridge, and William reach your ears. Hushed and argumentative, it draws you to your feet, possesses you to lean against the frame of the door and just out of sight.

You hear the disgust in your father’s tone when he speaks of the king. The weakness in forgiving France, the lunacy of Hal’s ascension. It amazes you, grips you tight at hearing such passion and loathing; you’ve never heard your father speak this way about anyone, let alone the head of England’s monarchy. Slander and defamation carry swift punishment.

You learn that he and Cambridge have been approached by French agents. The three men debate quietly as you stand against the door, nearly panting. A coup d'etat? The idea excites you more than it should. But you perish the thought quickly before you can get ahead of yourself.

Why only approach the two of them? Surely to turn England’s people against their ruler, a greater number of conspirators would prove to be more efficient? You know distrust is not uncommon among Hal’s council, so possible traitors would not be hard to find.

This approach means your father and Cambridge have been judged weak in character by the French. Insecure, lacking, most likely to bend at the knee for candied prospects in exchange for loyalty.

And now as you eavesdrop on your own father, you know Lord Grey does not have faith behind his king and is too afraid to do anything with it. You know that if you had not gathered this knowledge for yourself, you would never have been told so, unseen as all women are expected to be.

These French agents and councilmen think they hold all power with their debates and their meetings in private, oblivious to the fact that it is women who move the world. Women like you, wielding their very sex to push these men as pawns.

Are men not born into this world by women? Do men not seek a woman’s tender embrace for love and comfort and to carry on long, unbroken lineages of royal blood?

Your own father, as all his peers, are blind to the influence you bear over Hal. Even Hal himself.

You find yourself in the king’s private quarters one cold night, sitting in front of the hearth and watching the crackling, shimmering flames that warm the room. The soft silence is comforting to you as you sit bathed in orange glow, wrapped in furs and waiting for Hal’s return.

Your mind wanders. You think of the French assassin still held captive in the dungeons beneath your feet, how the man had been granted asylum in exchange for a confession.

“Quel était le l'ordre?”

“Que je devrais tuer le roi d'Angleterre.”

And with the French approaching Cambridge and your father, it is certain, undeniable that tension is thick and stakes high for all of England.

You are standing on the very brink of war, standing flush at the edge of a swallowing cliffside with dragging winds and dark, inky waters swirling beneath you down below. Waiting to embrace you, like the jagged shores of St Kilda, the northern shores of Scotland. Calling you home like a siren’s song.

And Hal only needs one final pull before you both fall together.

The chamber door opens and the king steps inside. His presence is stormy, like a cold wind blowing into the room.

He’s dressed handsomely in a navy tunic and dress shirt, a mantle that drapes over his burdened shoulders. Yet, his hair is mussed and disheveled and you can see the tightness around his eyes. His once youthful glow now gone, but a sharpness to him that you think resembles a pike; diligent, wary, and still capable of hurting you if you’re not careful.

You pretend to quickly wipe away tears before you stand to greet him. Hal sees this and his brows draw together in concern, further contorting his expression into one of pain. He comes to the fireside.

“Good evening, my king,” you say as he takes your hands.

“What upsets you so?” he asks you directly. His voice is strained, sets your pulse aflutter more than it should. You give a small, breathless smile, a shake of your head.

“Nothing of your concern, just innocuous thoughts, my lord. Let us go to bed.”

But you do not move in the direction of the luxurious canopied bed, one you have grown intimately familiar with. You stay exactly where you are and let Hal’s mind race.

His fingers grip your chin and when you meet his eyes, they’re bold and smoldering, the first touch of life in them you’ve seen for sometime. His grasp is strong and a muscle ticks in his jaw.

“Speak freely to me. Please,” he whispers. “Of all people. My dear, speak true.” The last word falls like a plea from his lips. You suppose it is one as he pulls you closer. A boy desperate for truth, constricted and poisoned by a council of vipers.

Unknowingly turning to the girl with the pretty mouth as she pours poison into his ear.

At this, you bite your lips and summon tears that spill forth, pool your vision. You let the familiar sensations take over, the shortness of breath, the depleted posture, and pretty soon you’re trembling, weeping in Hal’s arms.

“This assassin. It frightens me,” you say finally, broken. “If he had fulfilled his order and taken you from me, left me here all alone…oh, Hal. I’m so afraid.”

His thumb circles your cheek, silent. You sense that dangerous cocktail of anger and darkness simmering just beneath his skin. Anger at the world, anger reserved for his dead father.

“France means to have you killed, Hal. Then what of us?”

Us? England?

Tears drip down your neck and onto your rising chest. Where you’ve left the first clasp of your blouse carefully unbuttoned. You press yourself to him ever so slightly, look up through tear-soaked eyelashes and embered iresis.

“Then what of me?” you whisper.

Hal’s lips are crushing against yours. You feel every ounce of his anguish, every bit of tension wound tight in his frame, every doubt, every fear. You feel the restraint as he cradles the back of your neck, his other hand finding your waist as he pushes you flush against him. The dichotomy to feel love, to feel comfort and safety and to relieve and dispel just a hint of the pressure building inside him. The dichotomy to conquer, the urge to channel this animosity in a way he must be familiar, to ravish you completely.

With your bosom rising and falling so sweetly, eyes glittering with tears, looking almost divine with firelight circling the shine of your hair in a golden halo, you watch Hal’s walls collapse. You let him succumb to that mirage of safety and warmth, to ease his conscience. You will both get what you want, eventually.

You break apart to kiss the line of his throat, his pulsepoint, where you know he’s weakest. Hal gasps as you thread your fingers through his curls, bring your lips to his ear in a soft lull.

“May I have you tonight, my king? Completely?”

His response is immediate, yet wordless when he tilts back his head and feels your mouth against his jugular, the hand at your waist tightening.

At last, you lead him to the bed with the intent of christening it.

He pulls you atop him, helps you unthread the bodice of your nightgown. Despite the blazing fire behind you, the air chills your shoulders, your chest as you slowly expose more and more skin, finally letting the thin fabric pool around your waist. The feel of his bare hands cupping your body fuels you, act as your catalyst. Soft, firm.

The amber necklace swings like a golden pendulum when you stoop to kiss him again, his fingers ghosting over the skin of your back. Hal’s desires are plainly stated as you feel him harden against your inner thigh.

There is no time for coy deception tonight. You make quick work of his tunic, leave his trousers and instead unfasten and pull him through, positioning where he wants you most. Hal is already nearly panting.

You arch as he settles inside you, a biting stretch that has both of you sighing when you bury yourself into the crook of his neck. Something long-awaited. You stomach the discomforting pressure and set a rhythm, one that has Hal cursing into your hair.

“You must protect the women of England, my lord,” you whisper. “Who will do so if you are gone?” You punctuate your point with a well-timed swivel of your hips and Hal moans low and guttural. “Your wives and children. Can you protect me?”

Hal’s arms wrap around you, nearly choking on pleasure. “I will. Anything for you. Please...”

Unseen by him, you grin. You can practically hear the crashing ocean waves, to feel the quench of water at long last! You think you could make him do anything in this moment with how enthralled he is in bliss.

You sit back and Hal’s hands glide over the smooth expanse of your stomach, watching his eyes grow dark, the amber pendant swinging between the two of you. The discomfort in your belly is gone and you start to mirror Hal’s pleasure, head falling back, sighs growing louder.

And as the two of you finally fall from the cliffside and towards the waiting waters, Hal gives a soft cry, vision rolling and you feel his heat spill onto your inner thigh. You kiss him until the strength drains from his body, a true succubus as Hal at last descends into sleep, relaxed.

You have the king’s word.

