#had to discuss with my reflection for six weeks

[cattons]

this has to be some sort of diagnosable condition

[alinathinkstoomuch]

CLOSET FULL OF NERVES

pairing: aaron hotchner x nanny!reader summary: meeting your FBI boyfriend’s team? cue the outfit crisis, a bad blouse, and a mild spiral. good thing aaron knows exactly how to talk you down and remind you that being yourself is more than enough, based on this requesst. warnings: fluffff, brief porno discussion lol, aaron being sweet and protective word count: 1.1k

✧ masterlist | ✧ alina's 1k bar

Meeting Hotch’s—Aaron’s, now—team shouldn’t have filled you with this much anxiety and yet here you were, engulfed by nerves, knee-deep in a closet implosion, and currently debating whether the sacred casual but cute look was code for jeans or a dress or a possible a tailored meltdown. Your people-pleasing radar was at its absolute peak. You’d changed outfits six times, debated redoing your hair twice, and spent far too long practicing a casual ‘hi’ in the mirror.

When Aaron mentioned drinks with the team at the start of the week, it had sounded breezy enough. Being around a bunch of slightly tipsy profilers (aka human lie detectors) couldn’t be that bad…right?

Well. You were now strongly reconsidering your earlier optimism. 

You’d pieced together a mental scrapbook of them from the sidelines through Aaron’s end-of-day stories, Jack’s offhand dinner-table commentary, and the one time JJ had picked up Henry from a playdate and waved at you like she already knew your SAT scores.

But dating Aaron? That changed the math. This wasn’t idle curiosity anymore. This was entering the orbit of people who could, with startling ease, determine your attachment style and also what you were like in sixth grade. Especially now, since you weren’t just the nanny anymore—you were his person. And walking into a room full of highly perceptive people who loved him like family suddenly felt like the pressure had tripled.

You were still standing in front of the mirror, scrutinising your earrings when you heard your phone buzz. 

Aaron: Leaving now. Should be there in 10.

You: Are we sure this is a good idea? I’m totally fine skipping this one. No pressure, no potential for public humiliation. Everyone wins.

Aaron: You’ll be fine, don’t stress. They’re going to like you. 

You: But will they like-like me?

You wait. Longer than is reasonable for a man who never uses more than ten words per text. 

Aaron: I like-like you.

It was unfair, really, how casually he could undo you with four words and a hyphen. You blinked at your reflection. Your hair was doing something vaguely hopeful and the earrings suddenly didn’t seem like they mattered all that much.

You hearted the text and figured you’d let him actually reverse out of the parking lot and into yours before you started catastrophizing again. You just needed to get through the evening. Smile. Make polite conversation. Don’t say anything that reveals your deeply repressed childhood fears or the fact that you still Google words you pretend to know.

After exactly ten minutes you heard a knock on your door.

You were, naturally, mid-blouse change, tangled in something with too many buttons and not enough leniency. So you grabbed your phone, thumbed out a quick It’s open, and tossed it onto the bed, which now looked like a fabric massacre had occurred.

From downstairs, his voice travelled up to your bedroom. “Please tell me you didn’t leave the door unlocked again.”

You groaned, loudly. “Hello to you too!”

“I’m serious,” Aaron called back. “You live alone, what if someone had walked in?”

You stepped into the hallway, barefoot and still adjusting your sleeves. “What if it was the tooth fairy? You ever consider that? Maybe I was hoping to get my rent covered.”

He appeared at the bottom of the stairs then, that furrow between his brows activated in full-blown dad mode. “You live alone in a house with multiple windows and no security system.”

“Yes, but I have a very scary FBI boyfriend who never smiles. All the nonexistent threats in this neighborhood know better than to mess with me.”

You flicked the bedroom light off, grabbed your phone and made your way downstairs, one hand on the railing, the other trying to discreetly tug your blouse into behaving. You narrowed your eyes at your allegedly serious, stoic boyfriend, who, for someone denying the existence of his own smile, was very clearly suppressing one right now.

“Is something funny?” 

He shook his head, far too quickly. “No. Not at all. You just look... different.”

You stopped at the last step. “Different how?”

“Just…”

“Spit it out, Hotchner, or I swear I’ll continue leaving my doors unlocked.” Blackmail. It never lets you down.

“You don’t look very you. You look like…we’re going to a job interview.”

“Aaron!” you shrieked, giving his chest a shove. 

He took it in stride, both hands raised in surrender, that damn half-smile still flirting with the corner of his mouth. “Honey, I know how you dress. And I would bet actual money that this blouse still has the tags on from when you panic-bought it today.”

“I wanted to make a good impression,” you groaned, tipping your head back. “Figured if I dressed normal enough, it might smooth over the whole ‘Hi, I’m slutting it up with your boss who also happens to be my boss because I’m his nanny’ thing. Which, if we’re being honest, sounds like the plot of a really bad porno.”

Aaron raised a brow. “Oh yeah? What do you know about pornos?”

You squinted at him, suspicious. “Is this a trap?”

“Just curious. You seemed oddly fluent in the premise.”

​​“I—okay, I was making a point. A colourful, exaggerated point.”

“That you’re in a porno.”

You sighed, ready to launch into a defensive monologue but Aaron stepped forward and caught your hands. Both of them. Like he’d done it a hundred times before and would keep doing it until your brain finally agreed you were safe.

“All jokes aside, I want you to be comfortable. And I want you to be you—the great, wonderful, endlessly patient, charming woman I fell in love with. Not some version you think will be more appealing to everyone else.”

You let a breath out. 

“Now,” he continued, “if this blouse makes you feel confident and happy, then wear it. But what I don’t want—what I won’t let happen—is you walking in there thinking any of this is inappropriate, or scandalous, or something to be ashamed of.”

The inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Not because you didn’t believe him, but because it was easier to chew on skin than emotion.

“Yes,” he added, “it was a little complicated at the start. We knew that. But I’d go through all of it again if it meant ending up here with you.”

There was something a little terrifying and kind of wonderful about being seen that clearly by someone who refused to look away. Your heart did this weird fluttery thing, like affection had turned into a full-body cramp.

“I hate this blouse,” you mumbled.

Aaron’s mouth twitched. “I suspected.”

“Do I have time to change?”

He checked his watch, then looked back at you. “Only if you tell me what pornos you’ve been watching in your spare time.”

You laughed, a chesty thing that felt borderline suffocating inside the godforsaken polyester trap that passed for a blouse on the receipt. “That’s blackmail.”

“Hm,” he hummed casually,  “wonder where I got the idea from.”

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[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part One)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Ever since school, Emma had been your best friend and now that you were both in your early twenties, and studied law at the prestigious Oxford university, nothing really changed. 

Your friendship had grown even stronger despite differences in personalities – you being introverted and reserved, she boldly exploring her newfound independence.

Emma was always full of surprises - from her unexpected move to New York City without telling anyone and then coming back six months later, to now referring to herself as Jamie Dornan's sugar baby when you were on your own while, otherwise, keeping it discreet. 

When alone with you, she would often talk about having "intimate encounters" with him and sometimes even others, keeping you amused while leaving you curious about what exactly happens behind closed doors. You were often thinking about 50 Shades of Gray, spiking your curiosity, although Emma assured you that it was nothing like that.

When talking to Emma and her sugar baby experience, it felt like one day she decided to break all boundaries – whether social or moral – as if embracing freedom beyond comprehension. Despite her brazen behavior, deep down inside, she still cared deeply about your opinion which made things interesting when discussing such topics together over coffee late into the night, sitting among the humming crowd of the cozy London Cafe.

The coffee shop filled up quickly around lunchtime, making it harder for Emma to continue sharing stories confidentially.

You eventually moved outside underneath the shade of a large tree, sipping their drinks while enjoying the cool evening air. Again, your conversation turned towards the subject of sex which was something your life was lacking.

To you only, Emma often opened up about her time spent with Jamie, the man who had become what she calls her "sugar daddy".

Their relationship was nothing serious and it was that, just after his messy and rather public divorce, he sought solace in younger women whom he could provide financial stability for. In return, they agreed upon fulfilling his needs discreetly and you knew that Emma was not the only one. 

As she shared more explicit details of their sessions, which she only did with you, the way she spoke became increasingly sensuous. She had fun, it seemed, and it was just last week that she had engaged in her first ever threesome with Jamie and another man.

"A threesome, with two men?" you asked incredulously, gripped with curiosity as she mentioned it for the first time that day. You only ever had sex with one man, and it was nothing short of boring to say the least.

"Yes. Jamie had a friend over, and it just happened. It wasn't really planned. But we had lots of fun and probably too much to drink as well" she giggled seductively, leaning forward slightly as if divulging a juicy secret. The sunlight reflected off her soft skin causing her silhouette to waver rhythmically against the foliage behind her. 

"Uhm, okay..." you began. "So who was the guy? Was he an actor too?" You queried, genuinely intrigued.

"Yes, he is an actor too, but I really shouldn't talk about this." Her tone implied reluctance to share further details.

Curiosity peaked, you probed, "But come on, tell me! Who is he? You know I won't tell!"

 She hesitated before speaking again, seemingly caught between excitement and fear. "His name is Cillian," she finally revealed, and your chin dropped.

"It's not Cillian Murphy though, is it?" you clarified, thinking of the renowned Irish actor who portrayed one of your favourite TV characters, namely Thomas Shelby. 

"Jepp," she replied simply, confirming your suspicion.

"Oh my god...Cillian Murphy? Is he actually single enough to do that kind of thing? Like wow..." you couldn't help feeling shocked. Even considering you hadn't met him personally, there was undeniable respect and admiration attached to Cillian's image as he tried to stay out of the tabloids as much as possible. 

"Well yeah, apparently he filed for divorce two weeks ago. Weird timing, right?" Emma said, looking almost surprised herself before you took up the courage to probe her with more questions.

"So, you actually had full on sex with them both? At the same time? In the same room?" 

Your head swam with visions of those three intertwined bodies, imagining the erotic chaos taking place beneath the sheets. "Wasn't it weird?" you then asked. You had so many questions.

"Yes, we had sex at the same time and it was crazy," Emma admitted, smiling mischievously. "And no, it didn't feel weird at all. It was exciting, surprisingly so."

Her frankness startled you somewhat, used to living within societal norms, yet also fascinated by how freely Emma discussed these experiences. Perhaps it was because of your conservative background that she never judged your naïveté regarding intimacy.

"I mean, Cillian Murphy is pretty fucking hot, so I do not blame you," you said, catching yourself off guard with your sudden audacity.

Emma laughed lightheartedly. "You want details don't you?" Emma teased, already aware of your insatiable curiosity. Your cheeks flushed crimson in embarrassment, partly due to her keen observation, partly due to the explicit nature of our conversation.

"Yes, of course," you stammered nervously, clearing your throat. You could barely look at Emma straight in the eye anymore, instead fixating on the ground, afraid that your face might betray you completely.

"What do you want to know about?" Emma continued, unperturbed.

"Everything. All the dirty details," you confessed honestly, unable to suppress your voyeurism any longer. "I mean, did they both, you know, at the same time, you know..." you stammered, wondering whether they simply took turns or penetrated her at the same time.

"Put their dicks in me?" Emma laughed, seeing how shy and embarrassed you were, causing you to nod.

She proceeded, "Yes, eventually. They took turns first but then both of them wanted to be with me at once. At first, I thought it was a bit awkward, but after getting comfortable, it became thrilling and liberating." 

You chin dropped, speechless. How could someone like Cillian Murphy be entangled in such debauchery? 

"You look really shocked right now," observed Emma, watching your expression carefully. "Is it because I told you or because of who it was with?" 

Though you were tempted to ask about Jamie, your mind remained fixated on Cillian. As far as you were concerned, he was practically handsome. To think he was capable of participating in these types of wild escapades was surreal. 

"A bit of both," you responded, half questioning and half affirming, hoping she wouldn't sense your growing interest.

"You know, he is single and I could get Jamie to introduce you sometime, maybe. If you want to meet him," she added nonchalantly, as if suggesting dinner plans. 

This left you stunned momentarily. You considered the possibility, envisioning yourself engaging in similar carnal acts.

"I don't think so, no... I mean, I am not like you," you protested timidly, attempting to regain composure. 

"I think you are thinking too much about moral standards which are absurd concepts, developed by society to control people and maintain certain order," Emma chuckled, referring to your prudish nature.

"Cillian is single and he was clearly intrigued by what Jamie and I have going, because it is simple. There is no hassle. No feelings. Only pure physical satisfaction. That's the arrangement between us. No strings attached. And he takes care of me financially which is really helpful seeing that I am, just like you, a student with a huge student debt," Emma went on matter-of-factly.

"That sounds nice," you commented, trying to understand why Emma would agree to being part of such arrangements without seeking a deeper connection. "But, don't you find it degrading sometimes?"

Emma gave you a sidelong glance, understanding perfectly well where your concerns stemmed from. "No, because there is absolutely nothing wrong with having sex for personal gain, especially when consent is given mutually. Despite, I actually really enjoy the sex. It's different than anything else, more intense and raw - and I feel closer to myself afterwards. There's just something powerful about it, you know? Sometimes I wonder how long this will go on, but then I remember that as long as everyone gets what they need, nobody gets hurt. This keeps everything simple and fair game, which suits me fine.”

You listened quietly, struggling to process all the information. It was difficult to imagine Emma – sweet, innocent Emma – as someone who enjoyed these kinds of arrangements. Yet somehow, hearing her describe it made it sound logical, even reasonable.

