#surprise i aint dead lol

[sporelings-au]

How did mother spore meet her lovely hubby?

@whatmoredoyouwangfromme

again, my eng aint that great so if there's any confusion, ask me and i'll clear it up as best as i can ^^;

---

so doc's a creeper and goat hybrid that is being kept alive by machinery. (why? idk yet lol. maybe bc he fought god or he exploded before idk)

He left his hometown in search of some place else to live in (why? again, the author is just incompetent at making up stories ><)

He set sail in a boat and ended up crashing into mother spore's island. Mother immediately sensed him and thought it was a HEP agent. He went to check out what happened only to find doc lamenting about his ruined ship. And mother is immediately intrigued.

he's never seen someone like doc before. A creeper and goat hybrid? the very idea is laughable to mother. But here doc stands, trying to salvage what was left of his ship.

Mother is even more intrigued of doc when it seems that her mycelium and fungus doesn't affect doc at all.

like i said, doc's half cyborg, so whatever machinery that's keeping him alive also disintegrates any bacteria- or in this case, mycelium spores from entering his system. Making him fully immune to mother spore's influence.

So, mother spore decided to play around with doc to test his abilities. She would make the mushrooms on her island shift and move around, confusing doc about his whereabouts (and also making sure doc doesn't get close to the mansion).

Then, she would send out her sporelings to play tricks with doc by placing traps. (the sporelings and mother would remain unseen by doc throughout all this)

but doc's a smart guy. Doc would stop trusting his surroundings and instead count his steps to determine where he is and make sure he doesnt get lost. He's also getting better at recognizing if there's a trap laid out for him and disarming them.

Mother would then get more and more frustrated by doc outsmarting him but at the same time very impressed by doc actually surviving and adapting on his island.

the sporelings would then get careless with making sure doc doesn't see them and one day, doc caught ren.

Doc saw ren wagging his tail while laying down traps and he picked ren up like a kitten, surprising both ren and mother. Mother was about to charge in and kill doc but stop bc doc just placed ren back down, letting him run away.

now, mother spore is even more curious about doc.

slowly, doc uncovered all the sporelings one by one.

and with every sporeling he caught, the closer to the mansion mother would allow him to get.

then one day, doc got to the mansion and mother spore is in front of it, waiting to give doc a final test.

Mother spore invites doc into the mansion for tea but doc politely declines, knowing the moment he set foot into the mansion, he would instantly become a dead man.

And mother spore was like "smart and polite. I like you." and let him leave the island scot-free.

But doc doesn't leave. Well, he would occasionally, to get supplies but he would always return to the island.

The sporelings would then get comfortable around doc and started to actually really like him and accept him as a part of their mushroom family.

mother and doc would also bond with each other and get really close. But each time mother invites him in for tea, doc would still decline.

until one day, when mother invites doc in for tea again, doc actually accepted.

Doc can't get infected by the mycelium, but mother made sure the food and drinks he gave doc that day weren't laced with mycelium anyways.

[noritoshiikamo]

Husband Ajax seeing his first born for the first time?🫶🏽🫶🏽

husband!childe series— before yall threw the tomatoes at me, i know i would change this manipulative man into a soft baby daddy the moment he sees his child teehee

cw not so descriptive mention of birth (and i never had one maybe it aint that accurate lols, softie childe uwu

he would continue to surprise you.

after all he was the one who was more excited about the baby. sure, you love the growing child you more but ajax probably took it to the top. he is a family man. the closer you get to your due date, you’ll be seeing more of his fluffy ginger head roaming around the house. you would be confined to your room, for your own sake. sleep was out of the question so you found yourself sometimes dozing off against the bedpost with his head against your belly, singing lullaby in your mother tongue. your fingers found solace weaved between his head soon you found him sleeping first before you.

you didn’t realise your water broke until you heard his sharp gasp. you rolled your eyes knowing you’ll get the scolding of your life for leaving the bedroom (ajax had been carrying your meals up to the room) but when you turned around to face him, he had a panicked look to his face.

he looked at you in disbelief, “are you oka-insane??”

“what?”

“your water broke, are you fucking okay? you are leaking all over the floor, don’t you know pain?”

that started the most torturous 16 hours of your life. he made a clean space for you in the middle of the living room, you were struggling to feel the pain until it was 8 hours in. your first actual contraction almost broke his fingers. midwife insisted that they will be there once you reached a certain centimeters but ajax was relentless. maybe it almost broke him, seeing you in pain, struggling between the contraction and taking in a breather. 13 hours in, you swore it was the most painful contraction you ever had but the easiness that came afterward felt off.

“ajax,” your words trembled.

“yes, yes, midwife is coming in a minute, just take a deep breath,” he repeated the same words, moved to reach for the cold cloth, wringing it before gently patting your forehead and cheeks but you grabbed his wrists. “no, ajax, listen, something’s wrong,” his face changed. like a reflex, his hand rested on your belly.

“you have to check down there.”

blood drained out his face, “no, i-i can’t.”

“you have too! please, just help me check,” your words should’ve come out as a plea ended up being just a string of sobs. you never seen him trembled. of all the preparation you both had taken to welcome the baby, this wasn’t apart of it. you had never prepared for your first baby to be coming out dead nor ajax ever accepting that that option even exist. your worst nightmare had come to life. shaking to grab the blanket aside, he moved your dress aside before falling onto his ass. your sobs echoed louder in the room. his silence were terrifying. “y/n, the baby is out,” hearing that made you felt lightheaded.

“a-ajax, the baby’s not crying. ajax!”

both of you couldn’t recall the night clearly. it was a train of blurred film reels running in the back of your head. you remembered fractions of it; screaming for him to help the baby, him cradling his quiet baby trying his best to clear the mouth and the nose, the loud banging of the door. there were people, baby moving from one hand to another. you were getting tired, ajax’s trembling, bloody hands reaching for your weak hand. but when the reels ended and you heard a soft cries, your mind snapped.

you heard the baby’s first cry.

“take off your shirt, keep the baby against your chest, the mother has some more to do,” one of them said. your chest tightened as his hands left a void of emptiness within your own and you were forced back to pushing. it was more painful pushing a part of you out; the home that grew your child for nine long months that you felt half of your soul disappeared. you didn’t know why you were crying, slumping against the pillow didn’t realising a word you were saying until someone repeated it back.

“ajax, she’s calling for you.”

you felt like the world was black and white, a white background noise ringing in your ears until a finger brushed your cheeks. you didn’t realise you were crying but he was too. his cheeks as flushed as the baby whimpering against his bare chest. maybe you didn’t know what true love is when it comes to him but you knew a true love exists with the way he looked down on his child. you knew what happiness is when he smiled and the corner of his eyes wrinkled in excitement when he placed the baby against your chest.

“say hi to our child.”

a/n: gotcha ;)

© all content belongs to noritoshiikamo. do not modify or repost.

[aerticent]

I wanna talk about it more lol

Something that's interesting to think about is the fact that had Cal rejected the crown at the end of KC, it's very likely all of those Nortan High Houses that were supporting Cal, and by extension the guard, would've left to support Maven. Like I think in every scenario Mare would've (and would've had every right to) been pissed at him because in her eyes it's a full betrayal. Him taking the crown back after everything reaffirmed to her the belief that she really can't trust anyone. (I also think what made him taking the crown back was even more fucked for Mare was that Cal assumed she was angry on the basis of he was going to have to marry Evangeline but thats a whole other thing lmao) BUT I think politically him taking the crown was the best move for the Guard. If he abdicated the throne it would've made Maven the rightful heir. Like I'm surprised Cal was allowed to be so hands on with the war given that had he died, Maven's claim would've been completely valid. Cal having such a huge importance in the entire war is so so interesting cause like by the end of the war when he goes through with abdicating the throne it's because Maven is dead. And then when Cal had his kids both of them had to do the same because they were next in line like that country just aint giving up lmao

[rollingsins]

Hi! What a nice surprise to wake up to. I'm on my way to work and reading this now cause I am desperate and can't wait until my break. Let's go!