You awaken the next morning to find the bed empty and cold. Surprised, you dress alone and return to your chambers to call for your breakfast. When you send for your father to share his company, the servant returns and tells you Lord Grey is currently engaged and his presence cannot be requested.

“A meeting, you mean?” You ask the servant rather crossly. Why must everyone speak to you in riddles? You obviously did not sleep much the night before and had trouble long after Hal had finished, like a slumbering babe beside you. Typical.

Your mood sours further in that you won’t be able to share this meal with your father. You despise spending mornings in solitude. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other in private, with no councilmen lurking about.

“No, my lady,” the servant stammers slightly, the words stumbling out of his mouth. “Lord Grey is condemned and is forbidden from taking meals before tomorrow morning.”

“What?” You growl at his vagueness. Your anger and irritation rise hot and fast and you’re tempted to hurl the glass cup of strawberries at this blubbering young fool.

“Lord Grey and Cambridge await execution tomorrow morning for treason, by order of the king.”

Your world stops. You send the servant away with a ghost of a whisper.

When the door snaps shut, you laugh mournfully. So the gossip had come to naught. Hal had indeed kept his word. Your stomach turns in nausea. Food is suddenly the last thing on your mind.

You rush to your writing desk, overturning bottles of ink, hands shaking when you retrieve quill and parchment, attempt to pen a desperate letter to Callum with a fevered hand. But before you can draft a single sentence, your blood turns cold.

You have not heard from your brother, from Isabelle in weeks. Have your worst fears already come true?

Glass and fruit explode against the far wall.

You tear out of the room like a bloodied banshee in search of Hal, fingers tinted crimson from cut glass and mashed berries.

And if thy right hand offend thee, cut it off, and

cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee

that one of thy members should perish, and not

that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

One of Miss Hunt’s chosen passages from the book of Matthew comes crashing into your mind. You are like Eve, you think. Bearing the burden of Original Sin with lust and curiosity. You have tasted the fruit and have seen the evils of mankind. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined your plan backfiring so horribly.

Now, hellfire awaits your father, for you when you draw your final breath your last day on this earth. Suddenly seeming to loom that much closer.

You approach Hal like Samuel’s ghost did to King Saul on the eve of war, the Philistines instead of the French. Interchangeable, cycles of warfare that have dawned for milenia and will continue until the end of time.

He looks terrifying, colder and more severe than you’ve ever seen, outfitted in those horrible blood red robes that one coronation dinner long ago you had once thought he looked becoming.

You know with one wrong word you could be joining the two men to die at first light. Your mind races.

“My lord, to think my own father had been plotting against you sickens me,” you speak slowly. The sentence stings like venom in your mouth, damning your father. Hellfire burns brighter. But it is the only way you can protect yourself. Your grisly appearance, your quick breaths, it is all to sell your story. “May I accompany you tomorrow morning as witness?”

Hal’s lips twist into a hint of a smile, the shadow of his former self. “Of course, my dear. Lord Grey may have failed his fatherly duties as protector, but I will not.”

And so, with your hands wrapped in fresh bandages and stitchings, you stand in a courtyard with wind whipping around you, the only Christian woman among councilmen and knights as you watch your father lay his head upon the chopping block. His hair has been shaved off to ensure the killing blow will be swift and true. Shivering, pale, and damp with sweat, he looks like a ghost. Soon, he will be one. You want him to see you in these final moments, for him to know that you will utterly destroy this king, but you cannot risk the danger.

Like the coronation, Latin prayers are recited, only this time they are prayers for your father and father-in-law to find peace in the afterlife. The last time you, Hal, Cambridge, and your father had shared company like this had been at the wedding. You know now that Callum and Isabel are truly dead. In the blink of an eye, Hal has slaughtered your entire family.

Weary, resilient Scotland.

You do not cry. You must show your loyalty.

“Requiescat in pace.”

Weak, fragile as Lord Grey starts to whimper aloud. No daughter should see their father, their protector through girlhood, like this.

The axe glimmers in the sunlight and is brought down with deadly precision. Your father’s head rolls grotesquely off of his shoulders in a wet gurgle. His body is shoved aside and Cambridge is pushed onto the block next, now slick with fresh blood.

Neither you nor Hal flinch.

You are now fatherless, Hal, kinless when you enter the neighboring chapel alone. You sit in the first pew respectfully, head bowed as Hal crosses himself and kneels before the altar. With his back to you, you study the firm line of his spine, his clasped hands with the beaded rosary held firmly between. Unmoving, statuesque. He prays for a long time.

Thou shalt not kill.

You wonder if God is so forgiving.

The images of angels, of Mary and Joseph and flawless purity are what drive you to march up to Hal and kiss him hard. He hums in surprise, brows furrowed, the pressure behind his mouth mirroring yours when you grip the back of his head.

You want to kill him the same way he had murdered your father. But you settle with digging your fingers into the back of his neck and relishing in the way he hisses against your lips. You fumble blindly with the fastening of his trousers.

“What are you doing?” he growls.

“Shut up.” You bite back.

You’ve never been afraid of Hal before today, you’ve had no reason to be. You’ve been so careful to build the reputation and the facade he sees, using words and sex to push him like the chesspiece you had thought him to be. And he’d pushed right back.

You want to hurt him in the only way you can.

He cries out when you suck him into your mouth with teeth and harsh pressure. You’re anything but gentle, taking him as far as you can so that you’re choking and Hal is grunting and pulling at your hair and the lewd sounds of your lips and tongue echo to the tops of the vaulted ceiling.

You’ve both lost family today. You are both selfish and full of quiet rage. The consequence of Hal’s choice is evident in how hard and wet you mold your mouth around him, how his hand tightens and pushes you farther down, wordlessly ordering you to finish him off in this holy church.

Like Christ Himself with bandaged hands, you twist and work at whatever you cannot fit between your lips. His hips snap forward, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes with burning throat, your scalp stinging from where he yanks back your hair, your linen caul disheveled. Saliva dribbles out of your mouth.

When his moans grow high and desperate, you take him out of your mouth and Hal’s release splatters white on the skin of your cheek, mouth still agape. He slumps forward on his knees, panting, as if still in prayer. The rosary dangles between his fingers.

Thou shalt not commit adultery.

The cross looms before you, silhouetted by candlelight. It is too much and you turn away.

If the change in Hal’s nature had not already been felt by all, it is seen in his dress. No longer does he donn the regalia of red cape and sceptre, but dark tunics and jackets that fit snug over the expanse of his chest. No more are the billowing robes, now replaced with tight military clothing and jackboots. A captain preparing for battle.

Hal recruits John Falstaff and countless other marshals for his campaign. It’s truly happening, you think. France will soon feel the wrath of England as your homeland and countless other countries have.

The amber necklace sparkles.

Tomorrow, Hal sets sail across the English Channel. Another crusade to add to the Hundred Years’ War. You wonder if French women are just as lustrous as the rumors suggest.

This is the last night you will be together like this for some time. The thought of Hal with another woman makes you quicken the hand you have around him and he gasps into your chest, spilling onto your thigh like that wedding night centuries ago. You’ve already made love countless times tonight, your bodies fitting together because it is only natural for two corrupt souls to find solace in the other.

Masquerading with voice and poise. A boy from Eastcheap and a Scottish girl.

As Hal shudders against you, kissing your throat and twining his fingers into your hair, he tells you he loves you.

You think you may love him too, in that twisted way of how fire craves oxygen. You need each other to fuel chaos.

You understand better than anyone the burden of a child forced to grow up, the weight of decisions and the toll it takes. Only the strong can endure such hardship, only the strong can triumph and come out on top. It has been so forever, a law as old as the world.