After all, money was tight for students. If consensual adults found pleasure in such arrangements, why should anyone judge them? You understood why Jamie paid for expenses in return for sexual favors – he wanted to compensate Emma for services rendered, plain and simple. Still, you marveled at how easily she glossed over potential consequences associated with such liaisons.

She always had nice, expensive things nowadays, clothes and shoes alike and she spent most nights with him, having fun and enjoying her life.

Their lifestyle seemed enviably easy and carefree compared to yours, stuck with heavy books and a mountain of debts piled high. Maybe it was worth exploring, you mused fleetingly. Still, you knew deep down inside that this wasn't the path you wanted to take. The idea felt morally corrupt, and it terrified you.

Back in reality, however, the fact still remained that you lacked the confidence needed to approach someone like Cillian Murphy let alone sleep with him. You were too scared of rejection and failure.

It was hard to believe that someone like Cillian Murphy could ever give you the attention you desired. Besides, it wasn’t as if you would suddenly become desirable just because you slept with him. Deep down, you worried that you weren't good enough. Your insecurities consumed you. However, the more you talked to Emma, the more curious you grew. How would it feel to be with such a person? What would happen during the act itself? Would they dominate you entirely? Or perhaps be gentle? So many questions filled your mind as you tried to grasp onto reality.

"Maybe dinner would be alright. I mean, nothing bad can come from meeting new people, right?" You countered cautiously, your heart racing slightly. Meeting someone like Cillian Murphy was indeed exciting, yet nerve-wracking simultaneously.

"Right. I will organise it then!" Emma said excitedly and, to you, agreeing to meet Cillian Murphy felt monumental, almost surreal.

You couldn't help feeling excited, hopeful that he would notice you among others and throughout the night, you couldn't stop reflecting upon the encounter with Emma. Her stories sparked countless fantasies that tormented your imagination, leaving you eager to experience pleasures beyond conventional boundaries. Even though it meant facing risks and challenges outside your comfort zone, the prospect of indulging in passionate encounters captivated you.

After all, hadn't dreaming been harmless until it turned into reality? Confronting your fears allowed you to grow stronger. As you sipped on another cup of coffee, lost in thought, Emma noticed your contemplation.

"So, are you really really sure?" Emma asked, seeing how nervous you were already. 

"Yes. It's just dinner, right?" you said and Emma chuckled and agreed.

"Yes, but these things can lead to more. There is no pressure though," Emma reassured you as a mischievous grin spread across her lips.

"Exactly," you nodded vigorously, although doubts crept into your head when you looked up his soon to be ex-wife and the women he had dated before, all of whom were extremely attractive. 

How could anyone possibly compete against those women? Why would he bother with somebody like me? These negative thoughts flooded your brain but nevertheless, you decided to push through these anxieties. After all, life was full of surprises and opportunities. Who knows, you may end up liking each other!

"Alright, we're doing this, then. Let's see where it leads," you confirmed firmly, looking determined despite your lingering insecurities.

Emma grinned broadly, pleased with your decision as she picked up the phone and called Jamie. 

To be continued....

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[xmattschainx]

A Feast of Passion

the one where it all starts when matt starts to play a little game of footsie with you all while being invited over to your parents' house for the first time for thanksgiving dinner (11.3K words)

Contains: smut, unprotected piv, fingering, oral (f receiving), overstim, soft!dom! boyfriend matt x very slight dom!fem but mainly sub!fem reader

The table was laid out with turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings, as the warm glow of the candles reflected off the polished silverware. The smell of roasted turkey and mashed potatoes filled the house, and my heart was pounding faster than it had in a long time. I’d been jittery all day, and now that Matt was here, seated across from me for Thanksgiving, I was doing my best to look calm. This was the first time he was meeting my family, and even though I knew my parents would like him, I still couldn’t shake the nerves. We’d been dating for six months, and things were getting serious, but Matt, of course, looked calm and collected. He was discussing football stats with my dad and nodding thoughtfully as my mom explained her famous stuffing recipe.

I had expected Matt to be a bit more nervous, especially when he had told me a week prior how he was worried he wouldn’t be able to impress my parents and win them over. Which of course, I rolled my eyes at and reassured him that they would absolutely adore him. But instead, Matt was as smooth and composed as ever. He’d already gotten a laugh out of my dad with a joke, and my mom was practically hanging on every word he said about his work. Just when I started to relax, feeling like maybe I’d gotten through the hard part, I felt his foot gently slide over mine under the table.

I held my breath. He didn’t look at me, just kept on with his easy smile as he answered a question about his job to my parents. His foot trailed up, tracing slow circles over my ankle, then my calf. I shot him a warning look, but he didn’t acknowledge it, his attention seemingly on my dad, who was asking him a question now. My eyes widened just a bit, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks. But now when I glared at him, he was casually nodding along to something my mom was saying, looking so completely composed it was almost irritating.

Meanwhile, my heart was beating out of my chest. I shifted a little in my chair, hoping it looked natural. I tried to focus on the conversation, nodding along with what he was saying, but the light pressure of his foot creeping up my leg was all I could think about. Every time I tried to move away, he found me again, his touch just firm enough to be maddeningly distracting.

When I desperately tried to find his eyes, I caught him smirking—just the slightest tug at the corner of his mouth—like he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His foot slid a little higher, tracing along my calf in a gentle tease that felt almost unbearable. I shot him another look, trying to warn him to stop, but he just kept his eyes innocently fixed on my dad, as he chuckled in response to whatever the fuck they were talking about now.

“So, Matt,” my mom spoke up, cutting a piece of turkey and through my thoughts. “Do you have any special Thanksgiving traditions in your family?”

“Oh, definitely the pie-eating contests.” he said, keeping a straight face as he glanced at me just briefly, a mischievous spark in his eye as his foot moved even higher. His voice stayed steady, smooth as ever, while my pulse raced. I could feel the heat spreading through my cheeks as I tried to keep my breathing even. Giving me the faintest wink, he added, “I come from a very competitive family.” He chuckled, and my mom laughed along, clearly charmed by him. He leaned forward, his voice dropping just slightly, just enough for me to feel the weight in his words. “I’m always up for a little friendly competition. Makes things… exciting.” His gaze flicked over to me, just for a second, and the look he gave me was full of that teasing, almost wicked confidence.

Meanwhile, I was desperately trying to keep myself together. It was like he’d perfected this art of being able to split his focus—having a genuine conversation with my family while somehow driving me absolutely crazy at the same time. It felt like he was daring me to react, testing how much he could push me without anyone noticing. Every brush of his foot against my thigh was a challenge. I bit down on my lip, focusing hard on not giving him the satisfaction of seeing me squirm.

Finally, I felt like I couldn’t handle it anymore. I gave him a little kick under the table, trying to stop him. He looked over at me with this mock surprise, raising an eyebrow just slightly, as if to say, Did you need something? But his foot didn’t stop.

I clenched my hands under the table, swallowing hard as he slid his foot higher, almost unbearably close now. Somehow, he managed to keep his attention fully on my parents, nodding thoughtfully as my dad launched into a story about a fishing trip, even throwing in a follow-up question, as if he weren’t completely tormenting me under the table.

I tried to shake him off, nudging his foot back with what I hoped was a subtle movement. He only smirked, leaning back with a look of perfect innocence. I couldn’t take it anymore. I shot him a desperate look, one that I hoped said enough.

But he just gave me that maddening little grin, barely a twitch of his lips, like he knew exactly the effect he was having on me. It took everything I had not to gasp when he pressed just a bit higher. I grabbed my water glass, hoping it would disguise the flush I could feel spreading over my cheeks. I could hardly hear my mom’s voice over the pounding in my ears.

After what felt like an eternity, my mom finally announced it was time for dessert. I got up so quickly I nearly knocked my chair over, hoping the movement would break whatever hold he had on me. As I passed him, he reached out, just barely brushing his fingers over my hand, sending a last little thrill through me that had me feeling unsteady.

When I glanced back, he gave me one more of those smirks. Leaning in close enough so no one else could hear, he whispered, “Couldn’t keep a straight face, could you?”

I felt a shiver run through me as I leaned closer. “You have no idea what you’re in for.” I whispered back, smiling sweetly, knowing full well that two could play this game.

I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself as I helped my mom carry the dishes to the kitchen. The cool air in there helped calm my nerves just a bit, but all it took was one glance back at Matt, still sitting at the table with that maddeningly calm expression, and the butterflies in my stomach stirred up again. The man was impossible.

As I reached for the dessert plates, I felt my mom’s hand on my arm. “He’s a good one.” she said quietly, nodding toward Matt. “You look happy, honey.”

If she only knew half of it. I forced a smile, managing a quick nod. “Yeah, he’s… he’s great.”

When I came back out to the dining room, Matt was leaning back in his chair, looking right at me. The second our eyes met, he raised an eyebrow, and there was that spark again, that silent challenge. This time, I didn’t look away. He wanted to play games? Fine. I could play too.

I set a slice of pumpkin pie in front of him, and as I leaned over, I let my hand brush just a little too close to his, making sure he could feel the subtle brush of my fingers. The corner of his mouth curved into that familiar smirk, but he didn’t say a word, just looked up at me with that knowing gleam in his eye.

Taking my seat across from him, I slid my foot out of my shoe, and slowly pressed it against his ankle, letting my toes trace along his leg under the table, inching up the way he’d done to me. His jaw tightened just a fraction, but his expression remained casual as ever.

“So, Matt,” I said, keeping my voice smooth. “What’s your favorite pie? Pumpkin, apple, pecan?”

“Oh, I’m not picky.” he said smoothly, his gaze intense as he looked at me. “I like anything that has a little kick to it.” His voice was soft, barely above a murmur, but the words sent a thrill through me. It was like we were having a completely different conversation under the surface, one that only we knew about.

I didn’t stop. My foot moved up his leg, my fingers toying with my fork as I looked him straight in the eyes, challenging him to break. I saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he paused just a fraction before taking his next bite of pie. My parents were talking about something—something about plans for the weekend—but Matt and I barely seemed to notice. All that mattered was the current between us, that electric pulse that made everything else fade into the background.

Then, just as he reached across the table to pass my dad the whipped cream, I gave a gentle but deliberate press with my foot, tracing up just enough to push him. His hand stilled, and he cleared his throat, that cool demeanor cracking just a bit. His eyes flashed, and I knew I’d finally gotten to him.

“Are you okay, Matt?” my dad asked, noticing his slight hesitation.

“Yeah.” he said, flashing a charming smile that looked a little forced, though only I could tell. “Guess I just, uh, lost my balance for a second.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” I murmured, trying to suppress a grin. He shot me a look—something fierce and dark and brimming with that quiet intensity that always made me feel like I was the only person in the room.

After dessert, as everyone headed to the living room, he found me alone in the hallway. He caught my arm, pulling me close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and husky.

I tilted my head up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t think,” I whispered back. “I know.”

His eyes darkened, and for a second, I thought he might kiss me right there, consequences be damned. Instead, he leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “Just wait until I get you alone.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, but it sent a shiver through me that made my knees go weak.

I pulled back, giving him a sweet smile, one that I knew would drive him crazy. “Promises, promises.” I whispered, brushing past him rolling my eyes, leaving him there in the hallway. 

I felt a pulse of excitement rush through me as I walked away, feeling his gaze on my back, hot and unyielding. My heart pounded as I joined my family in the living room, and it took all my focus to act as if nothing had just happened. I could feel the lingering warmth from Matt’s words in my ear, and the promise that lay beneath them kept me on edge, like a live wire buzzing under my skin.

Matt took his time before joining us. When he did, he slid in smoothly beside me on the couch, his thigh brushing against mine, sending that familiar jolt through me. Every little touch felt charged, loaded with a tension I wasn’t sure I could keep handling in front of everyone. But I kept my face neutral, knowing he was waiting for any sign that I was flustered.

My dad picked up the conversation again, asking Matt more about his job, and Matt effortlessly launched into a detailed explanation. But his hand drifted, subtle and slow, resting on the back of the couch just behind me. His fingers brushed the bare skin of my neck, light as a whisper, but enough to make my pulse skip.

I gave him a small nudge, hoping he’d get the message, but he just looked down at me, an innocent smile on his face. “Something wrong?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a murmur. Only I could hear the teasing in it, the edge that made my breath catch.

“No, nothing at all.” I replied, my voice steady, even as he let his fingers drift down the curve of my shoulder. I tried to focus on my parents’ conversation, but every touch, every slight graze of his hand against my skin, made it impossible to think straight. He was relentless, testing my every boundary, making it feel like the room was ours alone.

At one point, his fingers trailed down my arm, his thumb brushing softly over my wrist, and I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through me. He noticed, of course, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes, that subtle gleam that told me he knew exactly what he was doing.

Eventually, my mom stood up and announced it was time to start cleaning up, pulling my dad with her to give us a little time alone in the living room. I shot her a grateful smile, even though I knew she had no idea what she’d just set in motion.

As soon as they were out of sight, Matt turned to me, his expression shifting from playful to intense in an instant. His hand slid down to rest on my thigh, his fingers warm through the fabric. “You’re a menace.” he murmured, his gaze never leaving mine.

“Am I?” I whispered back, the thrill in my voice undeniable.

He nodded, his hand inching higher, his eyes dark with that fierce determination that had me breathless. “Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through tonight?”