Ugh Richie get your nasty cheetoh fingers off of her! R doesn't want to catch your crusty disease.

Oh boy. R will have a bruise cause of Richie. He is dead. Tara will gut him. See ya never again, bye! 👋🏼

Lol immediately R screams. Love that. She doesn't let Richie boss her around. Good.

Oh fuck yes! Well done Sam! Even if he isn't Ghostface, she should have kicked him out anyway. Finally Sam came to her senses. Better late than never.

Ha go drag his sorry ass! Too much to drink and just saw her. What a creep he is. Seriously, can Tara please kill him?

BITCH YOU AINT NOBODYS FRIEND. NO ONE LIKES YOU YOU DISGUSTING STINKY MAN!

Oh no. Go get Tara! RUN R!

lol, terrible timing cause Tara is probably getting stabbed right now but I knew it! That stupid darn whistle was entirely useless! Take that, whistle. I won.

Uff. My heart. Tara is never scared. She always has the upper hand. Now she can't do anything. Poor baby. She's probably so scared to die and leave R. R, just throw Richie at Ghostface and save Tara. He's expendable.

Hmm. Ghostface is bigger than Tara. That's not a miracle cause it applies to nearly everyone...

Okay, I hate Richie as much as the next person but "Mister Ghostface" made me cackle in the bus. That's so stupid but funny.

Hmm. Ghostface attacked the police. So maybe not Judy? But she is even more desperate to solve the murders for Wes so that's where the frustration can come from!

Tara 🥺

DAD SHUT UP. Of course Tara wants to see R. Blood or not. Ugh, men 🙄

Lol yes. Everyone against Richie. You go Dad!

Poor Sam. YOU GO SAM YES DRAG RICHIE THROUGH THE MUD. BADASS LADY

Unless she wasn't expecting it. Someone she knew. Who de we know that can break into a house and disarm an alarm. JUDY SHE IS A TRAINED SHERIFF. COME ON PEOPLE. (I hope in right cause I can't imagine/think of someone else...)

AS IF IT'S SAM. Nah ah. She would never hurt Tara. It's Mindy before it would EVER be Sam. No way in hell. (If it is Sam I will come for you btw)

Lol Mindy is prepared! Love that. (That you need a girlfriend line feels like a call out cause I also heavily thought about who Ghostface is... I just don't have a folder)

Nope. I take it back. Don't love it. Mindy is the horror buff but she fails to see the obvious connection of the victims being linked to R, so she accused Sam!?? Not in my watch! Obviously I don't want Tara to get caught but Sam IS NOT Ghostface! Focus people and figure it out. Ugh.

Oh right the police outside! Who can control the police? JUDY HICKS.

Yes Tara, please kill Richie. Pretty please 🙏

No Mindy you're not right and if you don't shut up I will punsh you.

Being in the hospital didn't work out that great for Tara in the movie...

How adorable is it that Tara got sliced and diced yet she still wants to protect R. Murderous tendencies aside, she really is the perfect girlfriend!

Phew what a chapter. Dragging Richie is my favorite past time activity.

Onto the suspects!

Richie clearly is not Ghostface. What a shame. Sam absolutely no way in hell. The Scooby Gang nah. As if they cared that much about Wes or anyone else to get revenge on Tara and R. That just leaves Judy! Who else could it be?? Someone strong and trained to take out an alarm system. Someone who knows about Tara and R. Wes probably told her. It's her.

🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼

I live for your reviews 😭 please never stop. Re suspects… everyone is a suspect

[storiesofsvu]

Happy thursday.

fair warning, if you care about svu spoilers at all, make sure you're staying FAR away from social media until you've watched it.

WOOF

spoilers under the cut for all three l&o's and not really for CME, but just some minor thoughts

Thursday Thursday… here we go!

As usual Ayanna looking like a fucking bomb snack in her suits

Ian doyle get your crusty ass face off my fucking tv. Like, im literally writing Emily fic as I’m watching organized crime, this is NOT THE TIME.

Okay, not surprised the snitch is already dead.

Ah… and we’re back to the sleazy casino manchild. Amazing.

The more we find out about jet, the more I love her.

Wait… bobby’s MARRIED??!? Did we know this already and I just forgot or is this new information? Or is the new info just that he’s married to a mob boss’s niece?

Okay also…the mob boss woman was in the once upon a time in el barrio svu ep.. that’s where I know her from…

LOL to Jamie little white kid freaking over the food and bigger LOL to them having a giant pile of containers to take with him…

Murphy’s accent keeps slipping in and out which is weird cause the actor is irish… then again, if he’s been living in the us for that long it probably does that anyways

The girl playing Rika has defs been on svu before… but im not complaining… she’s hot.

Yeah she was in s19.

Bobby’s such a lil cutie.

“I deserve a lot more than that. But you’re going to spend it on me. Dinner, maybe some jewels…”  “buy you a house if it means I get to come home to you.”  ….things to file away for future fic inspo….

Jet… omg.. I love you.

Okay… but like… jet was being flirted with by a KNOWN gangster ,one who clearly wanted more time with her, whether that is pure intention or not (cause out on the street he did seem a bit genuine, esp once murphy showed up) and like, yes I get that she’s a cop, but WHY would she be left to walk to her car alone late at night. Like, im not talking police escort, but at the very least a “security” from the club or a bartender or anything like… there are some bars that don’t let their service staff walk to their cars alone….

Okay, im actually invested in this arc…  weird.

Now we’re onto mothership. Will I pay attention or will I focus on the prentiss smut I’m working on? Only time will tell!!

Shouldn’t this be a special victims case?

Cops walking up to a suspect muttering “don’t run, don’t run, don’t run.” Will always be hilarious to me.

“these Zumba classes are not working…”  “…I did all the running.” LOOOL that is some quality partner banter. Love it.

I literally just said “where tf are this kid’s parents.”  Like… he’s under 18..

God this is one of those cases that just has curveball after curveball…

Wait… barba upped a case to reckless endangerment and rita’s response was “really, now we’re talking felonies?!” but now RE means no jail time?? Brb while I go google some shit. Okay… It looks like its first degree vs second degree. I’ll accept that.

Samantha maroun and rita Calhoun go on shopping sprees together and I will not accept notes on this. They’re both always so colourful.

I feel like this case would be a super hard one to take to trial… like that jury is gonna be deadlocked no matter what, it would so likely be a mistrial.

Damn these lawyers are fucking smart and know their shit. Good job.

Holy FUCK another curveball. Damn. This is old school writing. Bless.

 Okay, svu time. I don’t know if I’m prepared. (and not because I ship it…)

Still cant get over that Oscar papa is a fucking TWINK

Awwwee sonny… sweet sonshine. I fucking miss you. Wish you were around more often.

Wow… timing.. Seriously? We couldn’t even get sonny in the room?? He had to zoom in? wtf?!

This aint the first time a perp has threatened her son.. like.. she aint fucking around anymore

Also… the fact that they were *actually* going for noah is terrifying and makes it like, so much more worse?!

Fuck.. Velasco… ive missed you…

A phoebe mention!! Can we see her again pls?

Still haven’t decided if I like Bruno or not. Wouldn’t be mad if he joined the team cause lort knows they need a bigger squad. Also really liked that other Bronx detective

Okay.. note on the commercial break… they’re making ANOTHER magic mike??? Is channing tatum that desperate for money??