The speed at which Hal is already hard again makes you chuckle darkly. He pins you to the bed, hovering, eyes bearing into you before he enters you just the same.

“You were made to be beneath me,” he rasps, gripping your face with a single hand. His eyes glitter in the low light. The double entendre of his words make you rake your fingernails down his back in angry lines of red. He sucks a bite into the skin of your collarbone.

You know that when Hal returns from France, he will no longer be yours. He will be changed, most likely to marry a foreign princess to ensure peace. You think of Isabel and how she had evidently been the one to put you in this position of status, how a marriage is a man’s means to gain power. A law as old as the world.

Do you want him to be yours? The same way the English crown has raped and pillaged for the thrill of conquering the barbaric? A trophy? A prized kill? Still, the thought makes you bitter.

You say you love him back when he finds the spot below your ear, pushes your legs apart to drive into you that much harder.

There’s a bit of you that prays he will be victorious, that he will return to England and be yours again. But even if your paths do not cross in the future, you know you will see him again where the flames grow hot. Be that in his chambers or down below.

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knightofameris · 4 years

Text

period pains pt. 2

a/n: I HAD TO SPLIT IT UP BECAUSE I REALIZED THE TAGS GOT MESSSYYYYYY SO LOL

also just like i mentioned in pt 1, i’m still getting used to writing for haikyuu boys but i think i have an okay grasp at them,,, bokuto is the one i’m least confident on

haikyuu boys taking care of their s/o who’s on their period ;-;

the boys in question: Nishinoya Yuu, Tanaka Ryuunosuke, Sawamura Daichi, Bokuto Koutarou [i had to do noya and tanaka cus they’re PERFECT for THIS] [also under the cut, i didn’t realize how long it was ahahah]

[reposting AGAIN because it’s not showing up in the tags ):<]

nishinoya yuu

okay okay let’s say you’re stuck at home and you’re like oh shit

i don’t have anymore pads or tampons

must be pretty shitty so anyway (im sorry im not judging because this deadass happened to me twice LOL)

anyway you decide to text your boyfriend bb noya to get you some

and he’s like !!! I HAVE A MISSION AND IVE GOTTA HELP MY GIRL

because ya know he’s a simp king for yOU his sunshine

so he runs to the store to get you whatever you use

but then he sees all these different types of tampons and pads

this boy is overwhelmed

but then there’s some people in the same aisle as him

a couple he notices, and the girl giggles while whispering to her boyfriend “wow what a sweet boyfriend he is.” and he gets so PROUD

and the girl probably realized how lost he is and just told him to ask you.

so anyways he grabs the ones you told him to and the girl also tells him to get her favorite snacks and chocolate and heat packs and just everything you’d ever need

and he gets them he doesn’t care about no price tag 😤😤 anything for his queen

so when he gets to your place with all of these bags you’re like overwhelmed but your heart just BURSTS because he’s pulling out your favorite snacks and every other item while saying “this is for you in case you want to snack.” or “these heat packs will help your cramps” or “your favorite ghibli movie so we can watch together”

he’s so sweet i love him so much <3

needless to say y’all spend the rest of the day cuddling and stuff <3

tanaka ryuunosuke

okay i just really like the idea of the boys going on a tampon/pad run for you so like

a lot like noya, he is a SIMP KING for YOU his GIRL and he’s on a mission

so when he see’s all of these different types, like noya he’s overWHELMED

so he deadass texts you “what size vagina are you” while sending a photo of all the tampons and pads

what a dumbass

but you love him and at least it got a good laugh out of ya especially with everything.

when he goes to check out he feels people staring at him and but unlike that one text of those series of boyfriends buying pads/tampons for their girlfriends ( i hope you guys know which one i’m talking about)

tanaka would be so proud like “hell yeah i got a girlfriend and hell yeah i’m doing this for her because i LOVE HER”

we stan one man and his name’s tanaka ryuunosuke

anyways on his way home he also stops by a boba store and gets you your favorite drink

how sweet i love him

he also decides to spend the rest of the day with you and y’all watch movies or just sleep and he does whatever he can to help you get through your period

also he might’ve bought you wAY too much

like deadass probably a years worth. his reasoning is that there’s so much BLOOD probably i love him

sawamura daichi

daichi goes dadchi well i mean he is daddy but ya know

anywayyyyyy you probably were complaining to him about how your period was coming soon but that it was also late but you were still having ghost cramps

daichi has a moment of fear because he thinks you’re pregnant but then he remembers that the last time y’all did the do was before your last period, y’all been busy with volleyball and school okay lol

so daichi asks if there’s anything he can do because he wants to help however he can

but you’re probably just shake your head knowing he’s pretty busy with captain duties

he is a responsible dad and you love him for that and you dont want to take him from his kids but he kinda like is hesitant to not do anything for you.

so he just asks you to wait for him after practice so that he could walk you home and he also invites you to watch them

so that’s how you find yourself suddenly very aware of your period coming like the niagra falls and you dash over to your bag to see if you have any pads and for some reason!!! you forgot to restock!!! so you ask kiyoko

and she gives you some of hers

and you rush to the restroom

daichi’s confused but when you get back he looks over at you and has a look of concern so you just smile and give him a nod and a thumbs up

so anyway practice ended earlier than usual (probably because Daichi asked Ukai, but you didn’t know that but you did have a feeling)

Daichi walked with you (and the team also walked with you lol) and he went ahead to the store on the way home and just bought ALL of your favorite snacks AND chocolate

Noya and Tanaka go full on sad mode because they were like “that’s what I WOULD DO if I had a girlfriend” like that one meme with timmy turner’s dad, i hope y’all knwo what im talking about luh mao

so he walks you ALL the way to your place and he decides to stay awhile and your mom LOVES him so she’s fine with him in your room

he cuddles with you the rest of the evening before he has to go home and he makes sure to give you a bunch of forehead kisses or any other type of kisses.

i luv him <3

bokuto koutarou

okay sorry i had to use that gif cus HE’S SO THICC HIS ARMS BRO sorry sorry okay anyways

so you’re probably in hella pain one day but like you’re trying to get through the day with classes

usually you do work after school to wait for bokuto but this was a particularly bad day

so when you told bokuto that you’re gonna head home early he got all emo mode

“wha- do you not love me” and he has those dot eyes and you start to feel bad but like you’re in PAIN but you also know that he doesn’t particularly have the skill to tell how you’re feeling and stuff

ya gotta be really good at open communication with this kid

but open communication is good in general so like ya know

anyway, you’ll probably just tell him that you’re feeling sick because of your period or akaashi might mention something if he’s there

but anyway bokuto becomes hella understanding and tells you to rest up

during practice bokuto gets a little bit worried because he also wants to be a good boyfriend, ya know, so he probably talks to akaashi about all these things he’s going to do (it’s a little bit ,,, much. very extra LMAO)

but akaashi stops him and tells him that something small and simple might be best for you

so, he just makes sure to get some of your favorite snacks and runs on over to your place as soon as practice ends

once he gets to your place and you notice that he got you snacks and such it probably just makes your kokoro go doki doki LMAO

he probably apologizes for not really like realizing you were tired and in pain but you just make grabby motions towards him and he goes :D and dives into your bed, gently

he’s such a baby he probably rests his head ontop of your chest and like his legs are slotted against yours and you just hug him while playing with his hair

he lets you talk about your day and he talks about his day and as the two of you guys talk slowly the two of you fall asleep.

a/n: like i said in pt. 1, i was gon make parts of it nsfw because ya know, sometimes a little spice can help yo cramps LOL so if anyone wants an nsfw version i can do it, also again if someone wants other characters too ill do it. also im so sorry i felt a little lack of motivation for bokuto’s part im a clown

#nishinoya yuu x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #daichi x reader #nishinoya x reader #tanaka x reader #bokuto x reader #noya x reade #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#a.writes #💜.noya #💜.tanaka #💜.bokuto #💜.daichi

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nicolacoughlanbigheartfanpage · 5 years

Note

As a Liltim fan I want to know what did you think when they first were seen together walking together in Central Park last year or when Lily was announced to be part of the cast of the King , thank you in advanced my sweetie

Hi anon,

I don’t know how to express very well, cause I was the kinda of idiot that cried (yeah I know) I like a fan of both was ofc shipping it since I met Timmy, and got to ‘’know’’ him, he always looked like the boy who have a good match with her, but was just something in my head more than anything else, she was dating by the time, so was just more at least a wishful thinking that they could at least work together, I felt that they would meet sometime, being half french/american and have almost same age. This kinda answer your second ask, I was THRILLED BEYOND IMAGINATION ofc , I can’t put in words, was my two favorites in one movie. (I will try to explain in gifs, they always help, love them).