I leaned in, letting my lips brush against his ear. “Payback.” I murmured, barely able to keep the teasing tone in my voice. But the second I said it, he tightened his grip, his thumb tracing slow, maddening circles on my leg.

“Be careful with payback.” he said softly, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that made my heart race. “You might get more than you bargained for.”

I held his gaze, my pulse thundering, the anticipation building so intensely I could barely breathe. The air between us felt electric, humming with an unspoken promise. I could see it in his eyes—he was daring me to keep pushing him, to see how far I could go before he’d finally break.

Before I could respond, I heard my mom’s voice coming from the kitchen, calling us back to help with the dishes. I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly, trying to steady myself. When I looked at him again, he was grinning, that wicked look in his eyes making it clear this was far from over.

I stood, giving him a lingering look. “After we finish up here,” I said softly, just for him. “Then we’ll see who’s in trouble.”

His gaze turned smoldering, his expression promising all the things he couldn’t say in front of my family. “Oh, I’m looking forward to it.” he replied, his voice barely a whisper but heavy with intent.

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. We helped clean up, exchanged stories with my family, all while keeping that charged, unbreakable thread between us, pulling tighter with every shared glance, every accidental brush of his hand. By the time we were finally ready to leave, I was barely holding it together.

As we stepped outside into the cool night air, he turned to me, eyes blazing, that teasing grin gone, replaced by something darker, fiercer. He reached for me, his hand warm as it slipped around my waist, pulling me close. And before I could catch my breath, his lips were on mine, fierce and unrelenting, finally giving in to the tension that had been building all night.

When he pulled back, his voice was a low, rough whisper. “Still think you’re winning?”

I smiled, breathless, my fingers tangled in his shirt. “Maybe.” I whispered back, a thrill running through me. “But I’ll let you try to change my mind.”

And as he took my hand, leading me to the car, I knew neither of us would be holding back anymore.

We drove in a comfortable silence, the tension between us still humming just beneath the surface. Every now and then, I’d catch him glancing over, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips, but he kept his eyes mostly on the road. I wanted to say something witty, something that would keep our playful rivalry going, but the closer we got to my apartment, the harder it became to keep my thoughts straight.

When we finally pulled up, I barely had time to unbuckle my seatbelt before he was out of the car and opening my door, his gaze intense and unwavering. He took my hand, helping me out with a gentleness that contrasted with the tension still thrumming between us. It felt like every touch, every look was charged, the air thick with all the things we hadn’t said.

Inside, I closed the door behind us, the silence feeling almost louder now. Matt stepped closer, his eyes dark, searching mine. I could feel the warmth radiating off him, and my heart started racing all over again.

“Now that we’re alone…” His voice was low, that edge of teasing softened into something more serious, and he reached up, brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers lingered, his gaze tracing over my features as though he were memorizing every detail.

“You’ve had this planned all night, haven’t you?” I whispered, half-smiling, though my voice wavered just a bit.

He nodded, his thumb brushing over my cheek. “Maybe. But you didn’t exactly make it easy on me.” His smirk returned, but there was something softer in his eyes. “You’re sneaky, you know that?”

The playfulness between us faded into something deeper, a warmth that made my heart skip. I reached up, sliding my arms around his neck, pulling him down until our foreheads touched. “Well, maybe I like keeping you on your toes.” I murmured, closing the last bit of space between us.

This kiss was softer, slower than before. There was no need to rush, no need for the teasing push and pull we’d been playing at all night. It was as though we were finally letting down every wall, every layer of flirtation and rivalry, just to be with each other.

When we finally pulled apart, I felt myself smiling, my heart so full it was almost overwhelming. We didn’t need words. It was enough just to be here, in this quiet moment, with everything we needed right in front of us.

Matt held me close, his arms wrapped around me as if he never wanted to let go. We stood like that for a while, just breathing each other in, the warmth of his embrace making me feel safe, steady, like nothing else mattered.

Eventually, he leaned back, looking at me with a softness that I didn’t see often but that always made me feel like I was seeing something secret, something just for me. He reached up, tracing his thumb gently along my jaw, his eyes filled with so much warmth it made my heart swell.

“You know,” he said softly. “Meeting your family tonight… it meant a lot to me.”

I felt a smile tug at my lips. “They loved you, Matt. I could see it in the way my mom kept laughing at your stories and the way my dad kept trying to learn more about you. They don’t do that for just anyone.”

He chuckled, his fingers playing with a strand of my hair. “Good to know. I’ll admit, I was nervous… until I saw you.”

I arched an eyebrow, my smile widening. “You? Nervous?”

His grin was sheepish. “Yeah, well, maybe not nervous in the usual way. I just wanted to make a good impression, for you.” He paused, taking my hand, his thumb brushing lightly over my knuckles. “I wanted them to see how much you mean to me.”

Hearing him say that, so openly, made my heart skip a beat. I tightened my hold on his hand, feeling a mix of emotions I hadn’t expected tonight. “You’re good at making impressions.” I whispered. “Maybe a little too good, honestly.”

He laughed, the sound low and warm, and he pulled me close again. “Well, in that case, I’d say it’s mission accomplished.”

The moment hung between us, heavy and unbreakable. I could see it in his eyes—a simmering intensity that hadn’t dimmed, even after tonight. My heart raced, and my breath felt shallow, the air thick with something between anticipation and need. Without another word, he leaned in, his lips finding mine, this time fiercer, as if all the tension of the night had finally snapped and there was no holding back anymore.

He lifted me, his hands strong and certain, guiding me until my back met the wall. His mouth trailed down my jaw, his breath warm against my skin, each kiss sending waves of heat through me. I held onto him, feeling as though the entire world had narrowed to this moment, this man, here with me.

His fingers found mine, lacing through them, pinning my hands against the wall as he leaned in closer, his breath ragged. His eyes met mine, and I saw that same look he’d had across the dinner table—dark, unyielding, daring me, but there was something deeper now, raw and undeniable. It was like every look, every tease tonight had built to this, a slow burn that had finally erupted into flames.

I pulled him closer, feeling his heartbeat pounding as fiercely as mine, our breaths mixing in the silence of the room. Every touch, every kiss felt charged, and I was lost in it, in him, forgetting everything else, only aware of this intensity between us.

He whispered my name, low and rough, sending a shiver through me. And as we moved together, I realized I’d never felt this alive, this completely consumed. 

We stayed close, our breaths gradually slowing as the intensity between us softened into something warm, steady, and real. In that quiet moment, the passion between us gave way to a deep, comfortable silence. I could feel his heartbeat slowly calming under my hand, matching my own.

Matt placed me down on my feet again and looked at me, his hand gently brushing my cheek, his touch lingering in a way that made me feel grounded, secure. He held my gaze, his eyes softer than I’d ever seen them. “You really do mean everything to me.” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, simple yet carrying a weight that went beyond anything he’d said before.

I felt a lump form in my throat, warmth spreading through me. His vulnerability touched me deeply, making me feel like I was glimpsing a side of him he rarely showed. I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him close, and buried my face in his shoulder, feeling overwhelmed by a mix of gratitude and happiness.

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other, letting the quiet speak louder than words. It felt like a moment that would last forever—a moment of pure connection, something that went beyond attraction or affection. This was trust, comfort, something that felt like home.

As the moment of sentiment faded, a charged silence settled between us again, heavier this time, thick with an undercurrent of desire. I pulled away, but my body was still molded against his and I could feel the heat radiating from Matt. His eyes darkened as he looked at me, a fierce intensity igniting something deep within me.

Before I could think, I leaned in, capturing his lips with mine once more. This kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if we were both aware of the unspoken tension that had been building all night. His hands slid to my hips, gripping me tight but firm, his touch igniting every nerve within me. I lost myself in him, the world outside fading away, our surroundings disappearing as we pressed against each other.

His mouth moved against mine with a ferocity that sent a thrill through me, a spark that ignited a fire deep in my core. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him even closer as I felt the warmth of his body against mine. Every kiss was a promise, each moment drawing us closer, the intensity swirling between us like a storm.

Matt’s hands roamed up my back, his fingers tracing my spine, making me shiver with pleasure. I responded by deepening the kiss, my body arching toward him, craving more. His lips traveled to my jaw, then down my neck, sending electric sensations through me. I could feel the heat rising, my skin tingling where his mouth touched.

“God, you’re incredible.” he breathed against my skin, and I felt a rush of heat at his words, my breath hitching in response. The combination of his voice and the way he touched me sent me into a dizzying haze, leaving me wanting more.

“Matt…” I whispered, my voice barely a breath as I tilted my head back, exposing more of my neck to him. He took the invitation, his lips trailing back up, kissing and teasing as he moved back to my mouth.

Our kisses grew more desperate, as though we were both trying to capture the moment, to solidify what was happening between us. I could feel his heart racing against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. The world outside ceased to exist; it was just us, lost in this embrace.

He pulled away slightly, looking into my eyes, his breath mingling with mine, his expression intense. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a mix of desire and concern.

I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes. I want this. I want you.”

With that, he captured my lips again, his kiss deepening, his hands gripping my waist as he pressed me against the wall. I melted into him, every kiss igniting more passion, more urgency. He pulled me closer, our bodies fitting together as if they were made for one another. The intensity of our connection enveloped us, and I lost track of time as we kissed.

The kiss became more frantic, as if we were trying to consume each other whole. My hands tangled in Matt's hair, tugging him closer as his mouth moved against mine with an insatiable urgency. Each touch ignited sparks that raced through my body, setting my skin ablaze. I could feel the heat radiating between us, a magnetic pull that was impossible to resist.

As I pressed against him, I felt the firm muscle of his chest, the warmth of his body against mine, and it made my heart race even faster. He responded by tightening his grip around my waist, lifting me slightly as if to pull me even deeper into him, making me feel weightless and utterly alive.

His kisses trailed down my neck again, sending shivers coursing through me, and I gasped softly, my head tilting back against the wall. “Matt…” I breathed, feeling completely vulnerable yet exhilarated, every nerve ending on high alert.

“You’re so breathtaking.” he murmured against my skin, his voice rough with desire. It sent a wave of warmth flooding through me, and I pulled him back to me, needing more of him, wanting to taste that intensity again. 

As his lips met mine once more, I felt him press me harder against the wall, our bodies fitting together perfectly, the world outside slipping further away. I could taste the sweetness of his breath, the warmth of his mouth, and I lost myself in the sensations—each kiss was a new exploration, a new promise.

His hands roamed down my sides, exploring every curve as if memorizing every inch of me. I pressed myself closer, feeling the heat radiating from him, wanting nothing more than to close the distance entirely. He trailed his fingers by the edge of the sweetheart neckline of my dress, hesitating for just a heartbeat, as if checking in with me.

“Please.” I whispered, my voice barely above a breath, the single word filled with all the longing and trust I had in him.

With a low, growling sound of approval, he pushed the sleeves past my shoulders exposing my skin to the cool air and his warm hands. The contrast sent a jolt through me, and I gasped, my body arching instinctively into his touch. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses against my collarbone, trailing his lips down to the delicate curve of my shoulder, igniting my skin wherever he touched.

The heat between us intensified, wrapping around us like a blanket, leaving no space for doubt or hesitation. I felt alive in a way I’d never experienced, caught in the swell of passion and the deepening connection we were forging with every kiss, every touch.

His hands moved with purpose, exploring, caressing, and I could feel every heartbeat thudding between us, our desires intertwined as he lifted me slightly, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He held me firmly, his breath ragged against my skin as he took a moment to look at me, his eyes dark and filled with an intensity that made my heart race.

“Just tell me if you want to slow down.” he murmured, his voice low and steady, grounding me even as my body felt like it was on fire.

“I don’t want to slow down.” I replied, my voice filled with certainty as I shook my head. I wanted this—every moment, every touch—and I was ready for whatever came next.

With a deep, primal sound, he captured my lips again, and everything else faded away. In that moment, nothing existed outside of us, our hearts and bodies entwined, lost in the depths of our desire.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back, letting him dictate the pace as our mouths moved slowly but passionately against each other's. Matt groaned quietly against my mouth when I ran my fingers through his hair and then he pressed me closer to him when I tugged at the roots just a little. His tongue slid inside my mouth, and it was me who moaned against him this time, my body feeling hot up against his own.

My chest ached, as my lungs fought me for any intake of oxygen, but I didn't care. I pulled him by his shirt and kissed him with everything I had, making sure he understood how badly I wanted him tonight.

Matt groaned into my mouth once more, his hand at my cheek moving towards my neck as his thumb brushed against my jaw and his tongue slid sensually against mine. His kiss was skillful and confident much like the man himself that I very much loved.

Matt suddenly pulled away from me, not before tugging at my bottom lip with his teeth and letting it bounce back. We both breathed heavily, with our foreheads touching and our eyes closed as we held onto each other. His hand at my waist burned through the material of my dress, his touch welcomed and wanted desperately at this point.

Matt's lips brushed under my jaw and followed in a teasing glide down my neck. His tongue pressed down against my sweet spot just as he sucked down onto it. My hand at his shirt gripped hard and I bit my lip as a shallow breath left me as he used his hand to slide up and down my waist.

I wanted him so badly.

"Your skin is so soft." he rasped against my neck and I shivered, my lips parting into a breathless moan at the sound of his voice. God, his voice could turn me to mush when he wanted it to and right now was definitely one of those moments. "I can't get enough of you..." he whispered, his breath warm against my throat as his thumb swept across my bottom lip.