LOL the “let me call you amanda from now on” line followed by “alright well tell carisi I’ll be home late.” Omg. Fin. Best one liners.

“all you white boys look alike to me” LOL.

Bruno my man, why TF you carrying around that much cash?!?

Yes… THIS ONE! The black girl detective from the bronx. I want more of her.

HANDS! Joe.. jfc calm yourself

Churlish! Okay… imma try to remember that name

….im assuming we’re not getting any muncy in this ep

YEESSS VELASCO playing dirty fake UC (well… kinda…) this should not be as hot as it is…

OH MY GOD ARE WE ACTUALLY IN COURT?! IT’S A FUCKING MIRACLE.

Man… testifying/prosecuting/being on the jury in a gang related case like this, like, my anxiety would be through the fucking roof for the rest of my life…

Im over here still trying to figure out just how dirty joe was playing? Like, if he was gonna go that bad why do it in front of a cop he doesn’t know that well. Like yeah maybe he has a hook with mcgrath but im just wary of shit rn. He’s not that ballsy….

Okay, this isn’t the first time that liv has made threats like this, and it wont be the last.

Yeah.. still so confused about joe… like he *knows* what he’s doing…. Right? Like at first I lowkey thought it was the two of them playing good cop bad cop like liv & Elliot used to back in the day.

“that an invitation?” DUARTE WOW WAY TO BE FUCKING BOLD (would probs prefer that to eo tbh)

Theyre flirting your honour

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK??!!! ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME?!!? I legit wish you could see my face rn. WOW SVU WAY TO FUCKING GO DARK THERE IS ONLY 10 MINS LEFT OF THIS SHIT AND THAT INCLUDES COMMERCIALS WOOOWW

 Are you fucking with me???

Wow… okay.. noted… pray for anyone named Mike on SVU

(but is he actually dead..  or is this gonna be a witsec thing?)

I WAS JUST STARTING TO LIKE HIM DAMMIT

Oscar’s got mommy issues… that checks

Okay well they prosecuted him for murder so… duarte’s dead… wow..

Her new apartment is gorgeous

Did we really have to go all dutch tilt for this scene?

LOOOOOLLL omg that promo had y’all fucking freaking your shit out and it turned into nothing. God bless. So proud of liv for saying no, that she can’t. like, not only did unstabler bring it up at a time that she was probably hella vulnerable, feeling the relief that she/noah were finally safe, like that’s gonna have her releasing emotions she didn’t even realize she was feeling. And then on top of that, someone, a friend.. a flirtatious friend maybe? Coworker? The SECOND person she’d worked closely with named mike be murdered a moment after she left their side, holds herself responsible. Like that is NOT the time to try to fucking kiss her my man. That is the time to wrap her in a hug, tell her that things will eventually be okay and let her cry into your shoulder, a light kiss on the head at most. Jfc. Read the room.

circling back to duarte.. they SERIOUSLY couldn't bother paying molly for like a half day of work to be in the waiting room? he was her captain.. she would be there...

ANYWAYS.

Uh,… CME summary?

Episode was meh. Like literally meh. I have basically zero good or bad points about it. AJ’s kids are so grown up now. JJ looks hot af as usual, and gay af, like the reboot really said “okay, jj is also gonna be secretly gay, don’t tell will”. Sick of the will they wont they with will being sick/dying, lets not tease this shit anymore. Also sick of the wardrobe dept giving Prentiss the exact same shirt in like 4 diff colours to wear and that’s it. Also please let Emily say fuck again. Also JJ. And Tara. Let the women swear pls. it’s not fair Rossi got the first like.. three… let’s hope next week is better!

[reilliane]

hello everyone welcome to my (legit) professional book review for mercy- uk those ones that get printed at the backs of actual books lmao

im joking what the- ahem.. "sHUcK" is professional anyway this is just me being sad aggressive

okay so i know i alr screamed about it in dms and im typing this after you went poof but WHO HURT YOU HUH??? MOTHER DEAREST?!?!?!? mother angstiest lmao (its a word bc i say so)

im bout to grab you by your shoulders and swing you around with all my might

sleep with one eye open im going to smack you with a foot long baguette

I HAVENT BEEN TALKING HERE BCS THE ANGST GOT ME GRIPPIN MY HAIR, TEARING IT OUT N SHI AND I CANT SEND AN ASK WITHOUT IT BEING A 3K WORD ESSAY OF MY AGONY bUT IM BACK TO SCREAM AT YOU HERE SPECIFICALLY BCS HOLY HELL CHILL PLS IM CRYRINGG MY LUNSG OUT.

THE LAST LINE GOT ME 💫dead as hell💫

just like mc soon lolol that cage aint no playable healer character that you can conveniently drag around the world bcs of game mechanics lmao

(cage banner when? mc living copium)

i cant say that i didnt expect for ur angst to hurt this much bcs well- smite but even after almost 3 years im still not immune😔✊ its just that good bro

i dont read platonic much bcs i like a lil bit of hand holding before marriage more (how scandalous omg) but if its vigil and mercy mmm yes most definitely

100/10 would i read again? if i cared for my own sanity then no, but i dont geheheh.

should everyone who sees this read it? yes, suffer with the rest of us and fall down the rabbit hole

oneofusoneofusoneofus

now goodbye, for i shall go drown myself in the hurt/comfort tags muah

- mango?strawberry?cherry? which one was i again-..... fruit anown

ADAHDAHDKAJHZXZBXMZBCBSHDBS Why hello dear I did not expect a letter to arrive from you 😩 a pleasant surprise-

Now- wh0 HURT ME?? Life 😔✨

AHDJADHA- indeed, cage banner when? MC needs it the most, someone get the cage lol

AH- AH, now I can just envision Xiao hunting MC down with the cage in his hands omg gege no💀 BUT JOKES ASIDE I'M GLAD YOU LIKE IT, it means a lot if you're swinging by here 😳

But oho- hand holding before marriage? mMMMM YOU WILL LOVE ACCISMUS THEN.

it's a heizou fic, the one i babbled about, hehe- it has

WELL

it has some

spice

chu~ 🤭

IT'S SFW THOUGH. Just a bit of spice and everything nice 🥴😆😆

[piggynagi]

So was checking my followings coz i'm kinda surprised there's only one user that's all over my feed reblogging suju stuff. I found out that most of my followings are basically dead and their last updates were like 4-7 years ago lol i mean i aint surprised 🤣

Also, i've been lurking here few months at a time but i'm mostly on my private blog, writing about my frustrations and disappointments in my life lmao. I don't share my feelings most of the time with my friends and this is my way of blowing of steam per se, so i'm not exactly a twitter refugee, but maybe i am who knows. Twitter's been fun while it lasted.

Idk if there's anyone curious but, yeah. Super Junior's ELF since 2012. Kyuhyun stan, unless Hyukjae decides to wreck my bias list. Kyuhae shipper, but jumps ships most of the time. Bottom!kyu enthusiast. I try to write kyuhae fics on AO3 sometimes.

Anyways, ciao~. I'm going back to my bullshit

[jkflesh]

The Bug releases “Absent Riddim”

Featuring guest vocals from Justin K Broadrick.

Download: https://pressurerecords.bandcamp.com/album/absent-riddim-2

Nazamba - Satan

Justin K Broadrick - Shamed

Jonnine HTRK - Puppy

Logan - Judgement Time

Dälek - Fractured

Fatboi Sharif - Atomic Canine Training

Roger Robinson - Please, please

YL Hooi - Oceans

Relly - Resistance

Mark Stewart - King of the Cage

Jaimie Branch - Your Laws Aint Free

Nosaj - Whats That Sound ?