But then she started more and more become friends with Elizabeth, more on social media and stuff.. and I got a little suspicious, of all this, and her comments on ig with Lily. And later I knew that was something up sure when they were at San Sebastian last year, with Lily’s like on Elizabeth and Armie photo. From that day I was expecting something to finally show up, but just a few people yet saw them in NY when they returned, but I’m not a liar, to say that I didn’t get thrilled as fuck. But I just wish their happiness above anything.

Hope I answered your question, and sorry the long answer, I get excited sometimes.

PS: (I just really would like to ask if someone has that tweets, they saw them getting in the car back in San Sebastian after Timmy’s premiere of BB, I would love it and be really thankful.)

Have a great night 😊

#Lily Rose Depp #Timothee Chalamet #first photo #28 sep

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surviveatitlan · 6 years

Text

Episode 3 - I’m Literally Googling How to Protect Myself From Hexes - Francie

Francie

I'm literally googling how to protect myself from hexes

Yep!! Two tribes of 9!! I know a ton of ppl on this tribe so that should help but like, I still gotta be careful lmao. I'm gonna try not to work too closely with Emily because I don't want to hear any bs about "premades" like the last game we played together

i am literally hosting/was hosting (in tim's case) half this tribe + emily is my cohost rn wtfffff omg

Tim

So everything was going goood in my old tribe and all of a sudden we SWAP? I was not readyyyy. Like we were gonna rule the game as a tribe of 5. Tolimàn was robbed by one point yall.

Francie

the original acatenango peeps (the aca tacos) are trying to get tim and autumn to work with us rn so lets hope we can get this group together and have it be solid. autumn has no og tribemates left so that might help us. people to be wary of: heather and emily, both individually and as a duo bc I know that they adore each other so I can totally see them being a duo I gotta downplay my attachment to the aca tacos, esp my ride or die olivia

Allan

I'm really glad this swap happened. I really didn't feel accepted by my first tribe and I know if we went to Tribal, I'd most likely be out. Now I have the chance to make new allies. My strategy is to tell them that I didn't bond with my old tribe at all and hope that they see me as an opportunity for an alliance.

Tim

Me after seeing this challenge: https://confsnavarino.tumblr.com/post/171111635506 ITS ACTUALLY FUNNY GO CHECK IT OUT LOL

Francie

yep. tim/autumn/sammy/olivia/me alliance is a thing now. fingers crossed

Tim

Fill me up will alllll your propaganda. This is my second chance and I'm ready to get to the end.

Jay Bee

Honestly I think this swap has put me in a good position. I know enough people well enough to have options, but not well enough that I think I'll be targeted because of it. I have no idea who the fuck I'm going to align with though. The idea of Rebecka/Madison is scary, and Timmy says Rebecka/Dan is also a thing. I trust Timmy for some reason (I'm a meninist #exposed). OKAY so here's a swap assessment night 1: Timmy - Like I said, idk why but I Trust Ha. Hopefully he's not secretly a rat Bryan - A grade a Good Boy. Would definitely like to align with him. We just called for like half an hour so I'm hoping to nail down a relationship there. Brian - Um? I guess he's pretty new, which I think is good. I think he's really the only person on this tribe with no preconceived notions of me or other people Rebecka - Love her to death but SCARED of her relationship with Madison Madison - Same Dan - Seems okay, but I know he's friends with Rebecka so we love a core trio AnnMarie - please work with me Nick - Nobody seems to like him. I think he'll go if we lose, which is at least convenient if not good. Debating if I want to work with him just so that I'm not on the bottom. Rebecka proposed a me/Rebecka/Madison/Timmy/Bryan alliance but honeslee? I think in that formation I'm on the bottom, unless I can get Timmy and Bryan to want to work together with me. Anyway as usual I'm screaming.

Autumn

Me coming home to a bunch of strangers in my tribe https://media.giphy.com/media/nLhdSinRtaL2E/giphy.gif Y'all snatched my whole family and I should be pissed but like I'm really here for this new group so I won't turn up (maybe). Tim is my son, I love Francie, Olivia, and and Sammy already, Heather and Allan seem cool, and then Emily and I are on good terms again lmao. No comment on Jacob. So I come into tribe with all these new people, I'm juggling 7 conversations, and then Francie was like hitting me up for an alliance. I say yeah I really trust you and less than a minute later I'm in an alliance w/ Francie, Tim, Olivia, AND Sammy aka everyone I love? Nut the admins did me a favor https://media1.giphy.com/media/OTbo92zetdsha/giphy.gif

Timmy

This tribe swap is the best thing to ever happen. I actually know where I stand with Rebecka which is great. I know she will always have Dan's interests over mine so that is something I need to think about long-term, but for now it is okay because we are working together. Right now my number 1 is still Jay, I just have a really good feeling about Jay. Bryan worries me because he is an amazing player and I did vote him out in Alaska so who knows if he is bitter about that but we're talking right now so that is good. The second I saw Madison on the cast reveal I knew that I wanted to work with her because we did not get to in Himalayas and I knew ever since then that I wanted to work with her. She is messy and consistently messy but that could be good for me. Might as well have her on my side because if she isn't then I could go fast. But this tribe is amazing, best tribe swap ever!

Jay Bee

I honestly have no idea where the balance between cracked and inactive is!!!! Do you just.,.,.,..,not talk to people? I don't understand. I'm screaming. Help.

Francie

we're towards the end of this challenge i swear to god if jacob doesnt come online in time and fucking costs us this challenge.......

Jay Bee

We're doing the challenge right now and I'm SO DAMN STRESSED. I have a very hard time trying to let other people handle things and trusting others in general, so this is a special kind of hell. I can't believe this season supports underage binge drinking AND I can't believe I wish I were actually drunk. Send help.

Autumn

Candle king walking into Atitlan tonight? Sounds A-lit-lan https://img.buzzfeed.com/buzzfeed-static/static/2015-01/7/16/enhanced/webdr08/anigif_enhanced-20692-1420664628-12.gif https://em.wattpad.com/f6983ef619f199370692a5d6aa61048004415cc4/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f5a6e503033794868705a68795a673d3d2d3437393237303538382e313465626162373863366266356435353733373138343330393837362e676966?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280

Tim

So I FORGOT TO CONFESS HAHAHAH But this tribe swap puts me in a seemingly good spot my tribe seems strong and capable! An alliance was formed by Olivia that consists of her, me, Francie, Sammy and Autumn. I doubt that it will last simply due to the fact that it was based on absolutely nothing game wise. Im looking forward to working with Autumn closely as well as Emily so theres that! The 99 bottles challenge was intersecting as Jay would say. IT FUCKNG STRESSED ME THE FUCK OUT. It felt like I was micromanaging a little Ceasers or something. Making the lists AND posting at the same time?? Allan messed up but it was no big deal at all. JAKE DISAPPEARED ON US which sucks heavilyyyyyyy. Hes prob going if we lose again. Hopefully. ANYWAYS THAT reward challenge is giving me multiple strokes and gastreoarthritis or some shit like that lmao. I lieterally fel like Cirie in that one episode where she kept falling of of that balance beam. Im such a comp flop I mean the only comp I can win is Mastermind and thats if im lucky.