He carried me effortlessly, his strength evident as he navigated through our apartment, my legs still wrapped around his waist. The thrill of it all sent shivers down my spine, each heartbeat thrumming with anticipation. I shamelessly began to rock my hips against him, creating the most delicious friction between us. A whimper left me as I felt myself get ignited from the spark that my movements had caused. Hearing Matt groan in response, made me grow more desperate by the second to quickly remove the barrier that our clothes had become, keeping us from being skin to skin.  We reached the bedroom, and he kicked the door closed behind us, cutting off the world outside.

The dim light casted shadows across the room, but it was enough to illuminate the intensity in his gaze. He set me down gently on the bed, but the moment I felt the cool sheets against my skin, he was right there, leaning over me, his presence overwhelming in the best way. His eyes locked on mine as if he was searching for any sign of hesitation. But there was none; all I felt was a deep, throbbing need for him.

“I need you.” I breathed, reaching forward to hook my finger onto his thin silver chain that dangled above me, pulling him closer, confirming that without any doubt I wanted him to devour me tonight.

With that, he captured my mouth again, his kiss igniting something primal within me. My fingers found their way to his hair, tugging gently as he leaned into me, his body pressing against mine, heat radiating from him. The kiss became a dance of urgency and longing, each movement intensifying the fire that burned between us.

Suddenly, I felt a bit daring. With both hands, I pushed him back slightly causing Matt to look at me with a raised eyebrow. When he saw a sly grin spread across my lips, his expression relaxed and he licked his lips waiting to see what I had planned. I got up from the bed and pressed down on his shoulder so he could sit down on the edge of the mattress instead. He stared up at me as I stood between his legs, his hand on my waist firm but soft as he touched me across my hips in small circles. I held my hands against his shoulder, my eyes locked onto his as the tension between us continued to grow further with the only exception to silence being our heavy breathing.

I leaned down and cupped his jaw as my thumbs stroked across his skin as I brought my lips against his and kissed him, with the same passion I knew he felt between us too. Matt breathed in sharply, his soft call of my name against my lips echoing in my ears as I moved my lips against his. His moaning doubled the ache inciting between my legs when I slid my tongue in his mouth.

We continued like this, our mouths never stopping from kissing the other as the heat between us continued to grow to scorching levels that had us panting against each other's mouths. It was like we were both in a race that we didn't want to finish.

Matt's hand slipped under the skirt of my dress, and came up to the back of my knees as he trailed them up teasingly slow. I shivered at his touch, a moan leaving my lips as the cool touch of the metal around his fingers came into contact with my heated skin.

"Damn those rings." I whispered breathless and Matt arched a brow as he smirked knowingly at me.

"I know you like them." he said quietly, his tone adding to the desire present within me as he now trailed both of his hands across my thighs, those fingertips gradually and dangerously reaching close to where I needed him the most. He ran his tongue over his teeth before taking his lower lip between them as he continued to stare at me.

I had to pull away and take a step back because it was overwhelming being watched by Matt like this. But he seemed to have not liked the space I left between us even for a mere moment, because he stood up almost immediately and grabbed the zipper of my dress, and before I could fathom or blink properly, he molded his body against mine just as the fabric slipped past my body and pooled around my feet. Matt’s hands roamed down my sides, exploring my curves as he took his time, savoring every moment. His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip and I felt my body warm up from the appreciative way he looked at me. 

As his body pressed into mine, the heat rising between us felt electric. The cool air sent goosebumps over my body, and I could feel his gaze raking over me, a mix of desire and admiration that made my heart race. “You’re stunning.” he breathed, and the way he said it made me feel more than just beautiful; it made me feel cherished.

He trailed his fingers over my waist, down my thighs, and then back up, creating a wave of sensation that left me breathless. I arched into him, craving more, wanting to feel every inch of him against me. With each kiss, each caress, I could feel the heat pooling in my core, a delicious ache that demanded release, and I pushed against him, wanting him closer.

He broke the kiss, his lips moving down my neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin, eliciting soft gasps from me. “You’re so beautiful.” he murmured against my skin, and the sincerity in his voice made my heart flutter and my eyes well up. I felt vulnerable yet powerful under his gaze, every touch electrifying.

Still with my lust for him still raging inside of me, I eased him back down onto the bed and crawled on top of him until I straddled his hips with my thighs. My hands inched their way up to his chest as I pressed a sensual kiss under his jaw that made him groan against me. I began to work the buttons of his shirt open, my fingers tugged at each one until I was halfway there and his skin came into sight.

As our bodies were pressed together, I felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with a hint of nervousness. The connection between us was electric, and the anticipation of what was to come sent shivers down my spine. Matt's hands roamed my sides, fingers dancing over my skin, igniting every nerve as I leaned into him, craving his warmth.

With a playful smirk, I kissed him again, this time slower, teasingly. I could feel the heat radiating from him, his body responding to every brush of my lips, every soft gasp I released. Our breaths mingled, creating a rhythm that matched the pounding of my heart.

“Okay, it's your turn to keep up.” I teased, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

Matt grinned, his hands gripping my waist as he pulled me closer, our bodies perfectly aligned. I could feel the heat of his desire against me, and it only fueled my own. His lips found my neck, trailing soft kisses that made my breath hitch, and I leaned back into him, surrendering to the sensations flooding my senses.

“Fuck, you’re so intoxicating.” he murmured against my skin, his breath sending shivers down my spine. I felt powerful, caught in this beautiful moment of shared vulnerability and desire.

With renewed confidence, I began to explore him. I was so into him, his body, and his mind that I knew before I even did it, he was just as desperate as me, for me to touch him. My thoughts were confirmed correct the second my lips touched the center of his chest. A sharp hiss left his mouth and his body tensed underneath mine, setting off a fire inside me that made a groan of my own leave my lips as I continued to travel my way down.

I drew in a sharp breath as my tongue flicked out to trace down his stomach, the soft muscle tensing against me as I peeled away Matt's shirt, so it's out of my way. I heard him groan quietly, his chest rising and falling quickly as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch me kiss him reverently. Each kiss of mine was a silent gesture, showing how much I loved him and how much he meant to me.

My hands moved down his chest, tracing the lines of his body. I reveled in the way he responded to my touch, each sigh and moan pushing me further into a whirlwind of sensation. I could feel him tightening beneath me, the heat radiating from him becoming more intense.

“Matt.” I whispered, my voice thick with desire. “I want you.”

He bit his lip and with his eyes locked on mine, he removed his shirt the rest of the way with his upper body now completely bare. 

I proceeded to gently bite down onto the top of his pants as my hand slid up his thigh and before I reached forward to touch him, he yanked me up by my arms and crushed his lips against mine in a fierce kiss that made my head spin, and my breath rushed out of me. I moaned against his mouth as I was brought back onto his lap with his hand pushing down on my lower back, to bring me flush against him and to have our chests mold together.

I could feel the tension building between us, a sweet ache that threatened to consume me. The way he held me, the way he kissed me—it was as if we were both trying to bridge the gap between our bodies and souls. And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

I cupped his jaw with one hand and used the other to pull at his hair as he used his hands to stroke across my lower back, his touch being so soft and gentle which made an indescribable emotion swell inside of me and my lips part away to release a gasp.

As I shifted my weight, feeling him beneath me, I took a breath, ready to take the next step. I could sense his anticipation mirroring mine, an electric current flowing between us. Our lips stayed near each other's, the both of us breathing heavily as the seconds ticked by and his hand finally reached the clasp of my bra. With his eyes locked onto mine and with a subtle nod from me, Matt snapped his fingers against the lace constricting me and it gave away, leaving my breasts now free for him to do as he pleased.

"You're so beautiful." his warm breath hit my neck as he whispered into my ear. His tone gentle, but laced with desire.

"Matt." I whispered back, swallowing the dry lump in my throat as I stared back at him. My hands rested on his chest as I tilted my head to brush a kiss under his jaw. I had also begun to trail my fingers down slowly, until I was met with the button of his pants.

My heart thudded hard inside my chest and my breaths kept getting caught, but I still continued to kiss him taking his soft grunts as the green light to what I was doing, was right. Matt groaned again when I lowered my hips and felt his bulge press against the apex of my thighs, as I gently rocked my hips against him. His hand grabbed my hip to guide me on him, while his other hand moved forward to cup one of my breasts to tantalize it with his thumb.

"Oh God." I breathed out as my body tingled with pleasure due to the touch of his hands on me. "Matt..."

He wrapped his arm around me, one arm banding across my hip while the other continued to touch me across my chest, tugging and teasing until I was panting and rocking my core steadily onto the growing bulge straining against his pants. My lips parted as I moaned softly into his ear when his tongue traced across my breasts, his touch being light until he drew each of the stiffened peaks on my breasts into his mouth and sucked on it. The feeling of his tongue gliding across my heated skin, sent the pulse between my legs to grow into a fierce ache that made my thighs clench against his hips.

I was panting with need, my hand now tugging at his hair to hold him close as I continued to stroke against him through the material of his pants. My hips rolled to their own accord with each groan he let out, spurring me further on as he lavished each of my breasts with equal amounts of attention.

I wanted to scream at the feeling of his mouth against my body, but I remained quiet and instead enjoyed the way he worshipped my body with his lips and hands.

Tension gripped his body underneath mine, his skin being feverishly hot. Matt growled against my skin when I attempted to undo the button of his pants. In mere seconds I went from being on top of him to being underneath him, his body now hovering above mine as I wrapped my legs around his hips.

"You don't know how badly I want you." he whispered above my lips, silencing me with his mouth pressing onto mine. His need for me was clear as he slipped his tongue into my mouth and kissed me deeply, with his own breaths mixing with my own and filling my lungs. My senses heightened and my mind spun as I angled my head and kissed him sincerely.

I wanted him so much too, that it began to hurt to.

Matt's hands ran up and down my spine, his touch trembling and restless. When he groaned against my neck, my sex clenched in response, and I bit down hard onto my lower lip as my head tilted back and my hands clenched at the sheets.

"Touch me… please." I moaned softly, my back arching when his hands gripped my hips and smoothed across the hem of my underwear, his fingers scorching hot against my skin. Matt's mouth kissed a path under my jaw and down my neck. His tongue licked across the sensitive spots and sucked down wherever he could as he pressed himself against me and rocked his hips over my heated core. We both moaned at the contact, the undeniable chemistry between us never ceasing.

He sank to his knees at the opposite end of my bed and spread my legs apart, with his fingers trailing up and across my inner thighs until he was touching the edges of my underwear yet again. I bent my elbows and watched him, my throat constricting at the adoring look in his eyes when he watched me. "Let's take these off." he murmured and I nodded in response, lifting my hips for him to pull the lace material down my legs and toss them across the room. "Fuck..." he breathed out, his eyes latching onto the newly exposed area of my body.

I blushed from head to toe, feeling exposed and raw as I laid there naked underneath his gaze. Still, I opened my legs a little more, my body so aroused that I felt myself tremble at just the slightest touch of his hands. One of Matt's hands fell across my hip and he began to rub soothing circles onto it.

"You're so wet for me." he murmured, his gaze lowering to between my legs as he licked his lips.

"Shut up." I whispered, scandalized by him and his words despite the tender edge laced into them. "Oh." I suddenly whimpered when his fingers slid between my legs and rubbed at my center. My own arousal made me slick for his touch that it made my eyes close tightly and my lips tremble.

Matt groaned against my inner thigh and his finger slid into me nice and slow. He pulled out and then thrusted back inside me gently as my back arched and I clenched around him. He didn't say anything but heavily breathed against my sex as he continued to pump into me steadily, and drove my insides alight with pleasurable tremors.

This man had amazing hands and I hated them and loved them, all at the same time.

I was panting for him, my hips pushing against the force of his finger pushing in and out of me as his thumb circled against my center, slick and hot. "Matt... Oh my God."

I had never been so turned on in my life to the point where I felt mindless, as if I was floating in a cloud that would suddenly evaporate and drop me into a crushing orgasm that would break me apart.

He quickened his pace slightly, his finger now pulling out to push back in with a second finger. I moaned louder, my hips seeking and rolling into his hand as I cried out his name breathlessly. I was trembling as I was reaching the brink of my orgasm.

"Come for me sweetheart... let go." he breathed hard, his thumb rubbing across my center at the same time his fingers curled inside me and scissored against each other. My legs shook, my back arched, and I cried out as the rush of an orgasm hit me hard, an intense wave rolling across me as I found my release.

Searing pleasure pulsed through me and beyond my own moans, I heard Matt mumble something about me being beautiful and loving how I came for him so helplessly. My body softened once he helped me ride through my orgasm and through the haze in my mind, I noticed him standing up before me and unbuttoning his pants as he slipped out of his shoes.

"Come here." I said to him. Matt's hands at his zipper paused and he nodded, moving closer to me. His hands were replaced with my own as I peeled off his pants and his underwear in one swift pull, revealing all of him to me.

My mouth dried up and my tongue darted out to lick my lips. Matt watched me as I took his length in my hand and stroked him from root to tip gently, my hand caressing his silky hot skin as he hissed out a sharp breath. My thumb rubbed against the top and I swiped the clear drop of arousal over him and my hand at his hip tightened. "Wait… stop." his breaths came out strained. He closed his hand over my own to stroke one last time before he pulled my hand away and started to move forward and towards me.