Dis Fig - Too High

Ethan Lee McCarthy- Is Death A Dream ?

Nicholas Bullen - Dead

Moor Mother - Fuck With Me

Absent Riddim Version

To my knowledge, 'Absent Riddim', is the first, non reggae/dancehall, one riddim album to be released ever, full stop. 17 versions of the same beat, mutated, modified and sometimes mutilated to suit each guest i invited, to jump this heavyweight rhythm. So if you arent feelin the beat, you may as well jump off from the get go.. And trust, this album is an absolute tribute to the dancehall one riddim albums that endlessly emerge from Jamaica, and in fact hooked me since the mid 90's, as a black wax addict. And this collection purposely contains sixteen different vocalists/Mcs from different musical worlds to see just how extreme the contrasts could be. I always love hearin' how incredible Jamaican mcs individually approach the same riddim completely differently, and how that would keep the beat fresh and maximise the element of surprise...Always seemed a great way of reinventing a rhythm and satisfying my own musical greed and insatiable appetite for next level vocals. Ironically the 'Absent Riddim' emerged as a rejected remix of a track by a metal band called Absent in Body, for basically not being heavy enough..Lol(Though they subsequently changed their mind after the fact, so i ended up writing an even more deadly beat for them thereafter..!)... But the bare bones of my musical contributions to the Absent Riddim had stuck with me indelibly, that i felt the need to rewrite it and welcome vocals on to its wilfully slow, slithering, dub chassis, and i recently dropped the version as the opener at all my recent Bug shows. When i approached this sick crew of vocalists herein, i emphasised the intention to bypass all the bs factory delays, industry lead up times and passion killing interruptions that have recently resulted in tediously long periods of frustration, waiting to finally drop new releases. I asked/hustled them to move fast so we could release as instantly as possible. And its with LARGE thx to these excellent artists for rising to the challenge to work fast and become honorary members of the bug fam. Much appreciated, really... Also very importantly, a big shout to my long time collaborator, Siomon Fowler, who provided such great artwork, at such short notice. A highly valued friend and ridiculously talented visual artist. Merci This album is also dedicated to the memories of Nazamba/Jaimie Branch who both appear within, and who both tragically passed away during the making of this album, and who i miss dearly. Rest in peace.

[keanureevesisbae]

i googled 'james murphy' and i was surprised at your choice and then realized it wasn't him 🤡

my first crush was prince caspian from narnia bc he was just sweet in that movie and in real life it was a boy from my school who ended up hating me lmao. one day, if i'm drunk enough, i'll tell you that story.

dear friend, if you don't want to answer this question that's fine! <3 but, i wanted to know if there is a specific reason why your parents chose your name? ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

HAHAHA James Murphy was a book character (i googled him too and NOPE THAT AINT IT FOR ME)

Also, when are you drunk enough? I kinda need that story lol hehe

I actually don't really know how my parents came up with my name. I guess they were just searching for something that fit me. My mom was dead set on passing on her second name to me and because my parents already had my brother, i was forced to have the same last name as him, so my first name had to fit both of those names. I'm really thankful for my name, because while it's a name everyone knows, no one seems to know someone who's named like that, so that makes it special! What about you?

(omg the picture is the cutest thing ever)

[ramu-ego]

AHHH JEEZ A 2 DAYS LATE REPLY MY BAD, i def wouldve responded sooner but i suddenly got busy, missed camping in this little blog here 💔😭 (yes 2 days is a lot in my book LMAO)

when i saw sir nighteye, i looked at ego and i was like. Yea. Yea that’s a type alright LMFAOO.. IVE MEVER SEEN THE REST EXCEPT DAZAI BUT MAYBE THATS SIGN FOR ME TO OPEN MY TASTES A BIT MORE..

100% agree on the ego paragraph!!..!.!?! EVEN IF I WASNT THE BIGGEST FAN ITS SOO OBVS HE CARES.. one day imma see an ego appreciation paragraph analysis explaining every single detail abt what he did and i wouldnt be surprised if that post is from you LMFAO

god i’ve never heard nikko’s eng voice but i’m def not looking forward to it — i read the nikko post though, GOODD LOORDDD may of changed my perspective of nikko on ruining him but still, gotta stay loyal to my favs (a lie, i’m a whore and would jump around but niko just aint it for me LMFAO)

god yea, my timezones been like .. the direct opposite of most people so i wasn’t surprised to see ours be different, JUST CRAZY HOW KUCH OF A DIFFERENCE IT ACTUALLY WAS .. fuckk guess we can twin in being last to almost everything then huh? the only win i get is just having an asian timezone to be early to actual content LMFAO

i respect liking dubs!!!! i used to watch dubs for like, romance anime? toradora and shit when i was WAYYY younger!! HONESTLY I SEARCHED UP ALL UR RECS AND III THINKKK i may start with mob psycho first since it peaks my interests the most! but i’ll def check fire force since it’s one of ur favs, i’ll tell you what i think abt it when i actually DO start it (chronic procrastinator, i even procrastinated writing this message despite how much i wanted to chat LOL)

I HAVE REALLY BAD MEMORY SO IVE GOT NO IDEA WHICH GUY I WAS REFERRING TO.. curly hair??? black hair??? looked kinda dead inside??? I THINK IT MIGHTVE BEEN W GAGAMARU AND RAICHI.. his hair looked kinda like it hadn’t been washed in weeks ngl

IM HAPPY TO READ YOUR RESPONSES HONESTLY, SUPEPRRR FUN and it feels like im having a genuine one on one convo even if we are like — replying to it like letters or sum LMFAO, guess we going back to the past era for this! BEINNG A HAIRDRESSER FOR 5 YEARS IS SOO COOL?? you’re only 25 now so like — did you pick this job up early on??

i’ve never watched haikyuu but i could see a lot of people felt differently abt blue lock compared to haikyuu, blue lock kinda increases that competitive spirit that’s rare to find in that. team work stuff?

since i felt as if my replies were kinda ass this time, i got news! just watched blue lock episode 11 and good fucking lord this shit was good — yea i was worried about bad animation but shit POPPED OFF.. and rin itoshi :?/!.?.!?! i screamed creamed probably was thinkign with only my metaphorical dick from that point on because good lord i want this man HELP.. it’s been like a year or two(?) since i first saw rin itoshi in the manga but good lord when i saw him animated and even spoke, i felt sum ROARING DOWN THERE … (excuse my language i only think with my lower region!) this awakened sum in mme.. don’t be surprised once i start sending genuine requests and thirsts

since i even joked about this being like a literal letter, maybe i should start signing off like one!!!

from 💌 anon or something LMFAO

NO NO TWO DAYS IS NOTHING I CAN BE AWFUL AT RESPONDING-

-I am so bad at like focusing to respond so trust me no apology needed bc I'm chronically bad at looking at a message and then giving myself anxiety over it. It's something I'm working on 😂😭