Nick

ABOUT TRIBE SWAP so we get into our new times and ONCE AGAIN all the people im close with exception for madison and timmy IS ON THE OTHER TRIBE AHH. Dan and Rebeckka hate me for the drama we had a month ago or so. Timmy is good friends with Dan and Beckka from what I know so like im probably screwed if we dont win the challenge. SO yeahhh this will be interesting I want my old tribe back LOLOL

Tim

So I forgot to mention that Em and I were sharing letters and so that at least lets me know that she is interested in working with meee. Also im gonna lie and say I didnt get a letter because I didnt attempt fhjksk s (Reward challenge that is)

Nick

CHALLENGE so we lost the semi live challenge .. kind of embarassing like too We had this whole plan set up and it got ruined Now i am going to tribal and welll if im voted out then i wont be surprised. Hopefully I have been proving myself helpful in challenges so hopefully im kept around longer #prayfornick

Jay Bee

This tribal is gonna be batshit!! Literally twenty minutes ago everyone was like "let's just go nick" but now I'm really Thinking About It and. That would be stupid. If you look at Madison/Dan/Rebecka as a trio (with Rebecka/Madison as a core duo OR Rebecka/Dan as a core duo) and with Bryan as kind of a gentle soul sucking their teet (love u bryan), then that's a solid group of 4. If Timmy and I (I guess I'm a meninst now bc we're f2 or some shit) go with that group, leaving out Brian and AnnMarie, to vote out Nick, that puts the two of us on the bottom of a 6-person alliance. The next tribal could be 4 vs. 4. If we save Nick, however, and vote off Rebecka - therefore voiding both the madison/rebecka duo and the dan/rebecka duo, thus destroying the trio - the next tribal could be 5 vs. 3 and we won't have one of the biggest social threats still in the game with two of her closest allies up with her. I think that would put me in a much better position long-term because I really need a core group of people who aren't ingrained with Emily/Francie/Heather/Olivia come a merge situation where it's my kids vs. me. Timmy, Brian, AnnMarie, and (unfortunately) Nick could be an integral part of that. Especially Brian, since he's new. I can use new. I need to keep around players who don't know me that well.

Timmy

Jay is cracked and I love her for it. We are playing so messy and are in alliances with literally the entire tribe. Love being a swing vote. Splitting up Rebecka and Dan is going to be a great move, it will suck personally and Dan will give me a lot of shit for it (and Rebecka might too) but it is just a game so have to have fun and being a mess is fun to me. Might as well be toward the top of a group than knowing I'm at the bottom of the group of 4 (Dan/Rebecka/Madison/me). I'm really just hoping this doesn't hurt me having a relationship with Madison at some point because I still want to work with her. The only worry in the plan is Brian because who knows what goes on in his head but I know he isn't controlled by Rebecka who is just telling everyone her plan and adding people to alliances without asking. Like I never said I was okay with her/dan/madison (I was happy to have a group, but a better one came along). All in all though, Jay is my number one so whatever benefits us both is what I am here for.

Brian

Its still eh. Some people are fake and there is so much pre-season relationships that i'm so oof. BUT i dont wanna be in the minority and if joining a make shift alliance helps, i'm down for it.

Bryan

Woo ok so we lost. That sucks. But I’m in an alliance with rebecka, dan, jay, Madison, and Timmy. And our goal is to vote out nick. I’m fine with that operative. He already talked about wanting to go against me rebecka and dan so like oops. I also love Annemarie. I need at least one person outside that alliance and that is her.

Allan

THANK GOD WE WON THAT CAUSE I FUCKED UP. But like seriously, I was so scared that we were gonna lose and I was gonna be at fault for it. Tbh I'm a little annoyed cause it really feels like Tim and I did all the work and when we asked other people to take over, no one offered. It really makes a bit dubious about trusting my tribe.

Olivia

Woohoo! We won immunity! I am just so happy about that. I have a nice sweet little alliance going with the three aca tacos and another one with us three and tim and autumn. Autumn is all alone and idk Tim's relationship with Allan. Tim Allan. Ahahahahhhaha. Anyways. Jacob's ass was GONE if we hadn't won. He is still my target should we lose the next one. I also did Pancreas and got a 29 minute score which I am assuming is terrible but who knows. I love Emily and Heather but I know for a fact, without confirmation, those two are working together. Emily has fawned over Heather since isle of skye and I just know they're a pair. I love both SO MUCH but i can't fully trust either. I thought for sure that being on a tribe with heather and tim, two close friends of mine, we'd immediately bond and become our new ride or dies. lol. but i think i can still work with both maybe but i like the 5 i already have so i guess we will see. how is it i have two idols, an extra vote, and i won immunity in another org but this one i got THIRTY MINUTES at Pancreas. oh well.

Heather

I have not confessed about my new tribe yet. I am now on the Atitlan tribe which is fun, and I have Emily who is a queen. Plus now I have some of my Isle of Skye people. I've missed playing with Olivia so much, ughh love of my life. And Tim is such an iconic king. Also Jacob from my other tribe, who has been inactive recently. Gotta do other impressions too Francie: I love them with all my hort. What a perfect bean. Allan: Seems super chill but immediately went into game talk Autumn: A sweetheart ughh my love. Saved our ass in the challenge like 5 times. Sammy: He likes musical theatre so I love him. nuff said AND WE WON OUR FIRST CHALLENGE TOGETHER WHICH IS FUN SO YEET

Dan

So this is a damn mess, I really want to trust that Nick doesn't have a secret majority alliance against me and Beckka because I don't know why literally everyone would just lie, ya know? But I wouldn't be surprised if it happens honestly. I think Beckka would go over me???? But like that's the ugliest thing ever. I don't know why Jay would make an alliance with most of the people in the game if it wasn't a solid thing, but like I'm still paranoid af. IT'S SO EARLY TO FLIP.

AnnMarie

I am so glad we didn't have to complete the full challenge because that was something I did not want to do at all (sorry Cameron). The only.nad part is that we have to go to tribal. Nick's name has been flying from all directions, and it's the obvious easy vote, but Nick is saying that Dan and rebecka are a powerful team. Jay has said that as well, so I don't really know what may go down at tribal. What I do know is that Nick will probably be the person voted out, as long as nothing super dramatic happens in the tribe. I'm super close to Jay and she's just amazing, Dan's super nice, and I LOVE BRYAN OK HE IS SO NICE AND I HOPE HE DOESNT END UP BEING A JERK in the long run. I'm so happy that I get to play with these people, and I can't wait to start a good alliance in this game with them.

Jay Bee

Loyalty? Who's she?