I moved back onto the bed, my head now hitting the pillows as he settled himself against me, our throbbing sexes barely touching. His hands slid up my body after he pulled my shoes off of my feet, until he cupped my cheeks and pressed a soft, tender kiss onto my lips. His weight pressed down upon me and I could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard muscles of his body juxtaposed with the softness of the sheets beneath me.  His lips met mine again, and the kiss turned urgent once more, a primal hunger building between us.

With a newfound intensity, he began kissing down my body, trailing hot kisses down my neck, along my collarbone, and further still, igniting my skin with each touch. I gasped as he reached the swell of my breasts once again, his hands exploring every curve, making me arch into him, craving more of his warmth.

“Matt.” I whispered, my voice shaky with need, pulling him back up to me, wanting to feel his weight against me once more. He obliged, capturing my lips again, but the urgency in his kisses was palpable, a wild, untamed hunger that sent shivers down my spine.

The moment hung in the air, thick with tension and anticipation. Matt's kisses deepened again, the urgency between us growing more desperate, more fervent. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as my body instinctively pressed against his. The heat radiating from him was intoxicating, every touch igniting a fire within me that demanded more.

With a soft growl, he pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, his gaze dark and filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. "This okay?" he whispered above my lips and I nodded slowly, swallowing thickly. There was no holding back now; everything we had built tonight led us to this moment. His fingers moved to touch my opening again, and his fingers circled against my center.

I began to tremble from the sensitivity still there, but my body burned for him with desire. He groaned at the same time I did when he took himself in his hand, to rub the tip against my slick sex, the friction making my legs tremble at his hips and wrap around him tight.

With his lips pressed against mine and his kiss deepening further, he eased inside of me, him filling me slowly as I cried out his name into his mouth. Matt moaned loudly, his own restraint tested when he pushed in inch after inch all the way until his hips were flush against mine.

With careful deliberation, he began to explore me again, trailing his lips down my neck and across my collarbone. His hands moved with confidence, caressing every inch of my body, igniting every nerve. I arched into him, the heat pooling deeper, and I felt every sensation magnified, every kiss, every touch sending me further into bliss.

“God, you feel amazing.” he murmured, his breath hot against my skin as he took his time, savoring the moment, exploring every curve and contour. I felt like a canvas he was painting with his touch, his kisses, and I reveled in the attention, the intimacy.

I tugged him back up to me, pulling him close, my heart racing as our bodies connected fully. He responded instantly, shifting his weight to press against me, the heat between us palpable, electric. The urgency returned, and our kisses grew deeper, more frantic, as if we were both trying to lose ourselves in one another.

"Look at me." he breathed out a deep groan as his lips pulled away from mine, his forehead resting on mine. The rising and falling of his chest echoed against my own as he cupped my jaw and made me look at him. I arched my back and dragged myself across every inch of him as he pulled back and then pushed into me slowly, but hard at the same time.

Loving the feeling of him inside of me, I wrapped my arms around his tense back and scored my nails across his skin with each deep stroke he rolled his length inside me with. His breath was rushing out of his mouth with every plunge of his length, and I moaned at the feel of him.

I arched my hips, moving them in sync with his movement, savoring the pleasure he gave me slowly. My thighs, stomach, and core tightened with every lift of my hips and every clench of myself taking him deeper.

"Oh... fuck." I gasped into his mouth that hovered over mine, my nails digging into his lower back and I pushed up whilst he thrusted into me once again. His breath hissed out and he lifted his hands above my head and held onto my sheets tight as he rocked himself further into me, each inch stroking my sensitive sex from the inside out. "It feels... so good." I moaned quietly, my hips arching and grinding against him as he kept moving, his pace never changing.

With a sudden boldness, I pushed him back slightly, flipping us so that I was straddling him again, the power shift igniting a new wave of exhilaration within me. I looked down at him, my breath quickening at the sight of his eyes filled with surprise and delight. “Now it’s my turn.” I declared, my voice low and sultry.

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that reverberated through me. “I like the sound of that.”

I leaned down, capturing his lips with mine again, but this time, I took my time, kissing him slowly, teasingly, savoring the way he responded to every touch. My hands roamed over his chest, feeling the dips of his muscles beneath my fingertips, and I couldn’t help but smile at how powerful this felt.

Matt’s hands found my waist, guiding me as I continued to maintain the momentum we had going. Our connection deepened with each passing moment. Every kiss felt like a promise, every caress a commitment, and I was lost in the whirlwind of it all.

The world outside faded further away, leaving only us and the passion that enveloped us. I could feel his heart racing beneath me, and I knew we were both caught up in this intoxicating dance, every movement a testament to the connection we were forging.

In the heat of the moment, I leaned back slightly, giving him a sultry look that made his breath hitch. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.” I whispered, feeling empowered by the tension that thrummed in the air between us.

His gaze darkened, and I could see the challenge in his eyes. “I think I have an idea.” he replied, his voice low, filled with promise.

With that, I lowered myself against him, my body pressing into his as I felt the heat radiate between us, a force pulling us closer, deeper into each other’s warmth. The fire ignited again, and I lost myself in the moment and to Matt.

As our bodies moved together, the intensity of the moment swelled between us. I could feel every pulse of desire coursing through my veins, and the world outside had completely faded, leaving just the two of us entwined in this passionate embrace. Each kiss grew more urgent, more desperate, as if we were both trying to memorize every sensation, every sound. I could see the intensity in his eyes, a burning desire that mirrored my own, and it sent a wave of exhilaration through me.

Feeling his heat radiating against my skin, sent a thrill through me. He moved with purpose, the tension between us building to an almost unbearable degree, each kiss and caress drawing us closer to the edge.

Every time I sank into him, I felt the weight of our desire, rushing of warmth enveloping me. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves through my body as we pressed against each other, each movement igniting more fire. It was as if we were two bodies, but one soul, lost in the rhythm of our passion.

With a sudden surge of boldness, I leaned down, kissing him fiercely as I felt him shift under me, his hands gripping my waist, guiding me closer. I could feel the heat rising between us, a heady mix of urgency and intimacy that left me breathless.

“Matt…” I gasped, the weight of the moment settling over us. The anticipation hung in the air like a charged storm, ready to burst into something beautiful and raw.

He captured my gaze, a look of fierce determination in his eyes. “Let’s take this together.” he said, his voice low and filled with promise.

With a nod, I felt a rush of excitement and vulnerability. As we moved together, the sensations wrapped around us, every touch igniting sparks of pleasure that shot through my body as we explored the depths of our desire.

As the intensity built, we lost ourselves in each other, our bodies moving in perfect harmony. Every caress, every kiss, pushed us further into bliss, the connection we shared becoming deeper with each passing moment. I felt alive, every nerve ending heightened, the rhythm of our bodies synchronizing in a dance that felt both primal and beautiful.

Matt’s hands roamed my body, exploring every curve, every inch, making me feel cherished and desired. I lost myself in him, the sensations overwhelming, the heat radiating between us sparking a fire that felt as if it would consume us whole.

“Fuck, you’re incredible.” he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he gazed at me, and I felt a rush of warmth at his words, a mixture of exhilaration and vulnerability. “Look at you.”

Matt’s hands gripped my waist, his strength grounding me as he kissed me deeply. With every touch, the air ignited around us, electric and consuming. Then, with a sudden surge of urgency, he shifted, rolling us over so that he was on top, his weight pressing down on me in the most exhilarating way. The change sent a thrill of excitement through me, the feeling of him above me only amplifying the heat that radiated between us. I could see the fire in his eyes, the mix of desire and something deeper, and it made my heart race. He leaned down, capturing my lips in a fervent kiss, and I could feel the intensity of our connection deepen, becoming something raw and beautiful.

“God, you’re amazing.” he murmured against my mouth, his voice low and filled with need as he began to move against me, each thrust igniting more heat between us. I could feel the way he filled me, the sensations cascading through my body, pushing me closer to the edge.

As he leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along my neck, I lost myself in the moment, surrendering to the pleasure building within me. His body pressed into mine, the heat radiating from him sending shivers down my spine. Every movement felt like a dance, a rhythm that drew us closer together.

He worked me slowly but deeply, as each of his strokes were hitting spots inside me that I never knew I had and my toes were curling pleasurably as he did so. Our bodies were slick with sweat, our kisses were messy and rushed, but together we continued to move, our bodies in tandem with the pleasure each of us caused the other.

I cried out at the pleasure of him taking me, myself clenching at him pulling out only to push back in harder than before, stealing my breath right out of my lungs. Matt's breath caught on a muffled groan as he rubbed himself across every inch of me from the inside, the pleasure of it was so fierce and so consuming that I could barely breathe throughout it. My nerves were on sensory overload, each touch added to the pressure building inside of me, the threat of another intense orgasm looming as he continued moving.

My eyes fell closed and I bit my lip. Sweat misted my hairline and heat flushed across my body that was molded tightly against his, as he continued to push inside me at the same pace. My stomach coiled, my hips tenses, and my legs trembled as he rolled his hips and changed the angle of his thrusts.

"Eyes, baby..." Matt husked into my ear just as he turned to look at me, his jaw clenched tight and his eyes staring into mine intensely. His hands reached for mine and he pulled them above my head holding them down, with our fingers now intertwined together. "Watch what we do to each other." he panted, his voice making my body shiver against his as I threw my head back and moaned.

"Yes." I gasped, my body tight with anticipation. The pleasurable ache inside me doubled with the roll of Matt's hips aligning to my center, his body creating a burning fire within me that was ready to combust at any given moment. "Don't stop." I moaned against his mouth, as I stared into his eyes which bored into mine as our bodies moved against each other's hard, but slow.

We moved together, the intensity building with each passing moment, every kiss deepening our connection. I could feel us teetering on the edge, the anticipation electric, and I surrendered completely to the moment, ready to embrace whatever came next, together.

“Matt,” I gasped, feeling myself about to snap. My fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he began to kiss the length of my neck. “I can’t–”

He looked down at me, his gaze dark and filled with desire, and I could see the determination in his eyes. With every thrust, he pushed me closer to the brink, building a tension that felt like it could burst at any moment.

“Let go.” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “I’ve got you.”

And with those words, I surrendered completely to the sensations swirling within me. As he continued to move, the pleasure built higher, each pulse sending shockwaves through my body. I felt the world around me blur, the only thing anchoring me was the feeling of him above me, lost in this moment we had created together.

Matt grunted a curse, my name spilling from his lips as he continued to massage his length against the sensitive walls of my sex that trembled against him, as he kept the same pace over and over. Our mouths pressed against each other as we kissed feverishly as the rise of each of our orgasms came at a frightening speed. Every nerve felt alive, and I couldn’t hold back any longer. He held me close, his body pressing down as I felt the waves of pleasure roll over me, the connection between us deepening even further. I could see the satisfaction in his eyes as he guided me through it, and the intensity of the moment wrapped around us like a warm embrace. The shower of pleasure cracked against us so hard that the moment he felt me convulse around him, his own release followed seconds later. 

I came with a whispered cry of his name, as I had surrendered to the tide of ecstasy that enveloped me. My entire body shivered as I watched and felt him tense within me and slow his thrusts, as we rode out our highs together with every part of our bodies pressed intimately and our eyes locked onto each other's.

As the waves began to subside, I pulled him closer, my body still tingling with the remnants of pleasure as I spiraled into bliss. Our foreheads rested against each other and our eyes were closed as we breathed in and out heavily. We were entwined, our breaths mingling as we settled into the afterglow, the weight of the moment hanging in the air between us. The both of us were rocked to our cores by the intensity of what we had just shared.

Matt leaned down, capturing my lips again softly, and I melted into him, feeling cherished and alive. It was more than just a physical relationship; it was a bond that felt deeper than anything I had ever experienced. Then he said something so softly in my ear, that I almost missed it before I crashed into a deep slumber.

“I’m so thankful for you.”

fin.

[stylesclarified]

Harry Styles & Drugs: A Debunk

Lately, Harry’s second and third fandoms (you decide which is which) have been disgustingly claiming that he’s some sort of drug addict. In fact, since Liam passed away, fans of Zayn and Louis (and so-called “OT5” fans) have been repeating these accusations over and over.

Setting aside the fact that accusing someone of struggling with drug issues isn’t an insult or a reflection of their morality, these claims are simply ridiculous and have zero basis in reality. So, let’s debunk them.

Disclaimer: Harry Styles is a grown man none of us have ever met, with money and access to all kinds of excess. I’m not here to claim he’s completely sober or some innocent child—that’s not what this post is about.

What has Harry said about drugs?

If we go in chronological order, the first time Harry ever mentioned drugs was as a joke during a press conference One Direction gave for their movie in 2013. A journalist said, "Everything about you is positive—your lyrics, your energy," to which Harry interrupted with, "Apart from my drug tests. They’re all negative."

That’s obviously a joke, but I thought we’d start with some lighthearted humor. In reality, the first time he really addressed this kind of topic was in his first Rolling Stone profile in 2017:

“People romanticize places they can’t get to themselves. That’s why it’s fascinating when people go dark—when Van Gogh cuts off his ear. You romanticize those people, sometimes out of proportion. It’s the same with music. You want a piece of that darkness, to feel their pain but also to step back into your own [safer] life. I can’t say I had that. I had a really nice upbringing. I feel very lucky. I had a great family and always felt loved. There’s nothing worse than an inauthentic tortured person. ‘They took my allowance away, so I did heroin.’ It’s like—that’s not how it works. I don’t even remember what the question was.”