Dazai is mildly the odd man out except for the dude with black 'n white hair they're kinda con losers together but I'd say the over arching theme is "they look like they bite...but not really" I have no sense of danger I want the weird looking men no one wants 😂 but no seriously all the fandoms they're from are really good highly recommend Dr Stone and Fire Force if you enjoy Blue Lock. They are *chefs kiss*

do you know how hard it is to keep my twitching fingers on my keyboard to not rant about Ego??? I could do it I could go on and on about this man but- asdfghjkl- I'm controlling myself! mostly bc i don't wanna share my weird husband shhh that's not the point shhh he's my ugly little greenbean

i blame my friend on the niko bullshit!! she went on about how perfectly he'd fit that pervy hentai protagonist who like- steals panties- and cries when he gets caught and all that bullshit?? now I can't unsee it?? he's so stealing panties and putting under his pillow to sleep with only to make up a loud sob story when he gets caught. He's a perv and now I can't unsee it and I hate it 😩

really you have the problem of conflicting timezones?? I'm genuinely surprised bc like- everyone I talk to is like bare minimum in Europe and further over as I sit my lonely self in the United States. Count your blessings bc at least you don't live in the States we're awful 😂 we can be opposite timezone buddies like long drawn out lovers from two forlorn families writing drawn out poetic letters to each other to be sent by snail mail as we try to survive the black plague! or you know...something like pen pals 😂

my peanut brain suffers with subbed I can't look at the animation and take in what they're saying T^T I did it with Jujutsu Kaisen when it came out and can honestly say I don't recall anything I watched bc I was reading subs. RIP this is why I have to read the mangas </3 Oh but Mob is so good!!! It's one of my favorites and my comfort animes I can't tell you how many times I've watched it?? I think like- seven times? Eight times? Easing your way into the list makes Mob Psycho a good starter. But no seriously I cannot stress it enough how much I love Fire Force. Plus cursed knowledge, English dubbed Ego is Fire Forces main character and he is a cinnamon roll of a good boy and a total 180 of Ego's character 😂 Equal parts blessed and cursed when you hear Ego being a good boy

a lot of them look dead inside but dying so hard at gagamaru being put in the dead eye category?? my wife is in love with him so now I'm dying over the dead eye thing 😂 tbh they're so many characters I still have to look back and know who's who

you will find out I can't keep my mouth shut so if you get me talking I will put in that much effort 😂 But actually sweet I'm not 25 I'm 27 (had to double check with my wife I lost track) So the five years of hairdressing isn't too out there but I did pick it up after two yrs of college when I dropped out bc US education system suuuucks. Love hair but covid made people entitled shitheads and didn't want to spend nine hours a day with jackasses to come home to a baby so I just swapped entitled costumers to an entitled baby XD

haikyuu is...cute. like- ok i dont really do slice of life animes and heavily dont do sports anime (haikyuu and blue lock are literally the only ones) but Haikyuu is definitely not the same as Blue Lock. They spend a lot of time explaining how the game works where as Blue Lock its kinda "you know how soccer works or sucks to be you" which I like bc the one thing I do get tired with haikyuu is the over explanation of things. It's a cute show though! I could only watch it once thru but its fun when you haven't watched it before

UGH IM SO WORRIED OVER WHO IS GONNA PLAY RIN I'VE BEEN CHEWING MY NAILS OVER IT- Their casting director has been so good so?? Like?? I know it'll be good but at the same time?? I'm still so worried?? I mean- They convinced me to love Ego even after knowing who his VA was (and what I watched him previously in was NOT anything like his Ego role) but still- Rin's my baby?? Rin's my little bratty temper tantrum baby i wanna smoosh?? He has to be perfect?? More so than anyone else?? Pleading with the casting gods Rin sounds good or I will sob 😭 And I'm like- Have no idea are they doing 12 episode season or a 24 episode season. I need answers T^T

pls send me Rin thirsts I can't shut the fuck up about him

[self-loathing-angel-of-thursday2]

Beautiful Spouse’s Rewatch Thoughts SPN 01x20

Dead Man’s Blood

“They said Dad 10 fkn times in the intro. Somebody has serious daddy issues” “terrible fkn joke” “she wants the bottle. I see how it is.” “what does a bar charge for the whole bottle anyway?”

Does it matter when you’re a vampire? “I think it’s funny for all the paranoid prepper types it that they have like 18 fkn locks and then they die trying to get into their own house.”

“They want your flesh” “He knows how to throw a knife and he didn’t have a wooden stake around?” “This is the stupid gun shit isn’t it? Goddammit.” “haha” idk how one human is going to feed that many vampires

“Is that wrapping paper on the table? For the set dress?” “Who is MCG? They’re an execute producer.” Joseph McGinty Nichol is an American director, producer, and former record producer.

“That’s the weirdest fkn intro ever” “yeah” said a really gruff whisper

You have a falling out with everyone, John. “I was going to say something similar”

“Its so urgent! We don’t have any time to talk!”

“Because it’s important” said in a gruff voice “it’s a need-to-know basis” “I’m kinda sick of all these vampires. Why can’t we hunt down Nadja from WWDITs but not kill her. Dean would be a good familiar.” FUCK JOHN WINCHESTER

“Hey! Need-to-know!”

“Drug blood” lol Jenny the vampire kills Dean Winchester

“He likes the shaft” Spouse started heavy breathing to imitate John

“Just punch John in the fkn face”

Lol Jensen looks so little between JarPad and JDM when they’re all above 6ft “They made it look like they were fucking on a pile of money”

🎶fucking on a pile of money. Aint got a care in the world🎶

“They can be out in the sun? Or is it not direct sunlight?” “inadequacy problems much?” “now you wanna talk? Fkn right now while you’ve got your hands all over that phallic object?” “So what there’s 7 bullets left or something?” 🎶unless he opens up a gate to hell and fucks the whole world yeah yeah yeah🎶

“There’s a vertical line in that shot, and it’s really distracting” We had to make sure it wasn’t on the TV “Maybe it was a bad sensor? Are these digital sensors? Probably digital at this point.” “and I spent it. Where is the actor from? Seattle? I wouldn’t have guessed that” “So what do they do with the blood? Coat the bullets in it?” “Why don’t they decapitate both of them right there? Ok. They did the one guy. Maybe they did all of them. Idk” “Can’t you just use more dead man’s blood?” “way to stare at Sam in the face and not say no” he’s a bad son of a bitch

“That’s an order” “he’s going to supersize that order” “how would he know? Didn’t they mask her scent?” “Maybe it’s just how they coached him for the show but the way John and Sam talk in this show just aren’t realistic. This manly whispering is weird. I’ve never met anyone who talks like that IRL, and if I ever do, I don’t think I’ll ever take them seriously” Told Spouse that John Wayne and other actors would talk like that in cowboy movies with the manly whisper twang thing. 

“John just came in his pants when the vampire died. The look he gave when the guy died was really gross. He’s even smiling. That’s the I came in my pants face” “I’m surprised that John shot a test bullet. I don’t think the college fund is enough to buy more of those kinds of bullets” “God, you’re dumb as fuck, John. So he says that but how many times do they split up?”

[legovasavouchi]

hey dudes its gonna be pretty quiet around here for a bit, my laptop is on its last legs and can no longer connect to the internet, so i’m gonna have to buy a new one....

[capsized-heart]

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. 

[venomous-ko]

Wine Drunk while watching Godzilla vs Kong

Some major spoilers up ahead!

Mans really just annoyed the shit out of his coworker until he left so he could hack shit, huh?...I love it! 🤣🤣

——————————————

You mean to tell me that the explanation for why Godzilla attacked the one tech company site by the dude who studied Kaiju communication and behavior for a living is just, “sometimes people (and creatures) change”???? Like some dumbass justifying a toxic person/relationship??? Like excuse me???? Why are the literal teenagers making more sense than you?????

Also, we’re all in agreement that this facility is either housing Ghidora’s dead head, Mecha Godzilla, or Mecha Ghidora, right?!?

——————————————

Lol! “Apex Cybernetics!” That’s not foreshadowing! 🤣

——————————————

Apparently, I didn’t get my fill of white nonsense from Falcon and Winter Soldier, bc someone decided to put this blonde-hair-blue-eyed little bitch in charge! That’s not ganna go wrong somehow. 🙃😑👀

Like this bitch literally wanted to send a fucking child into unexplored hollow earth territory without a second thought! 🙃🙃🙃🙃 I was literally like 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕 for that entire convo.