I told Nick EXPLICITLY last night not to tell Madison about our plan or alliance because she would tell Dan and Rebecka. Today, I wake up to the intel (from Dan) that Nick told Madison about everything. And guess the fuck what!! She told Rebecka and Madison. I'M NOT DUMB, NICK! Thankfully they all thought Nick was trying to make a power play and they don't believe I'm with Nick. NICK DO YOU NOT REALIZE HOW CLOSE I AM TO SLITTING YOUR THROAT!!! If you're gonna be loose-lipped I'm going to have to vote you out! Ugh. This is such a prickly position. I would much rather work with Brian/AnnMarie/Timmy just because they don't know me as well as Rebecka and Madison (and to an extent Bryan through Emily) do. I'm trying to figure out who the most disenfranchised people on the tribe are and use them because if I can be their only source of trust, they're always going to be loyal to me. The problem is that I don't want the next tribal to be 4 vs. 4. That gets messy really fast. If I do vote for Nick in the big group of Madison/Rebecka/Bryan/Dan/Timmy, that puts me in an alliance with all the power players and leaves out AnnMarie and Brian, who would be much smarter to have on my side in a merge situation, unless I want to go meat shield tactic in this game. I don't know Ugh. Timmy, please come online so I can talk through all of this.

Rebecka and Dan

https://youtu.be/AUDFxIjAuZM

Amanda (Guest)

Hello! So I know I'm not playing this game, and Cameron probably won't post this, but I was SUPPOSED to play this game so I'm leaving a confessional anyway. Just here to say that Rebecka and Emily are the true icons of the season for having me in their host chats and that's all. Also Cam. I love Cam.

Sammy

I’m so glad that our team won woooooo

Emily

Omg I'm such a FLOP! I didn't realize I hadn't confessed so hey I'm in public speaking pretending to do my work! Anyways, super happy about our tribe winning the challenge. I really was thinking we were going to lose because of FUCKING JACOB! He like. Was not here. At all. Total flop. Major flop. I haven't even heard from him in like two days. WHY PLAY A SKYPE BASED GAME IF YOU DONT CHECK SKYPE REGULARLY??? Anyways, I recorded a cast assessment but it's a mess because I'm really sad in it and you can tell im a mess so im gonna type it bc you can't tell im upset when im typing!!!!!!!!!!! ALLAN: Really helpful in the challenge so I'm a stan! Hard to talk to I think but I'm really vibin him. I think he's gonna be a good asset to our tribe! Yay! I don't really have much to say about him right now AUTUMN: I'm going to PRAY that she's not bitter from All Stars. That was like a month ago and honestly get the fuck over it. You made a stupid move and it backfired on you! That's it. Don't make a stupid move against me this game and I'll work with you! I really like Autumn and I like how she plays but reading her Navarino confessions I can tell she's just someone that holds onto grudges for far too long and it's annoying. All Stars is not a good representation of my game. WORK WITH ME PLEASE FRANCIE: love of my life.... I said in the beginning I didn't want to work with them but I realized that if I want to work with Tim.... Francie is probably also gonna have to be my ally. Francie and I were also talking about how, if we lose, Jacob would be an easy vote because he's inactive! I know that a lot of people would be fine with that. Also, he hasn't competed in Pancho so I don't think he has any letters? Like he didn't even get the one from the rules? So no idol for Jacob. Easy vote. Bye bye. HEATHER: I'll sell my soul for Heather. My queen. I love her. Honestly I can't wait for her to snake me. Fucking queen. I just love her. If anyone targets her I'M COMING FOR THEIR ASS. STAY OFF HEATHER BYE BYE! JACOB: Inactive. Bye OLIVIA: I REALLY want to work with Olivia. I plan on making her my number one in this game. I just get such a good vibe from her. She seems intelligent, stealthy, and fun... that's what I want in an ally. She also has some good connections with other people and she's got a good social game. Definitely someone I want to work with and go far with. But, not too far because she'll win the game, but... I'm also trying to be loyal this game. Loyal to a fault makes people upset. So. I'm gonna have to decide. SAMMY: I played with him and Indonesia and led the charge to vote him out right before merge so like he could hate me? But he also voted for me to win the game. SO. I don't think he's bitter, but he knows I think he plays messy. He's super sweet though and I'm a stan. I gotta be careful what I leak to him, but I like him and can see myself working with him in the future. TIM: MY KING! I love Tim and want to work with Tim high key. He's such a sweetheart and I'm really hoping we can go far. I'd be so down for a little group of he, Olivia, and I. Is that proper grammar? I don't care. Anyways, I love how he plays and he's very well thought out and stuff so I'm really hoping we can go far together. I'm a Tim stan. A major Tim stan. It's still too early for me to for sure tell you who I'm working with (I usually go from round to round, but I don't want to do that this game. No flip-flopping this time unless it genuinely will be better for me AND others.) I'm really trying to refine how I play. I'm trying to be more honest. More social. More logical and strategic, but at the same time, not as PURELY strategic? I need to make sure my social game is phenomenal before I start going off and being a strategic mastermind. People won't listen to people they don't like, and they won't vote for them either. Whew. Okay I hope this super long confession makes up for my lack of confessing. Goodbye!

Jacob

I was asked to make a confession so here it is. I'm glad we won or I'd be screwed for falling asleep after inventory bleh.

Timmy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OolhMHA3F0o&feature=youtu.be

Emily

Finding out all these people's zodiac signs is very inch resting... I y'all I really do. Capricorns? Gotta go next. I don't stan. Bye bye.

Madison

WHOO okay last minute confessionals lemme hear you say WAYYYY HO!!!! Nick is the vote which like awk bc now we’re in another game together so sucks I guess. Also he came to me trying to vote puts rebecka though so like wtf bye bye.

Rebecka

Me if I get voted out tonigt: Thank you dan and jay for being loyal. Thank you also the the people who voted me out now so I don't have to go through a bunch of other rounds of drama and lose xoxo

#episode #lakeofbrokendreams

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elskerspierfeld · 6 years

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post for emily ♥️

dear emily (aka my favorite person in the world, my soulmate, the goat, the love of my life, an actual angel and my everything),

i wanna just start by saying that i love you so so so much. no one has ever had such an impact on my life and i don’t really know how to explain it but you’ve made me a better person and enabled me to just be myself cause i know that no matter what you’ll still be there. you’ve made me feel happy in my darkest moments and made it known that i’m not alone and i always have you even when i can’t message you. i know this sounds cheesy but whatever you’ve had the biggest impact in my life and you’re so important to me and i never wanna lose you ever. you’re literally my everything i don’t know where i’d be without you but i mean it when i say i’m nothing without you, you mean everything to me. i don’t know what i did to deserve you but messaging you was the best thing i ever did and i can’t imagine my life without you. you’re honestly just the most beautiful person i’ve met inside and out and i want you to try to believe that. you actually have the biggest heart and your ability to support others whilst you’re going through so much yourself is incredible like you’re just incredible and so loving and caring of the people around you and i aspire to be like you. i love you with my whole heart and i just want you to be happy because you truly do deserve everything good in the world. and i know that whilst i try to be, i can’t always be there for you all the time and i know that at times you may not want to talk to anyone so i hope that this post can make you feel like you’re not alone and can help to cheer you up whenever you’re feeling a little down. it is pretty much just a collection of photos that i hope will make you smile.