Essentially, he’s explaining that he doesn’t see himself as tortured or dark. He considers himself lucky and loved. Of course, this doesn’t mean that someone like him couldn’t fall into addiction, but it certainly acts as a mitigator.

In August 2019, his second Rolling Stone interview came out. He was shadowed by Rob Sheffield for several months, and they discussed a bit of everything. This was the first time he talked openly about taking drugs.

Psychedelics have started to play a key role in his creative process. “We’d do mushrooms, lie down on the grass, and listen to Paul McCartney’s Ram in the sunshine,” he says. “We’d just turn the speakers into the yard.” The chocolate edibles were kept in the studio fridge, right next to the blender. “You’d hear the blender going, and think, ‘So we’re all having frozen margaritas at 10 a.m. this morning.’” He points to a corner: “This is where I was standing when we were doing mushrooms and I bit off the tip of my tongue. So I was trying to sing with all this blood gushing out of my mouth. So many fond memories, this place.” It’s not mere rock-star debauchery — it’s emblematic of his new state of mind. You get the feeling this is why he enjoys studios so much. After so many years making One Direction albums while touring, always on the run, he finally gets to take his time and embrace the insanity of it all. “We were here for six weeks in Malibu, without going into the city,” he says. “People would bring their dogs and kids. We’d take a break to play cornhole tournaments. Family values!” But it’s also the place where he has proudly bled for his art. “Mushrooms and Blood. Now there’s an album title.”

A few months later, in November 2019, he did a lengthy interview with Zane Lowe where he discussed the drug use he had first talked about in the Rolling Stone profile.

Just a heads-up—this interview is very conversational. He starts by saying that he doesn’t do drugs or even drink while touring:

"I think part of the thing with, like, the mushrooms thing for me is like—I never do anything when I'm working. I don't even drink when I'm working, if I'm touring or anything. I don't drink really, at all."

This is a sentiment he would go on to repeat multiple times in later interviews and as late as 2022/2023. He then explained that he didn’t do drugs at all while he was in One Direction:

"And when I was in the band, it was like—to me, it felt like it was so much bigger than any of us, that I kind of felt like, 'I'm not gonna be the one who fucks it up.' (…) I'm not gonna be the guy who messes it up, so I was like, 'I'm not gonna do any of that stuff.'"

This is something Louis would later confirm, by the way, but let’s keep going with the interview. He then said that when he went solo, he felt free to experiment:

-

Harry: So, I was like, 'Now [in his solo career] is the time in my life when you probably go out and experiment, and do this, and take this, and do that.' Zane: Cause it's on your shoulders. Harry: Yeah. And that's what you do with your friends. (...) Making this record felt like—I just felt so much more joyous. And I was with my friends, and we were in Malibu. Zane: Safe! Harry: Yeah, I felt so safe. It was like, 'If I want to take some mushrooms, I'm gonna take some mushrooms.' Like, now's the time to have fun. Like, we're in Malibu. I'm 24 [years old]. I'm also in music. I'm not, like... D'you know? It's like— Zane: You're not gonna be the first musician to experiment in that environment. Harry: I'm not, like, a politician. I don't think it's that crazy.

-

It kind of feels like he's defending himself a little bit. In my opinion, Harry seems to be a bit judgmental of himself. In the past, he’s also expressed discomfort about people knowing he had sex. He’s said things like, "Tweet as if your grandma was gonna read it," and he sometimes apologizes for swearing (which, to this day, he does quite sparingly). Being constantly analyzed by such a huge audience since he was 16 and criticized for every move he made probably didn’t help, but I have a feeling it’s also a bit inherent to him—that sense of needing to meet some unrealistic or unnecessary standard for his audience.

Zane then asks him if he enjoyed it, to which Harry replies:

"My thing with drugs is—if you're taking anything to escape, or to try and hide from stuff, then you shouldn't even drink. And if you're taking anything to, like, have fun and be creative, then great. Making an album, you obviously get so in your head, and so self-conscious about everything. You hit these bumps in the road, where you're kind of thinking, 'Is this good enough? Is this enough? Is that enough?' And there's like an afterflow of some of that stuff where—sometimes you take something, and then for ten days after, you're like, 'Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna be fine.' It's kind of stress-relieving in a sense."

So far, he’s saying that he didn’t experiment until after he left One Direction (so he was at least 22 years old), and that he uses substances sparingly, surrounded by friends, in a safe environment, and recreationally for creative purposes—mainly to get out of his own head when he’s stuck. He only mentions mushrooms and edibles but it’s implied that there may be other substances involved (presumably weed, maybe LSD, nothing too heavy, at least in what he says).

He also seems pretty aware of the dangers of taking substances, which shows not only maturity but also that he’s surrounded by the kind of environment that helped him stay cautious.

A few months after this interview (March 2020), he did another lengthy one, this time with Howard Stern. In this interview, he talked about drug use again and expanded a little bit on it. Howard asked him how he felt taking them, clarifying that he had taken them himself in the 70s. Harry replied with, "What did they do to you?" and Howard said they made him giggle and gave him a happy, overall good feeling. To which Harry said:

-

Harry: Yeah, kind of the same. I never take them if I’m in a weird place. I feel like you wanna go at them as, like, a fun, creative thing rather than, like, 'Oh, I don’t wanna be in the real world, so I’m gonna take something.' Howard: Did it help you write? Most people describe writing music as really hard because of the business pressure but also the creative pressure. Is it like a stress relief? Harry: That’s a big part of it for me, I found. A lot of the time, you get so in your head about writing songs. As you’re writing songs, you finish a verse and go, 'Is this good? Is this good enough?' And you don’t know. You just started it. For me, a big part of it is getting out of my own head. And I feel like whenever I’m trying to write good music is usually when I write the worst music—or at least my least favorite music.

-

In this same interview, he expanded on the tongue-biting incident he alluded to in the Rolling Stone one:

-

Howard: And when you recorded the album, you bit a piece of your tongue off? How did you do that? I've never done that.

Harry: Well, the aforementioned mushrooms were in play. I jumped out a window. Howard: Why did you jump out a window?

Harry: I was high.

Howard: Did you think it'd be cool to jump out a window?

Harry: I don't know that I thought it'd be cool...

Howard: What were you thinking?

Harry: I don't know. So, I jumped out a window, and I hit my chin on my knee. And I bit like, the end of my tongue off.

Howard: And has it grown back? What happened?

Robyn: Grown back? What is he, a snake?

Harry: What I would say is, when I was a kid I had like, a speech impediment. And sometimes, if I'm really tired, I can feel my mouth get lazy, and I get like a small lisp, and... it's gone. Bit the little extra bit off.

Howard: And when you recorded the album was there blood gushing out of—

Harry: It was bleeding quite heavily at the time. Robyn: What do you do about a bitten tongue? Harry: It wasn't a lot—it was like, a little bit [of his tongue]. It was pretty painful, but it's okay now.

-

I'm including this bit because I’ve seen quite a few people talk about this incident like it’s some sort of drug-fueled nightmare, as if Harry was completely off the rails. In reality, he did a stupid thing while high—like almost every other twentysomething at some point. You don’t even need to be high to pull this kind of idiocy; plenty of drunk (and sober!) people do things just as reckless.

What’s particularly interesting is that many of the fans who criticize Harry for the tongue incident are the same ones who support Louis—who, let’s not forget, broke his arm so badly he needed surgery and a cast for weeks because he decided to run while drunk (and, presumably, also high). And Louis did this at almost 31, in the middle of promoting his album, when he had to perform and do scheduled fan signings. Harry was 24 and on a break. Neither incident is that big of a deal, at the end of the day, they only hurt themselves, but if I had to choose which one was worse...

Interestingly, in this same interview, Harry also alluded to one of the reasons he managed to avoid using cocaine when he was younger. Here it is:

-

Howard: I didn't understand that part of your life where you were on The X Factor, you got famous, you were in the band—One Direction—you guys had hit songs. It's all blowing up and everything, but yet, you moved in with James Corden's manager or something.

Harry: Yeah, his executive producer.

Howard: What's that guy's name?

Harry: Ben Winston.

Howard: You're good friends with James, right?

Harry: Yeah.

Howard: He seems like a decent guy. I've had him on the show a few times.

Harry: Yeah, couple times, right?

Howard: And James's manager and you become friends, and instead of you saying, "Hey, I'll go live in a hotel," or, "I've got some money now—I can certainly get my own place," you moved into this guy's attic. What the fuck was going on there? What were you thinking? Were you lonely and you wanted to be around this guy?

Harry: I was just really tight with money, and I didn't wanna get a hotel.

Howard: No, but seriously. I would think—was that just you trying to hold on to something normal?

Harry: Well, Ben was making a documentary with the band, and we'd met a couple of times. He tells the story about me asking to move in with him, and I cannot believe that I would have the gall to ask him after only spending a couple of days with him, so I'm pretty sure he offered. But I was moving—I’d got a house in his area, like five minutes from his place, and I'd moved out from my last place. I basically had, like, two weeks where I was gonna do some painting and stuff in the house, and the painting turned into ripping the insides out—the full thing. So, I moved in for a planned two weeks, and I'd never met his wife. We'd met for coffee just so I'd met her and stuff. And yeah, two weeks just turned into eighteen months.

Howard: So you turned to the wife and you go, "Listen, I'm gonna move into your attic"? Here you are in a big band, One Direction, you're a success, and you're living in some dude's attic.

Harry: So I lived in the little suburbs, yeah. It was great. When I moved in, they'd only just recently moved in. There was nothing really in the attic, so I just kind of took my mattress from my flat and threw it on the floor in the attic. And I had that for about—maybe like nine months—and then I actually got a bed. It was great. I feel like for me, it was probably the best move I've ever made. I'd moved away from my family, so I had, like, some feeling of family. We never really talked about work. So, I'd go and play, like, a show in Brazil and come home and sit and watch TV with them. And if I was ill—

Howard: And you didn't feel uncomfortable? And if you were ill, they would take care of you?

Harry: No. [He didn’t feel uncomfortable.] Yeah, if I was ill and they were working, Ben's mum would come around and bring me some soup.

Howard: Well, people are really nice to you. I had the complete opposite life. When I was sick, nobody took care of me. And no one was letting me in their attic, I'm telling you.

Harry: I feel also—I'd moved to London, I was in the band, we're traveling, and suddenly, there's no rules. And even as simple as—they have a Kosher house, so I'd moved in and didn't really get it. And the first week, I ordered a pepperoni pizza. And they made me sit on the bench outside to eat it. So, I'm sitting outside, and it was freezing cold, and I was like, "I don't think I'm gonna be able to eat bacon while I'm here."

Howard: Maybe you were desirous—I mean, I'm getting psychological here—but maybe you were desirous of—now that you could have anything you wanted in the world, in a sense—you had money, you had fame, there were women, there's all kinds of… whatever you want—here were people willing to set up rules and say no to you.

Harry: Yeah. And I think—some of them were their rules, and some of them were self-enforced. I moved in with them right at the time when I started going out in London and drinking, and you could go into bars and little members' clubs and get hammered, and then go home. I think so many of those parties in London, there's like that 2 AM cut-off where half the party goes upstairs to do cocaine, and half of them leave. And you're thrown into this thing, and I'm like, "I don't know his wife well enough to go back off my face, so I should go home." You know? I feel like it was probably the best thing that ever happened to me.

-

Harry is being extremely frank about the fact that he likely faced a lot more temptation and may have even found it impossible to stick to his self-promise to not "be the guy that fucks it up" if he hadn't had Ben and Meredith’s support system.

Despite the fact that Harry is explicitly clear about not doing drugs while in 1D, why he made that decision, and even the key reason he was able to stick to it, a lot of people still analyze the size of his pupils in pictures (particularly in very dark photos) to decide he’s lying and was actually a cokehead. Or they use the fact that he went out clubbing and got drunk as proof. Essentially, it's based on absolutely nothing but vibes and a shoddy understanding of biology.

I’m strictly talking about the 1D era here because he states it as a fact: no drugs while in 1D. And yet, people affirm he did it anyway.

He fully admits that he started experimenting once he went solo. In fact, without mentioning drugs specifically, he touched on how he felt free after going solo in his Better Homes & Gardens interview in 2022:

Styles said he often spent interviews terrified about saying the wrong thing until he stopped to question what abhorrent belief or bizarre opinion he was scared he'd accidentally reveal and realized he couldn't think of anything. He thought about how, when good things happened—say, a No. 1 album—he wouldn't feel happy, just relieved. And he thought about the cleanliness clauses in the contracts he used to sign, which would dictate that they would be null and void if he did anything supposedly unsavory, and about how terrified that used to make him. And about when he signed his solo contract and learned that the ability to make music would not be affected by personal transgressions, he burst into tears, a reaction he still seemed shocked by, retelling it to me now, years later. "I felt free," he explained.

This is a sentiment he has been expressing for years. Here’s another excerpt from his 2019 Rolling Stone interview:

It’s strange to hear him talk about shedding his anxieties and doubts, since he’s always come across as one of the planet’s most confident people. “While I was in the band,” he says, “I was constantly scared I might sing a wrong note. I felt so much weight in terms of not getting things wrong. I remember when I signed my record deal and I asked my manager, ‘What happens if I get arrested? Does it mean the contract is null and void?’ Now, I feel like the fans have given me an environment to be myself and grow up and create this safe space to learn and make mistakes.”