——————————————

I’m sorry! This conspiracy man just met these teenagers, and his first impulse was, “yeah, theses seem like some good people to break into a tech conglomerate with!” 🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

Why are these people surprised Kong knows sign language? These are people who study Kaiju (and presumably other animals in order to draw conclusions about certain behaviors) for a fucking living!!! We have primate species that recognize and communicate in sign language already! Why is this surprising???!?! Like...has NO ONE except this precious child tried this????

Also, nothing bad better happen to this child.

——————————————

That ship literally fucked around, and Godzilla let it find out! Lmao!

——————————————

Kong: Hey, Godzilla...look at me...

Godzilla: >:[

Kong: ...bitch.

——————————————

Precious girl: Thank you, friend 🧏🏽‍♀️

Kong: ☺️😴

THIS GIRL IS TOO PRECIOUS!!!!

——————————————

Bitch-ass White Man: How’s Kong with heights?

BITCH, you really ganna try that?!?! You really think you ganna find any aircraft(s) that are ganna be able to support all that weight?? Never mind any other problems with Kong trying to nope the fuck out of that situation and all kind of other hosts of problems!

And if you do somehow have one (or multiple) WHY TF DIDN’T YOU USE THAT BEFORE KNOWING FULL AND WELL YOU RAN THE RISK OF GODZILLA MERCING KONG’S ASS IF YOU TRAVELED VIA SHIP!?!?!?!

——————————————

Down the Hell Naw tunnel we go!

——————————————

“I think it’s romantic,”

I fucking love Millie Bobbie Brown’s character!! 🤣❤️🤣

——————————————

WHY IS THIS TEENAGER SMARTER THAN EVERYBODY OMG!!!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“This is page one in the ‘Playing God’ handbook, right?”

I’ve decided I love this character! 🤣

——————————————

WHY YOU GETTING INSIDE THAT THING—Oh god! 😨 Why y’all got eggs!?!? This is like if Weyland-Yutani succeeded in getting Xenomorphs! 😬

——————————————

Oop! Locked in! THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T HIDE OUT IN MYSTERIOUS ROOMS!!!!

——————————————

Oh shit! Apex Cybernetics think they on that Wakanda shit now!

Also, why was that one Apex Cybernetics bitch bitching about how one of those HEAV crafts could power Vagas for a week if y’all clearly have a whole network or transportation using this tech!

And I never understood how tech companies kept that shit to world domination shit! Build a public transportation system with that shit! Boss man said he likes ideas that make him rich! Pretty sure that would do the trick!

——————————————

WINE BREAK!!!

Saving the rest of the last bottle for coking Gumbo, so gotta open up a new bottle

——————————————

Aw, Kong is so sick of this bullshit! 😂😭

——————————————

“It’s not working”

Bruh! Give it more that two seconds!

——————————————

HOW DARE Y’ALL USE KONG’S LOSS AGAINST HIM!!!! HOW DARE Y’ALL!!!

——————————————

HEAV go Brrrrrrr Shoooooooooooom!!!!

——————————————

LMAO!!! Monarch has their own brand of bottled water!?!?! Idk why that amuses me so much!

——————————————

This hallow earth portal thing is some Pacific Rim bullshit right here, lol!

——————————————

NYOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM

——————————————

Are we...are we really Ice Age: Dawn of Dinosaur-ing this shit rn??? 😂😂😂

——————————————

“It’s beautiful,”

Of course it’s beautiful! No hoomins have touched it! Lol

——————————————

Y’ALL GOT FUCKIN DRAGONS IN THIS BITCH!?!?!?!!! 8D YO!!! SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!!

——————————————

*marvels at the creature creation ideas*

——————————————

Kong’s first thought: *nom the dragon guts*

——————————————

THE ROCK HAND OMG IM GANNA CRY!!! 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 It’s the same gesture the Precious Girl did OMG!!!!

——————————————

“We going in?”

“Yeah”

The BALLS on this child!

——————————————

“AAAAHH 😐”

*fear*

LMAO!!!!! I’M FUCKIN WHEEZING!!!

——————————————

“Sacrifice Pit”

OMG 🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

I KNEW IT!!!! MECHA-GODZILLA MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! 8DDDDD

——————————————

YO PACIFIC RIM RAN SO MECHA-GODZILLA COULD FUCKIN SPRINT!!!!!!!!

——————————————

YO IT’S A GOOD THING I AIN’T SEEING THIS IN THEATERS BC I’D BE FLIPPING MY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Humanity, once again, will be the apex species,”

THERE it is!

——————————————

Why Mecha-Godzilla so skeeny?!? He need ta be thicc if he ganna take down REAL Godzilla!

——————————————

*Ryan Bergera conspiracy voice* Is this the real reason Kong was contained!? So this douche could snatch up Skull Crawlers without Kong intervention???

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! I think this thing is emitting alpha waves (or whatever we’re calling it) and THAT’s what set Godzilla off!!! He fought Ghidorah, heard this shit and went, “Nu-uh, bitch! NOT AGAIN!!!”

——————————————

Monarch dude: Yo, Godzilla’s headed to Hong Kong for some reason?

FUCKIN CALLED IT!!!

——————————————

This look like the door to fuckin General Grievous’s lair,da fuq?!? 🤣🤣🤣

 ——————————————

I got waaay too emotional over that handprint, y’all! 😭😭😭

——————————————

Y’all, the fucking art history major in me is fuckin screaming at this temple scene! The fact that some of these Kaiju not only had the urge and drive and capacity to build a fucking temple around this power source or some shit and create weapons like the axe that Kong just fucking Excalibured the shit out of that one skull crawler’s skull fucking implies the fact that there is intelligent civilization amongst these fucking Kaiju and all that shit! I want to know more about this shit! Take that you fucking racist-ass white historian motherfuckers!

(Note: I definitely needed to use talk to text for much of this bit, because there was no way I was going to be able to contain all my excitement in just typing, alone, lmao)

——————————————

BRUH!!! Why y’all exiting g the HEAV without no breathing apparatus or lead suits or nothing!?!?! In previous movies, y’all implied that these Kaiju lived in environments in which their environments were hella radioactive compared to our own!!!

——————————————

Kong is s the true heir to the iron throne, Lmao!

——————————————

FUCKING CALLED IT!!!! THEY HAD GHIDORA’S REMAINS IN THERE SOMEWHERE!!!!

——————————————

OH FUCK!!!! Y’ALL AINT JUST SENDING OUT ALPHA VIBES WITH YOUR MECHA-GODZILLA!!!! YOU SOMEHOW USING GHIDORA’S HIVE MIND OR TELEPATHY SHIT TO DO IT!?!?!?! AAAWWWWW SHEEEEEET!!! Y’ALL ARE BONED NOW!!!! FUCKIN BONEROWNED!!!!

——————————————

Godzilla! My bruh! My dude! You didn’t HAVE TO get up right where that bridge was!!! 😂😂 Ya douche bag!!!

——————————————

At the same time, tho, I can just hear him going, “Ah! FUCK! NOT AGAIN!!! Sunova bitch!! Motherfuckin!! STOP BUILDING sHIT SO DAMN HIGH!!! Goddammit!”

——————————————

You know, with all the Bright twinkly lights in Hong Kong, I can’t help but think of the sequel to the original Gojira movie ( that I can’t remember the title of ,rn) where he was fucking triggered by fucking lights. And I wonder if this little scene where he’s stomping all through Hong Kong is a tribute to that or whatever. But I’m probably overthinking it.