SKAM:

okay so realistically what else would i start with,, i mean this is the lovely show that brought us together after all ♥️

so imma start with skam at pride cause nothing is cuter than that:

okay and then these are just other cute photos of the cast because why not

and who could forget these gems

and then we have the iconic photoset which literally killed us lol

and some other stills from THAT episode

and these cute gifs djfksdjfk

and then we just have some random funny skam videos and cracks and billy

https://youtu.be/K5y9Ylj-HeA

https://youtu.be/TYMLm_s6P9s

https://youtu.be/m5JDHoBFpJI

https://youtu.be/C_8HFV0zwoY

and next we have some cute photos of timmy cause he’s a king

youtube

aw baby boi

king and queen

my actual parents wow

next we have some house of anubis dkjfkdsfjd wow i literally hate myself

literally what the fuck was this show i-

hands down the cutest friendship

my first otp omf

eddie again because he is just fiiine lmao

okay now we have some love simon stills because that movie is adorable so

and then i know you like gallavich so here are some cute photos of them looking cute and in love

i’m not sure why they’re bleeding but... they’re cute

and then i know you also like my mad fat diary so i found these random pics too lol

this guy is cute so enjoy lol

and then we have some noah centineo and lana condor because they’re beautiful

and then we also have these sdjfkdsjf

youtube

and then we have paul, the finest specimen on earth

hE’S SO FINE

and sigrd just because she’s cute and always looks happy in photos so

lmao i know you liked one direction and in particular harry and zayn so...

fetus 1D:

and here’s some harry:

and some zayn:

peep megamind!zayn

just because i know you have a thing for his semi-bald phase sdjkfsdj

okay now we move onto fivesos and these are all fetus photos lmao they make it too easy

luke:

bonus: tell me that is not a mini luke meeting harry jskdjdfks

ashton:

calum:

michael:

i literally can’t with this one dkjsjdks

and this final one that just sums up the band lmao

okay i actually forgot how funny they were watch me stan again skksk

youtube

okay and then would this really be a post from me if it didn’t have a shit ton of dogs on it

and then these are just some random barely even funny text posts that you’ve probably already seem but anyways they make me laugh so sdkfjdfk

and finallyi know it’s not valentines day but i love you every day so sksksksk

so that pretty much concludes this post. i tried to put all the shows and people you’ve mentioned that you liked before cause i know for me, seeing my faves makes me happy, but i probably missed quite a few sorry. i hope that this does manage to cheer you up or brighten your day even just a little bit when you look at it. i just want to end by saying i hope that this post helps you feel loved and appreciated because i truly love you so so much and i always will. i know i’m not the best with words but i’m trying and if you ever wanna talk i hope you know i always here, and if you don’t then i’ll still always be here to support you and i hope that this post helps in the meantime.

all my love,

shehnai ♥️

#hopefully this makes you smile #i adore you #you're my everything #i'm always here for you #i hate tumblr why is it so difficult to use #yes i literally had to upload one pic at a time and it took hours but lmao what is my life anyways sksksk #i hate this shitty blue site #but i love you and i hope you have a great day queen

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junker-town · 7 years

Text

2021 NBA player rankings, Nos. 60-51: Ranking Andre Drummond and Isaiah Thomas is hard

How do we deal with a big man whose progress has stagnated? How do we deal with a short point guard coming off a magical year?

We begin this section of our countdown of the 101 best NBA players in 2021 with someone who did not develop as we expected. We end it with someone who developed far more than anyone expected, but is being doubted again after a health scare.

In between, we have the usual mix of high-upside youngsters and quality veterans we think will hold on just fine in four years. We also have the guy who went No. 59, thanks to one of us going out on a limb.

60. Andre Drummond

Age in 2021: 27 (9 seasons)

CHRIS GREENBERG: Maybe Andre Drummond didn’t merit the No. 3 spot in the previous edition of these rankings. But the Pistons’ center does still have four seasons averaging a double-double in the first five of his career. He played no fewer than 81 games in those four double-double seasons.

He’ll be just 27 entering the 2021-22 season. He’ll also very likely still be 6’11. These will be useful qualities.

Everyone else’s reactions

LAZARUS JACKSON, DETROIT BAD BOYS: Drummond was third (?!) in the top 100 of 2017. He didn't deserve to be that high then, and he doesn't deserve to be this low now.

TIM CATO: Drummond was typecast as a star early on, but he’ll settle into a DeAndre Jordan role just fine in the coming years. Though that might works best if he gets out of Detroit.

MATT ELLENTUCK: Drummond needs a new home and I hope it happens before 2021. Detroit hasn’t figured out how to get the most out of him.

TOM ZILLER: Free Drummond!

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: Still can’t shoot free throws.

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59. Tim Hardaway Jr.

Age in 2021: 29 (8 seasons)

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: Ha! You thought I wasn’t gonna take 2 Knicks in a row? You thought wrong. Hahahahahaahahaahahahahaaha!

In four years, New York should have overhauled its culture and have set up some semblance of a winning foundation. While Kristaps Porzingis will be key to New York’s success, the Knicks will expect Tim Hardaway Jr. to take the steps in developing into a fringe All-Star. Hardaway can shoot and score off the dribble and has become a decent perimeter defender.

If he continues this upward trajectory, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s at least one of best 15 wing players in the league in 2021.

Everyone else’s reactions

CHRIS GREENBERG: On behalf of reasonable Knicks fans (seriously, we exist), I cannot endorse this selection.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: This is the most Kristian pick ever.

Listen, I like THJ a lot. Seems like a great kid. But he’s going to be stuck playing for the Knicks until 2021 considering that wild contract they handed out. Therefore, he is doomed.

MIKE PRADA: “In four years, New York should have overhauled its culture and have set up some semblance of a winning foundation.”

Where’s the MJ spitting gif when you need it?

MATT ELLENTUCK: I’m throwing up.

TIM CATO: Those Knicks-tinted glasses do fit your face well, Kristian.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: Damn right, Tim.

JOE FLYNN, POSTING AND TOASTING: He'll probably never defend and his three-point shooting has always been a touch overrated, but Timmy continues to expand his offensive repertoire and could end up one of the league's best scoring guards.

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58. Mike Conley

Age in 2021: 33 (14 seasons)

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: Mike Conley is under the radar now and he’ll still be under the radar in 2021. He’ll only be 33 in 2021 and is going to still be one of the league’s best point guards. As much as I wish Conley could go play for a contender, he’ll still be in Memphis. Still underrated. Still grinding as Mike Conley does.

Everyone else’s reactions

TOM ZILLER: This is an outright steal.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: 33-year-old Mike Conley will play a lot like current Mike Conley, making this the best value pick of this draft.

JOE MULLINAX, GRIZZLY BEAR BLUES: This is interesting because that means Conley at age 35 will be viewed as still potentially the second- or third-best player on the Grizzlies.

I hope that’s true, but his size and playing style make me nervous. Players can change and evolve their games over time of course (see Gasol, Marc), so it’s possible Conley becomes much more perimeter-based as he ages.

MIKE PRADA: The reason I didn’t take him higher is that I’m worried that history of foot and leg injuries will catch up to him. Of course, we’ve been saying that for a few years now.

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57. Nerlens Noel

Age in 2021: 27 (8 seasons)

TIM CATO: I f$%^ing love Nerlens, man. His block and steal rates are setting records, his finishing ability around the hoop is wildly efficient, and he occasionally shows flashes of skill in places you wouldn’t expect your defensive anchor center to show them. Such as: leading a fast break, or nimbly Eurostepping around a defender, or pump-faking from 20 feet and dunking on the other side.

iIt’s hard to get too wildly excited about him until he finishes a couple seasons without any major injuries. But I legitimately think this 23-year-old has Defensive Player of the Year potential once he puts it all together.

Everyone else’s reactions

TOM ZILLER: I’m a little worried about the Nerlens Noel experience after he got traded for nada and slow-walked through a drawn-out restricted free agency.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: This summer also concerns me.

NICK ANGSTADT, MAVS MONEYBALL: Although he has tremendous upside, the injury risk may prove to be too much for teams. No. 57 seems like a fair spot to swing for the fences.

MATT ELLENTUCK: Nerlens is putting a lot of pressure on himself this season by taking that qualifying offer. However, I think next to Dennis Smith Jr. in a season with little expectations, this could be the perfect environment for him to thrive.

CHRIS GREENBERG: I’m just here for the Tyson Chandler comps.