So yes, as a fully grown adult in the entertainment industry—after spending his late teens and early twenties terrified that he'd do or say the wrong thing—he experimented with drugs once he went solo.

He’s openly admitted to using shrooms and edibles. As for weed, he specifically said he doesn’t do it (from the same Howard Stern interview as before):

-

Howard: You don't do weed, though? You drink a little, you do shrooms? Harry: No. [He doesn't like weed.] I drink a little bit—I don't drink a lot. Weed makes me tired, and I don't like smoking. And I don't do mushrooms all the time, just to be clear. I don't do 'em when I'm working or anything

-

So, he's tried it, but he doesn’t like it. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Harry has also been very clear about being completely sober while on tour. He first mentioned this in his 2022 interview with Zane Lowe.

"I'm pretty strict while I'm on tour anyway. I don't drink and I go straight to sleep and all of that kind of stuff. Kind of the opposite of what everyone thinks I'm doing after a show."

He expanded on it in his second Howard Stern interview a couple of weeks later.

-

Howard: You make sure that you get a minimum of 10 hours of sleep while touring, and I thought you would have a perspective on this. When you read about rockstars and the excess of the past—like, guys would go on tour, they're banging everything they meet, they're staying up all night. You know, you read about the legendary parties, like Led Zeppelin, The Who. Can you imagine how a lead singer could get through a tour doing all of that crazy crap? It's not possible. You're young, and you need that 10 hours of sleep.

Harry: Yeah, I mean, I just can't do it. Drinking and stuff just dehydrates my voice so much, you know? It'd be really freeing if I could have a night out and then do a show the next day, but I just can't. And I think knowing that I can't is just easier. I did it once, and it was my least favorite show I've ever done, because I felt like it was so bad. And I feel like, even on the run of shows that you do, I feel like you owe it to whoever's coming. Even if it's our 40th show, 90th show, or whatever, I think it's—for most people in the audience, it's the first show. So it kinda feels like, if that's the sacrifice I have to make, I'm kind of okay with it.

-

And then he said it again later that same year in his third Rolling Stone cover interview.

Styles has found himself enamored with routine on the road: 10 hours of sleep a night, IV injections pumping him with nutrients and vitamins, a strict acid-reflux-conscious diet that cuts out coffee, alcohol, and certain foods that affect the throat 50,000 fans are depending on. Last night, he slept with two humidifiers that apparently made it look like he was stepping out of a steam room when he opened his hotel-room door.

The one show he mentioned on Stern (which I also pointed out in my Fine Line analysis) is likely his DC show in 2018. This means that, since going solo, the man went out before a show exactly once. We don't know when he cut off drinking, coffee, and all that, of course, but it seems like he's been health-conscious from the start, with his mindfulness growing as time went on.

The fact that he spends weeks, even months, at a time not drinking a drop of alcohol, not going out, not doing drugs (and he explicitly stated multiple times that he doesn't do mushrooms while working), kind of completely eradicates the idea that he could be addicted to literally anything.

Addicts can't just stop cold turkey for months at a time. They're dependent on the substance.

What some of these people will argue: "He's probably just lying." How does that even make sense? He offered the information. All of it. The mushrooms, the edibles, the drinking, the not drinking, the 10 hours of sleep—everything. He brought it up every single time. He didn't have to. He chose to.

This is a man who will waffle about the weather for an hour to avoid saying something he doesn't want to say. He didn't stumble into revealing this information. He decided he was comfortable sharing it, so he did. Which probably means he doesn't have anything to hide on this topic—otherwise, why the fuck would he bring attention to it in the first place?

What have other people said about Harry and drugs?

Because these idiots refuse to believe his own word, spoken frankly, live on camera, let's hear what other people have said.

This is what Ben Winston, who, remember, hosted him in his attic for 18 months between the ages of 18 and 20, said in 2017:

You wonder how a young musician might find his way here, to these lofty peaks, with his head still attached to his shoulders. No sex tapes, no TMZ meltdowns, no tell-all books written by the rehab nanny? In a world where one messy scandal can get you five seasons of a hit reality show …  how did Harry Styles slip through the juggernaut? “Family,” answers Ben Winston. “It comes from his mom, Anne. She brought him and his sister up incredibly well. Harry would choose boring over exciting … There is more chance of me going to Mars next week than there is of Harry having some sort of addiction.”

That is a BOLD thing to say. And to be clear, I disagree. I don’t have to have met Harry to know that anyone can fall into addiction. No one is exempt. We should all be extremely respectful of substances for this very reason.

It’s obvious Harry has a good head on his shoulders. He’s explicitly brought up not using substances as an escape multiple times. He has a loving family, a strong support system of older, more settled friends who have offered him a home when he’s away from home, and a mindset that prioritizes health and professionalism. The fact that he actively chose therapy, that he wants to stay healthy, that he takes his work seriously—all of these things are mitigating factors. They reduce the risk, but the risk is never zero. And that’s something worth acknowledging.

That said, the fact that his then 36-year-old friend—who had been in the industry for decades and had lived with him—said that? That’s incredibly telling.

But you know what else is telling? You know who else has commented on Harry’s relationship with drugs?

The one and only Louis Tomlinson.

HARRY STYLES’S admission about biting the tip of his tongue off during a mushroom trip came as a ‘surprise’ to Louis — as he was always the one being told off for being One Direction’s tearaway stoner. Recalling his days of hedonism, Louis proudly boasted he is actually the natural born rebel who has done his ‘fair bit’ of sex, drugs and rock’n’roll. ‘I am not going to lie. I was pretty surprised to see the whole mushroom thing with Harry. I always used to get told off for smoking joints,’ he said. ‘But anyway… there are some people who want to be known as that guy — wild, crazy, whatever… there are some people that just are.’

I know his fans will do everything in their power to pretend they don’t understand what he’s saying here, but he’s being extremely clear. He was the wild one. He was the one who partied and did drugs. Not Harry.

In fact, he’s taking a subtle jab—"some people who want to be known as..."—implying that Harry’s mushroom story isn’t true or is at least exaggerated. That Harry is saying it because he wants to be seen that way, whereas Louis actually was that way. There’s no other reasonable interpretation of his words.

On the other hand, he’s also claiming that he was “told off” for smoking weed. Why would he bring that up while expressing his surprise that Harry admitted to doing shrooms? Why else, if not because he felt judged by Harry?

Now, go back to what Harry said about “not wanting to be the one who fucks it up.” It aligns perfectly.

You know what else aligns perfectly?

In May 2014, a video of Louis and Zayn smoking weed while on tour in South America was leaked. It quickly sparked controversy. At the time, weed wasn’t legal in most places and was still seen as taboo. On top of that, 1D had a very young audience and was touring through several conservative countries, so it actually was a big deal.

The Philippines, in particular, made a fuss. So did Peru (where the video was filmed). There was even talk about them being banned from the U.S.

After the leak, The Sun published this:

There’s no way to actually read the story because, as I’ve said before, in late 2014, The Sun revamped their website. In the process, they deleted most of their older articles and added a paywall.

For articles published before 2014, you can usually find archived versions in the Wayback Machine. But for articles from 2014 itself? This is what you get:

We can still find other articles that echo the story, thankfully. Here’s Arizona Central citing it:

The One Direction hunk's bandmates were captured on film joking about smoking marijuana as they passed around a suspicious-looking roll-up cigarette as they were reportedly being taken to Peru's Estadio Nacional in Lima on April 27, and Harry is said to be unimpressed by their antics, which were reportedly filmed on Louis' phone. A source told The Sun newspaper: ''Harry is annoyed about the whole debacle. This should be one of the biggest weeks of the band's career with the launch of their U.K. stadium tour. ''Instead it has been taken over by this controversy. Harry thinks it was a stupid and reckless thing for Louis to allow to be filmed in the first place.'' The footage emerged Wednesday while the group are in the midst of the U.K. leg of their 'Where We Are Tour' and the remaining members of One Direction - Harry, Niall Horan and Liam Payne - were not present in the short clip. Harry has distanced himself from their behavior and has even been traveling separately to his bandmates since he isn't ''into these antics''. The insider added: ''Despite Harry's reputation, he's incredibly professional and mature, and not into these sorts of antics.''

Louis: "I was told off for smoking a joint."

Harry: "I was scared about saying or doing the wrong thing. I didn't want to be the one to fuck up the band, so I stayed away from all of it."

The Sun: "Harry was annoyed that Louis and Zayn were going to fuck up the band."

Larries will, of course, act like this was some kind of elaborate scheme planned half a decade in advance and that, actually, Harry was smoking weed right alongside Zouis! The proof? That he stood next to them and smiled.

(Literally. They used to post pictures of Harry/Zayn/Louis smiling in each other's vicinity, even if they weren't interacting, as "evidence" that all was good.)

And, of course, Harry tweeting lyrics that seemed to maybe allude to what happened.

The video leaked the next day, and they’d surely been given a heads-up. And after the part that Harry tweeted, the lyrics go, “and then we'll take it higher.” So, yeah, it’s very possible this was an allusion to that. I wouldn’t say it’s conclusive, but possible? Sure.

Does that mean he was okay with it? Ummmm, no? He could’ve been extremely frustrated and still tweeted that. There’s literally no correlation whatsoever. What was he gonna do? Bash their heads in with a hammer? Never smile in their direction again? He probably yelled a little, threw some stuff around, and dropped it. It was out of his control, and it wasn’t his responsibility.

The fact that, all those years later, Louis was still upset about it is just ridiculous. Harry had every right to be annoyed at their carelessness. The man spent five years terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing, getting scolded for the most innocuous stuff. He probably felt an even greater share of the pressure to not mess up because of the level of attention he got. And then two of his bandmates just… film themselves smoking weed—for absolutely no reason—and it leaks. I think anyone would be frustrated.

I don’t think Harry would’ve told them off for smoking weed in general. I seriously doubt it. Harry literally went to parties where people were doing cocaine at 2 AM—he said that outright. I can't picture a 19-year-old Harry getting on his bandmates' case about this kind of thing. But I do absolutely believe he was pissed off about how stupid it was to film themselves doing it. And honestly, he had every right to be.

But ANYWAY, Louis, in his attempt to throw shade at Harry, actually validated everything Harry said.

What do Harry's lyrics say about drugs?

Harry has alluded to drugs or drug use in at least three songs, possibly four, depending on interpretation.

The first one is Kiwi, from his self-titled debut album:

It's New York, baby, always jacked up (Hey) Holland Tunnel for a nose, it's always backed up When she's alone, she goes home to a cactus (Uh) In a black dress, she's such an actress

It's a beautiful turn of phrase, I have to say. The allusion to drug use in Kiwi is almost judgmental. It's certainly not about Harry himself, but rather about a woman he's heavily criticizing. He even subtly calls her stupid.

The only other song on this first album where he alludes to another substance is Meet Me In The Hallway, where he says "give me some morphine." But morphine is generally not used as a recreational drug—it's typically used for pain relief in terminal cancer patients.

Harry’s stepdad, Robin, was struggling with an advanced form of cancer when he wrote this album. Harry confirmed that another song, Ever Since New York, was about finding out bad news about a family member. Additionally, the back cover of the album features a robin bird in his honor, which is the same bird Gemma, Harry’s sister, would later get tattooed.

My guess has always been that MMITH was about Robin’s fight with cancer, which he would ultimately lose in June 2017 (a month after the album was released).

There are also no allusions to drugs in Fine Line. People have tried to claim that Watermelon Sugar is about drugs, but, uh, no. It’s about cunnilingus. Harry has been extremely clear about that. The word "high" in the song is not referring to drugs. It’s a play on "sugar high," as in hyperglycemia... literally, high blood sugar. He’s saying her pussy is so sweet that he got a sugar high.

The other allusions to drugs are in Harry’s House, two of which are explicit, and one that a lot of people believe is there, but I personally don’t think it is.

The first one (second overall) is in Daylight:

I'm on the roof You're in your airplane seat I was nose-bleedin' Looking for life out there Readin' your horoscope You were just doing cocaine in my kitchen You never listen I hope you're missing me by now

He's not the one doing cocaine in this allusion. He’s noting that she is doing cocaine in his kitchen. Of course, it's still an allusion to drugs. Some people connect him saying "I was nose-bleeding" to her doing cocaine because cocaine use can sometimes cause nosebleeds.

However, I think he's just using clever wording. "Nosebleeds" are also the seats at the highest point in a concert or sporting venue. If he's on the roof, then he’s literally "nose-bleeding." It’s possibly referring to both—her drug use and the literal nosebleed seats.

The second allusion (third overall) is in Keep Driving:

Passports in foot wells Kiss her and don't tells Wine glass, puff pass Tea with cyborgs Riot America Science and edibles Life hacks going viral in the bathroom Cocaine, side boob Choke her with a sea view Toothache, bad move Just act normal Moka pot Monday It's all good Hey, you

What does it mean? Who the hell knows. Is he the one doing the cocaine? Maybe. Maybe it's the owner of the sideboob. Maybe the owner of the sideboob is the same woman who was doing cocaine in his kitchen.

That's the thing: since we don’t know exactly who these songs are about, we can’t say for sure that he's not writing about a specific person who has a particular habit that, in some way, affected their relationship. It's not only possible, it's likely.

The third possible allusion (fourth overall) would be in Satellite:

You got a new life Am I bothering you? Do you wanna talk? We share the last line Then we drink the wall till we wanna talk

Some people interpret “we share the last line” as a reference to the last line of cocaine. Is it possible that he's referring to it? Yes, absolutely.