[Sober Edit: it was Godzilla Raids Again]

——————————————

*GASP* HOLY SIHIIIT!!! The axe is made out of Godzilla skute!?!?! GOLY BALLS THAT’S NOT ONLY COOL BUT CONTRIBUTES MORE TO THE FACT THAT THESE KAIJU (likely Kong’s species, in particular) WERE REALLY FUCKING INTELLIGENT AMD TJOUGHT, “Imma beat this muthafucka with their own spiky thing! Bc that’s what screws us over, so, why WOULD’nt it hurt them!?!” I need SO MUCH MORE of this Kaiju/Kong culture studied and shit! HOLY FUCK!!!

It even fucking glows!! Like ... they managed to fucking piece together that its glow was a fucking warning sign like Sting or some shit!!!! Holy fuck!!!!

Also, how does that work? How are the skutes still connected even after dismemberment???

 ——————————————

NO FUCKIN WAY WRE YOU—AAAAAAAAHHH!!! Excalibur that shit my boi!!!!

——————————————

I FUCKIN LOVE YHIS MOVIE HOLY SHIT!!!

——————————————

“ that’s Apex property now,”

Excuse me bitch! Are we really not gonna listen to the scientist who saying “hey we don’t understand the shit out of this fucking power! Maybe we should hold off on taking some fucking samples!”

Are we really just gonna ignore that shit???????

 ——————————————

Kong said: TRY ME BITCH!!!!

——————————————

Oh thank the GODS this Serizawa dude is taking precautions like his old man! Also, what is his relation to Ken Watanabe’s Serizawa!?!?!

——————————————

UH OH!! SOLDIER DUDES GETTIN ATE!!!

——————————————

OH SHIT!!! PILOT JUST GOT ATE!!! FUCKIN DRAGON BASEMENT UP IN THIS SHIT!!!

——————————————

BITCH YOU REALLY GON THROW A ROCK AT IT!!! FUCKIN NONSENSE OF THIS BITCH!!!

——————————————

LOVE AND FITE ME ENERGY IS STORED IN THE ATOMIC BREATH

——————————————

“Shoot him!”

WHY!!!???!! He literally had NO problem with you before then!!!

——————————————

Why does white man who don’t know anything about this vehicle suddenly know how to pilot this shit!???!?!!!!!

 ——————————————

Y’all love had SO MUCH wine!

——————————————

The FUCK this dude got a flip flop phone for!!!?!????!!!?

Da fuq!?!?! 🤣🤣🤣🤣 yeah that’s the most unrealistic part of this entire fucking movie! Not the fuckin Kaiju robots. Not the fucking hollow earth bullshit! The fucking flip phone! LMFAO!!!!

——————————————

“Maintenance! I’M MAINTENANCE!!! This bitch ain’t buying it”

That made me laugh WAY FUCKIN harder that it should have!!!!

——————————————

Y’all really ganna try to shoot at a kid!?! REALLY!?!?!??!

——————————————

GAWD, I’m so glad I impulse bought these oatmeal bites from Dominos! 🤤😋

[Sober Edit: I have no idea how my autocorrect managed to convert “Parmesan” to “oatmeal,” but okay! 😆😅]

——————————————

Kong be like, “Hey, bitch!!! You lookin’ for me!?!?”

——————————————

Find you a partner that bites your neck like Godzilla does! Lmao!

Sorry, I’ll be crawling back into my hell hole, now.

——————————————

EAT YOUR FOOKIN VEGETABLES GODZILLA!!!!!

——————————————

Did Godzilla just axe throw with his fuckin teefs!!!????!?!?!

——————————————

THIS IS THE FOOKIN MONSTER VS MONSTER FIGHTS IVE BEEN CRAVING SINCE KING OF THE MONSTERS HOLY SHIT!!!!

——————————————

“Really? Groupies, again?”

First of all, again!?! What happened last time???

Secondly, where tf are YOUR grpupies, asshole! No need to judge! Ya cunt!

——————————————

“There can only be one alpha,”

Really! You really gotta bring your toxic masculinity into a fuckin monster fight, my dude!?!

——————————————

Kong said, “Yeet! YEET SELF!!!”

——————————————

I am living for the feral fight scenes!!!!

——————————————

Kong’s expression , tho! 🤣🤣🤣

Like, “Can you ducking NOT, Godzilla?!? Can you, like, fucking chill??!!? Aight, fine! ASDASHKLSDJKLDZJL ADKLKDZDJ!!!!!!”

——————————————

Awwwww! Godzilla let Kong go, bc he knows what it’s like to be the last of his species! 🥺🥺🥺🥺😭😭😭😭

——————————————

“This is how we [...] win!”

Oh, honey, you ‘bout to die! Lmao! 😂

——————————————

Oh god! I knew he was going to use the sign for “coward” at the most inappropriate time! Lmao! At least the Precious Girls is smart enough to know what Dumbass White Man means, lol

——————————————

Oh, thank god we do t see this dumbass in any sequels!

——————————————

Dammit, he escaped!

——————————————

This girl is too good!

——————————————

Did y’all really think you were ganna break into a semi-sentient Mecha-Godzilla by GUESSING ITS FUCKING PASSWORD!!?!?!?!!!!???? 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

YEAH!!!! TEAM-UP COMING THROUGH!!!!!

——————————————

“I was hoping to die with adults, but that’s okay,”

🤣🤣🤣

——————————————

“I’VE GOT TO DIE WITB YOU AND SOBER!!?!?!”

GOD, I love this movie!!!!

——————————————

OOOOOOHHHH HOLY SHIT!!!!! 😱😱😱😱😱 He powering up the axe!!!!!

——————————————

YOOOOOO KONG WENT PREDATOR/YOUTJA ON MECHA-GODZILLA’s ASS!!!!

——————————————

Kong said, “I’m done, y’all! Imma take a nap!”

——————————————

“Dad. Uh...Bernie.”

I fucking love Bernie!!! 😂😂😂😂

——————————————

JIA NOOOO!!! Don’t go running between two disgruntled Kaiju bby!!

——————————————

Yo, why do monsters have less toxic masculinity than we do??? Lol!

——————————————

Yaaaaaay! Kong has a new home!!

——————————————

WELP!!! I fucking loved this movie, and I highly recommend it to everyone!!!

[armysantiny]

NCT Dream: Their s/o is passionate about working out

Pairing: ot7 x gender neutral reader // NCT (Dream)

Genre: fluff, humour, headcanon

Includes: going to the gym, teasing, watching a drama, workout schedules, bribing with coffee, exhaustion, 

Word count: 1.59k

Warning: I swear like, once or twice lol, Chenle’s one talks about dieting for a moment

Rating: PG

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @kpopscape, @ultkpopnetwork, @kpopcontentcreatorsclub, @k-dinernet, @lovesick-net, @whipped-kpop-creators, @kafenetwork, @ficscafe, @dreamwritersnet, @neoswitchnet, @nct-writers

Tagging: @teeztheflag, @the-rooftop-fight, @cherry-hyejin || Taglist Form

An: I had fun writing this lol. I would pay good money to watch this happen irl- members under the cut! Oh yeah - @alicanta77​ more Jeno!

마크 (Mark)

Something about Mark tells me that he’d be kinda chill about it? You know?

As long as you’re enjoying it, he’s happy

And you’re getting healthier for yourself, so nice!

Flirty (or attempts at flirting lol) comments whenever you come out of the shower

And then you suggest going to the gym together

Not that he doesn’t want to

But he’s seen your workout routine

Safe to say this boy is intimidated

“Wait, wait, wait - go with you?”