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56. Eric Bledsoe

Age in 2021: 31 (10 seasons)

KOFIE YEBOAH: This ranking is all about how well Bledsoe’s legs will continue to support his aggressive play style. It may seem rash, but with so many great young players entering the league, I can see why Bledsoe fell this far on the list.

I really hope Bledsoe and Devin Booker stay together for at least these four years, because win or lose, there will be highlights.

Everyone else’s reaction

TIM CATO: Bledsoe goes 56th. The league’s other Eric, Eric Gordon, was (spoiler!) not taken. Wondering which player is better in 2021 is a legitimate question, I think, though a lot comes down to health.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: What blatant disrespect to Eric Moreland.

TOM ZILLER: Bledsoe is way better than Gordon right now, I’d argue, because he’s a more complete player. But yes, health matters here.

TIM CATO: I believe we’re underrating Gordon.

But back to the point — Bledsoe’s a fine player, and this is a perfectly adequate pick, if a bit high for my tastes.

DAVE KING, BRIGHT SIDE OF THE SUN: By 2021, the 31-year old Bledsoe can still be near his NBA peak as long as he stays healthy, putting up 18, five, and five in his sleep.

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55. Thon Maker

Age in 2021: 24 (5 seasons)

MIKE PRADA: I’ve been a huge fan since I talked to the Bucks’ brass about him during his first Summer League. They expected Maker to play in the D-League his first year and slowly build up core strength.

Six months later, he was the starting center on a playoff team. Maybe that was true in name only since Greg Monroe played most of the minutes, but that’s still a much faster rise than the Bucks expected.

He still needs to bulk up smartly, but he’s already flashed a nice shooting stroke, plus terrific defensive instincts at the rim and on the perimeter. That last part is crucial and separates him from some of the other big men in this range. As long as the Bucks’ front-office dysfunction doesn’t swallow him up, he’s well on track to becoming the perfect post-modern NBA big man.

(I really want the Bucks to be good. Please don’t let me down.)

Everyone else’s reaction

KYLE CARR, BREW HOOP: Thon’s ceiling could be All-Defense level; he has the athleticism and work ethic. If he can put that all together and still shoot a respectable percentage from three-point range, he will shoot past a lot of people on this list.

TOM ZILLER: He could legitimately end up in the top 25 on this list even if his offense doesn’t develop much. That defense!

RICKY O’DONNELL: The world deserves Mixtape Maker by 2021.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: #MixtapeMakerForPrez

I think he’s gonna be much, much higher on this list in four years.

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54. Kevin Love

Age in 2021: 32 (13 seasons)

MATT ELLENTUCK: We still overlook how great Kevin Love is, though his 2016-17 finish was below Kevin Love-type standards. There is a legitimate argument to be had that he’s the second-best Cavalier, before and after Kyrie Irving his traded. On his own, Love showed the type of production he can maintain over the course of a season with the Timberwolves.

Love has the perfect build to thrive into his 30s too. He’s a true power forward who can slot into the five as he ages.

Everyone else’s reactions

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: Where will Love even be playing in 2021?

CHRIS GREENBERG: Wherever gorgeous, half-court outlet passes are needed, he’ll be there.

TOM ZILLER: Good pick.

KOFIE YEBOAH: Droppin’ Dimes Droppin Dimes! I hope Kevin Love switches to that old man pickup style of play: annoying, but you can’t stop it.

CHRIS MANNING, FEAR THE SWORD: Provided his back and knees hold up, his shooting and rebounding should still make him a useful player for most teams.

MIKE PRADA: Still a good player now, but I worry about his long-term health. Also a little worried that players like him -- those once-elusive skilled big men that aren’t long enough to alter shots at the rim or quick enough defend the perimeter — are slowly going out of style in favor of converted 3s sliding up a position.

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53. Khris Middleton

Age in 2021: 29 (9 seasons)

RICKY O’DONNELL: I don’t think 3-and-D players will be out of style by 2021. There are few better right now than Middleton and he’ll only be 29 years old at this point.

Everyone else’s reactions

TIM CATO: This is a really good pick. I considered taking Middleton even higher than this, because I honestly think a Jimmy Butler/Paul George breakout year could be coming for him.

KYLE CARR, BREW HOOP: His two way ability will always be valuable, as he is still someone that makes your team better when he is on the court. Maybe as he increases in age, his three-point shooting rate will also increase.

MIKE PRADA: We sure Middleton can be the same player after that major hip injury? He didn’t quite look like himself down the stretch last year.

TOM ZILLER: I get nervous about low-profile 3-and-D players that basketball hipsters become enamored with all of a sudden. I remember Quinton Ross and Bobby Simmons.

TIM CATO: Yeah, but Quinton Ross and Bobby Simmons weren’t good. Middleton averaged 18 on 56 percent True Shooting two seasons ago, and looked as good as you’d expect coming off a major injury last season to me.

KRISTIAN WINFIELD: I was in Brooklyn for the game Middleton returned to the Bucks. Giannis seemed very excited to have his teammate back. I believe he’ll still be a good shooter — spot-up and off-the-dribble — and a capable defender.

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52. Justise Winslow

Age in 2021: 25 (6 seasons)

ZITO MADU: This is admittedly a risky pick. Injuries cut Winslow’s season short at just 18 games, and in those 18, he wasn’t exactly a beacon of hope. But he’s only 21, and a good defender. There’s so much time left for him to improve his offense.

Everyone else’s reactions

TIM CATO: He may be a second coming of Tony Allen, but I’m not even sure that’s a top-100 player in today’s NBA. I mean, Andre Roberson sure ain’t.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: Winslow is the dude you want to be this good, but it’s just not gonna happen for him.

MATT ELLENTUCK: I don’t buy much into Winslow’s future. He’ll play towards the end of a rotation, but he’s too limited offensively to be close to a top-50 player.

TOM ZILLER: I almost took Winslow higher. I believe. I can’t live in a world where neither Michael Kidd-Gilchrist or Justise Winslow make it. The children of Gerald Wallace deserve more!

MIKE PRADA: This was only a year ago. I believe, too.

MATT PINEDA, HOT HOT HOOPS: If this is true, it means that Justise has become an elite defender. His offensive game isn't going to get him near No. 52.

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51. Isaiah Thomas

Age in 2021: 32 (10 seasons)

TOM ZILLER: The dude just averaged 29 points per game for a No. 1 seed. He has relatively low mileage because he once came off the bench for Jimmer Fredette and because he was a relatively old rookie.

He’ll be 32 in 2021 and his namesake was a small guard who didn’t age well, but times are different. If a 36-year-old Chris Paul is going to be the No. 77 player in the NBA in four years, Isaiah is sure as heck worthy of being here.

(For the record, I made this pick before Cleveland told the world Isaiah’s hip was a disaster).

Everyone else’s reactions

TIM CATO: I don’t like short point guards — or more specifically, point guards who can’t play passable defense. But let’s not let the backlash go too far. I like this pick.

MATT ELLENTUCK: I expected him to go a lot higher and for me to have to scream in this segment of the post, but nah, this seems about the right place for him.

WHITNEY MEDWORTH: He’s 5’9 though.

CHRIS GREENBERG: According to him, he’s more like 5’8.

KOFIE YEBOAH: A 32-year-old point guard who is my height. I have mad respect for IT. It would be absolutely wild if he’s still this productive in four years.

CHRIS MANNING, FEAR THE SWORD: Let's see how his hips heals and how he plays this year before even considering how good he'll be in 2021.

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INTRO | FULL LIST | TOP 100 OF 2017 | HOW WE DID IN 2013 | SNUBS | 101-91 | 90-81 | 80-71 | 70-61 | 60-51 | 50-41 | 40-31 | 30-21 | 20-11 | 10-1 | THE CASES FOR NO. 1

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