Mark doesn’t mind working out

In fact, it’s quite relaxing

But he knows you’re very strict with your sets

He will be sore in the morning if he tried to keep up with you

Tries to bribe you with coffee-

Doesn’t work and you (lightly) drag his arse to the gym

Safe to say he is tired when you two get back

You get out of the shower and you can see this guy knocked the fuck out on the sofa

Let the teasing begin~

Poking at his chest and giggling when he pulls you into his chest

“Markie~ you’re not tired already, are you?”

Doesn’t reply, but sleepily smiles and ruffles your hair

Soft :(

런쥔 (Renjun)

Oh God, this is going to be fun

Renjun doesn’t really go to the gym unless he has to, or really wants to

So he doesn’t mind that you enjoy going to the gym

Bettering yourself, good for you, you know?

But dear God when you mention that you want him to join you

Yeah...good luck with that one

Will come up with every excuse under the sun

This mf really tries pulling the ‘I’m a foreigner, I don’t know Korean that well’ card on you

Like he doesn’t know how to speak Korean- (probably better than you too lol smh)

You kinda just deadpan him and he drags himself to get ready

Whining! Every! Single! Second

From start to finish I swear, Renjun complains constantly omg

When you two get home, the sigh of relief he lets out is loud

“Come on Junnie~ it wasn’t that bad!”

“Babe, I am going to die - how will you make this up to me?”

You come out of the shower after he’s already done and find him pretending to be asleep

“Well, if you’re asleep, I guess I’ll watch the new episode on my own”

Gets up immediately

No way you’re watching it without him

“Oh? I thought you were dying? Looks like you’re fine now~” 

Rolls his eyes but he’s smiling

Hugs you and you two catch up on your drama

Cute :(

제노 (Jeno

Considering Jeno seems like the kinda guy to really enjoy working out, I think he’d really like that about you

Like, you’re his gym partner and his romantic partner, what’s there not to love?

That’s probably how you two met each other-

Loves comparing your workout schedules

This time though, Nono wanted to give your workout routine a go

“Are you sure baby?”

Not that you didn’t think he could do it, you just didn’t want him to be too sore to practice the next day

But he’s stubborn lol, and you just oblige

It’s honestly so cute

You’re not even halfway done and he’s already starting to have second thoughts

Thing is, you made it seem easier than it actually was 

Obviously you’re feeling a burn from working out, but Jeno is struggling

Takes multiple breaks before you’ve had your first break

You get home and Jeno is already feeling the effects

Laughs when you tease him about it

“How...how do you make it look so easy?”

“Practice~”

Denies that he’ll be sore in the morning and you just shake your head

You wake up in the morning and dear God he can’t move

“Don’t say it...”

“Say what? That I told you so? Okay, I won’t~”

동혁 (Donghyuck)

Oh Imma enjoy this one

As much as Hyuck loves that you enjoy working to better yourself

Do not get that man anywhere within 10ft of a gym

Literally only goes to work out when he has a schedule

Otherwise, you’ll never see him suggest going

So to who or whatever possessed him to jokingly suggest that he should join you in the gym

This guy has some choice words - possibly some swearing involved, who knows?

His dramatic ass will literally put on some over-the-top denial when he sees the smile on your face

Hyuck knows that smile

“Come on hyuck, it won’t be that bad!”

“Oh but it will. Y/n, do you want to kill your boyfriend?”

“Oh stop whining you~, you only have to do it just this once~”

You have to bribe him with his favourite food before he even considers going

And even then, it takes him forever to get ready and go

You’re already on your way and he still tries to weasel his way out of it

Because holy shit your workout is intense

Is dying 

Remember when fullsun here had to carry Jeno and he screamed because Jeno was taking the piss out of him?

Yeah - he does that

This mf really tries asking you to carry him when you get home

You do it anyway-

When you carry him bridal-style, he wraps his arms around your neck and ‘swoons’

“My knight in shining armour~”

Cue rolling your eyes at him, but smiling because you love this man too much to be annoyed

Gosh he’s a brat child sometimes but you love him

재민 (Jaemin)

Heyy, 1/2 of my Dream biases, let’s go!

We’ve all seen Jaemin reveal his abs right?

This man is fit-

So obviously, he does work out a fair bit

If not with you, then definitely with Nono

But let’s be real-

Jaemin is literally the least competitive person ever - if not just for NCT

Cannot and will not compete for anything even if his life depended on it

So when you ask him if he wants to join you on a workout session while you’re about to sleep and he agrees-

You’re surprised

Then again, he’s just so tired (poor bby) that he’s barely registering what you’re saying

Until you remind him the following day

Sighs as he drinks his first of many coffees he’ll have

He wants to try and weasel out of it

But you’re giving him puppy eyes and oh gosh you’re adorable oh noo

He can’t say no :(

When ou two start, oh good lord his respect for your dedication increases tenfold

You do this five times a week?

His body hurts in ways he didn’t know he could hurt

Hits you with his ‘sexy~’ when you get out of the shower

Pretends to take pictures of you

“There we go! My star model show me those angles!”

Laughing fits

Even if you’re both sore (Jaemin more so), y’all are so cute

Gimme this please

천러 (Chenle)

Okay Daegal’s dad you’re up next!

I feel like Chenle really encourages you to keep up with your workout schedule

Probably helps with the dietary requirements that come along with it

Supportive boyfriend over here

We live to see it

Enough getting sidetracked, let’s continue

You’d be sitting together for breakfast and its workout day

This man’s curiosity gets the better of him and he asks if he could join you

He’s always been interested in exactly what exercises you do to stay is such great shape

When you go into detail, Lele kinda sits there wide-eyed for a moment

Granted, he works out too to stay healthy but damn your workout is intense

No wonder your body is as muscular/toned as it is

Be he would be lying to himself and you if he said that it didn’t intimidate him

You could probably throw him with little effort-

When you two do get to the gym, oh dear God is Chenle already exhausted

How do you manage to keep up with it?

Scratch that - exhausted doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels

You get home and Chenle is just...dead

Takes a shower and refuses to move once he gets in bed

Prepare to drag his ass out of bed the next day - he aint going anywhere

지성 (Jisung)

This is going to be interesting! Also 2nd Dream bias!

Of course, since Jisung hasn’t revealed his abs, we don’t know exactly how defined he is

But I think it’s safe to assume that Jisung is pretty well built

And he finds it really cool that you’re so dedicated you are to your workout routine

But dear God this kid doesn’t want to work out if he can help it

As much as he loves you, he would be a dirty liar if he said that you don’t intimidate him from time to time

You could probably bench press Jisung without thinking about it

Okay - I’m exaggerating, but you get the point

Kinda like Hyuck, whatever possessed this kid to ask you if he could join you must of had it in for him that day

You smirk, he realises what he just said and starts backing up

“Wait, wait, wait - let’s talk about this!”

“Uh uh, you suggested it JiJi. Come on, it won’t be that bad”

He kinda just goes -_-

Not bad? Not bad for you, you mean-

Does anything - and I mean literally anything - to get out of it

When you aren’t buying it, he deflates  and joins you

Is going through it by the time the two of you are halfway

Send help lol

You get home and he’s like “Yeah - never doing that again.”

Help this child lol

[nancydfan]

I love how the general consensus is “Ethan MAY be dead but..he AINT GONNA STAY THAT WAY C’MON”

Lol RIGHT. I’ve seen a lot of people be like yeah no Ethan can survive this. Tis but a scratch. Which means at this point Capcom can sell us most anything and we’d be like yeah he’s alive. We good ✌🏼

Actually feel like if he doesn’t show up people are gonna be really surprised.