I personally am not convinced, not because I don't think he does cocaine (I'll get to that), but because I think this song is about Olivia Wilde, and I don’t really see Harry and Olivia making a habit out of sharing lines of coke. It's certainly not impossible, but I find it unlikely.

Why do I think this song is about Olivia? Well, Harry mentioned the different stages in which he wrote Harry's House. The first part was in Shangri-La in May/June 2020 (Malibu, CA), then in Real World in the fall of 2020 (Bath, England), followed by sessions at Henson and The Cave Studios in late 2020/early 2021 (Los Angeles, CA) during breaks from filming Don't Worry Darling. The final part took place in Angelic Studios and Rob Stringer's living room in Oxford in the spring of 2021 (near London).

Satellite was recorded in Henson, The Cave, and Angelic Studios, placing the song firmly in the later part of the album's production—when Harry was in LA filming DWD and right before he started filming My Policeman in Brighton.

It only makes sense that if Harry was starting to see someone new at the time, he wrote about it. Olivia had recently separated from her fiancé and the father of her children. The song says both that the person he's singing about has “a new life” and that he “can tell you’re lonely down there.” The juxtaposition of someone having a new life but still feeling lonely fits perfectly with someone who just ended a long-term relationship and is perhaps hesitant to start a new one. Harry is waiting for her to decide whether to give them a chance.

In that context, and given the fact that Olivia was his director, the interpretation of “share the last line” being about a script rather than cocaine makes more sense to me.

At the end of the day, we don’t know. He could still be talking about cocaine. My interpretation could be wrong, and the song could be about someone else. It's always important to realize that we don’t know him, and everything we say is interpretation.

Bonus: Medicine

Some people believe he's alluding to drugs in this song. I'm sorry, but that's just poor text interpretation. While I always acknowledge that I can't know for a fact if I'm right or wrong about this kind of stuff, I'm willing to bet good money on being right about this.

Medicine is an unreleased song he wrote for his self-titled album that he occasionally sings live, in case anyone is still reading this and living under a rock.

In my opinion, this is a metaphor where he turns on its head the idea that queerness is a disease that needs to be cured. The song seems to explore his own sexuality, where he figures out he's not straight, then accepts it.

“I figured out I kind of like it” and “the boys and the girls are in, I mess around with them, and I’m okay with it” are extremely telling lyrics. He's literally figuring it out and deciding he’s okay with it. It can’t be more on the nose. This isn’t subtext or interpretation.

Saying that being with a man, figuring out he’s into men, etc., is his "Medicine" is simply the opposite of what society told us about homosexuality for centuries. Homosexuality used to be in the DSM-5 (the book that catalogs all types of mental disorders). If you think he’s alluding to drugs here, you're an idiot.

Interpretation

Considering the allusions in his lyrics, do I think Harry has tried cocaine? Most likely. He explicitly mentioned that he started experimenting with new things after going solo.

If he decided to experiment with drugs, then given the industry he's in and how commonplace cocaine is, it’s almost a given that he’s tried it and used it occasionally. It's also likely that he's tried ketamine, particularly since he lives in London.

However, his lyrics are not evidence of addiction or even a regular habit. They’re definitely not evidence of him using crack, as I’ve seen some people claim on Twitter recently. Jesus Christ.

In my opinion, his lyrics seem to reference a specific person in his life who used cocaine. Why do I think that? Because he sings about her doing it in his kitchen—which is a pretty specific and unusual setting. Doing cocaine in a kitchen suggests a heavier habit than just casual partying, and it clearly impacted him enough to write about it

The lyrics of Keep Driving also seem to connect with another unreleased song of his, Make My Day.

I make lots of money, build a big house Put an extra sink in, say I’ll settle down Friends call me a loner, I know they’re wrong She asked me to choke her, I play along

This song suggests that the lyrics of Keep Driving ("choke her with a sea view") might not be as kinky as they're often interpreted, but instead quite sad. They seem to speak of a relationship built around sex, despite Harry wanting something deeper. In my Fine Line lyric analysis, I discuss how this could reflect his relationship with Camille. Whether these songs are specifically about her, I can't say for sure, but it seems possible.

Keep Driving was partially recorded at Shangri-La, which, as I mentioned earlier, indicates it was part of the first batch of songs written in May 2020. The same goes for Daylight. It's entirely possible that Harry was still processing his breakup with Camille at that point, especially since, as far as we know, he hadn’t had a serious relationship since their split two years earlier. It's also possible they're about someoene else we don't know about.

In anu case, I don't think these lyrics suggest that Harry himself is a heavy or even a regular drug user at all.

Difference between mushrooms and cocaine

One thing that really irritated me was people using Harry's admission of taking mushrooms as some sort of evidence that he does cocaine.

There is a HUGE difference between soft drugs, like mushrooms and edibles, and heavy drugs like cocaine. Let’s break it down:

ADDICTION:

Mushrooms and edibles are not physically addictive. This means your body doesn’t develop a chemical dependency on them. While it is possible to develop a psychological dependence, that typically requires frequent, long-term use. For most people, these substances are not a gateway to addiction.

Cocaine, however, is highly addictive. It creates a physical dependency in the body, and this can develop quickly, often without the user even realizing it. Cocaine triggers the brain's reward system in a way that makes it very easy for the body to crave it, leading to both mental and physical addiction.

LIFE RISK:

Mushrooms and edibles generally do not pose a significant threat to your life. Overdosing on them is extremely rare, and even in large quantities, they are not lethal. While they can cause unpleasant experiences, physical danger is minimal.

Cocaine, on the other hand, carries a high risk of overdose and death. Even a single line can be fatal, depending on how it’s cut and what it's laced with (for example, the lethal addition of fentanyl). The risk of accidental overdose with cocaine is significant, and it can have immediate, deadly consequences.

BODILY HARM:

Mushrooms and edibles are generally not harmful to your body. The primary risk is having a bad trip, which is why it's reassuring that Harry mentioned being cautious about his mindset when using them. As long as the user is in a safe, controlled environment, physical harm is unlikely.

Cocaine, however, can cause severe bodily harm. It can lead to heart attacks, strokes, or other serious complications, particularly depending on a person’s genetic predispositions, which may be dormant and undetected. Even a single line, not cut with anything (more) dangerous, can be life-threatening.

LONG-TERM EFFECTS:

Mushrooms and edibles are extremely unlikely to cause long-term damage to your brain cells. For that to happen, you'd have to be a heavy user or careless with how you use them. In general, their effects on the brain are minimal and reversible.

Cocaine, on the other hand, is highly likely to cause long-term damage to your brain cells. Chronic use can lead to cognitive impairment, affecting memory, decision-making, and other mental functions. The more you use, the greater the risk of lasting damage.

LEGALIZATION:

Edibles, being a form of marijuana, have been legalized for both recreational and medicinal use in several countries and states, with more likely to follow suit as the trend grows.

Mushrooms, while not yet fully legalized, have gained increasing acceptance for their medicinal use, particularly in the treatment of mental health conditions, and we may see more progress on this front in the future.

Cocaine, however, is not and will likely never be legalized anywhere due to its highly addictive nature and the severe health risks it poses.

Now, take everything I just explained about cocaine, amplify it by about 1,000, and that’s what crack does to your body and brain. The damage is far more extreme and devastating. So, calling Harry a "crackhead" for doing mushrooms is not just ridiculous—it’s completely out of touch with the reality of what crack actually does to a person.

These are just a few of the key differences. If you honestly believe that Harry sharing a story about tripping on mushrooms is some sort of confession about being a crackhead, you seriously need to do one of two things: grow up and read a few books, or get treatment for those brainworms ASAP.

Stop conflating things. It’s not only ignorant, but it’s also dangerous. Harry has never openly discussed doing cocaine, and he's certainly not glorifying it in his lyrics. The context in which he mentions drugs doesn't equate to promoting harmful substances.

Hypocrisy

What really grinds my gears is the sheer hypocrisy from certain fandoms that have been going on and on about this lately.

If you're a fan of Louis Tomlinson and you’ve decided to use "your fav is a cokehead" as some kind of insult, you’re a fucking asshole. Louis' 18-year-old sister, Félicité, tragically passed away from a cocaine overdose in 2019. How in the world can you use that to try and tear someone else down? What do you think Louis would feel if he saw "cokehead" being used as an insult towards anyone?

And, just to add salt to the wound, let’s not forget that Louis' other sister, Lottie, has had her own struggles with drugs like coke/ketamine..

Understand this: it’s not an insult. A lot of people do drugs recreationally. Sure, it’s dangerous, but if you take precautions, if you do it sparingly, I don’t know… personally, I’d prefer people didn’t, but I’m not here to police anyone’s choices. I don’t see it as a moral failure. You're an adult, and ultimately, it’s your body. Do what you want with it.

But when we’re talking about those who can’t handle it, those who have fallen into addiction… it’s even less of an insult. Addiction isn’t a choice, it’s a mental illness. Have some fucking compassion.

Louis’ friend just died because he was trying to escape through a balcony while incredibly high on multiple drugs. It’s heartbreaking.

In fact, Louis himself seems to have dabbled in heavy drugs, at least occasionally.

In the 2014 weed video that was leaked, Louis repeatedly mentions that they’ve arranged for “chicken in Chile.”

Now, "chicken" is slang for a kilo, specifically in reference to heavy drugs like crack or cocaine. It’s not something you'd use for weed. I really don’t want to link to Urban Dictionary, but the definition of "chicken" as it relates to drugs predates the weed video, so it’s pretty clear.

Some people tried to claim that he was talking about a “chicken” of weed, but that’s just ridiculous. No one calls a kilo of weed “chicken.”

Do I think Louis was planning on going through a whole kilo of cocaine? Absolutely not. A dealer might buy a kilo if they’re selling a lot, but a regular user would have no idea what to do with that much. The typical way of buying cocaine is an eight ball, which is 3.5 grams. A kilo contains around 286 eight balls—like, that’s insane. Unless they were planning on supplying all of Santiago for the weekend...

And it’s not like they could just take a kilo across the border, so it would end up lasting them for a while. For context, a kilo of weed would also be ridiculous. A blunt typically uses about 2 grams, so I highly doubt they were planning on going through 500 blunts in two days.

My guess is that Louis was just joking about the amount. But "chicken" is slang reserved for hard drugs, specifically cocaine or crack. The rapper Future even has an entire song called Chicken where he talks about "that pure 'caine."

The most common drug referred to as chicken is crack, followed by cocaine. I’m leaning towards giving Louis the benefit of the doubt and assuming he meant cocaine here.

As for Zayn, he was celebrating the "chicken in Chile," so...

He’s also known for being a heavy marijuana user, and reports suggest he was even dropped by his label due to the strength and frequency of his usage. While marijuana isn't physically addictive and typically doesn’t cause harm, it can lead to psychological dependence with frequent use. The reports could be inaccurate, of course, but considering the existence of these rumors and the fact that Zayn was let go by his label, it feels a bit hypocritical to be pointing fingers at others for drug use.

In January 2021, he was also caught on an Instagram live at 6 AM, smoking weed and blasting music while his baby was only four months old, and he and Gigi were very much together. While he’s entitled to do whatever he wants, it does seem a bit hypocritical to criticize others for their habits when this kind of behavior is being publicized.

It's also hypocritical because both Louis and Zayn have alluded to heavy drugs in their lyrics.

Zayn's Good Years, for instance:

Too much drugs and alcohol What the hell were we fighting for? 'Cause now the whole damn world will know That we're too numb and just too dumb to change the story Neither one, one of us wants to say we're sorry

This song quite literally references him (and presumably Louis, who this song seems to be about) doing too many drugs. It's pretty straightforward in its message. And considering Zayn's relationship with weed and what it's like to use it, it's extremely unlikely he's referring to weed when he talks about "drugs."

Louis also has an entire song about drugs killing his mind, and he said so explicitly:

"Kill My Mind is a song about having fun and doing silly things when you’re younger. It’s about going through an experimental phase in your youth and doing things that might not be good for you, but they are exciting!"

And he might call it "silly things" but considering the lyrics of Kill My Mind are:

And you hate me, and I want more

I can ease the pain Just a little taste, babe

And ya won't let go of your hold on me

You kill my mind Raise my body back to life And I don't know what I'd do without you now

I'd be concerned if I was a fan of his. He's literally admitting that drugs have a hold on him.

So I ask, once again, what's with the accusatory finger?

Evidence

Is there any evidence that Harry is "a cokehead"? Absolutely not.

Zooming in on his pupils and trying to use that as evidence is poor biology. Harry has green eyes, and big pupils are just a natural characteristic for him. In fact, his pupils are almost fully dilated in many pictures of him as a child:

I mean, these people are even capable of claiming that he was a crackhead when he was 5 months old.

Moreover, many times people zoom in on his pupils in photos taken with flash. In those cases, the background is dark, but the flash temporarily illuminates the scene. This causes his pupils to dilate, as that's just a natural response to low light.

Take this photo, for example, which was taken with flash. The ambiance is completely dark. If his pupils weren’t dilated in this context, that would actually be a more concerning sign of potential drug use, since opioids (such as heroin) cause something called pinpoint pupils.

Also, alcohol can cause dilated pupils as much as cocaine. Stop diagnosing people with a drug addiction over photos of their eyes, fucking Christ.

But let’s take this a step further: Harry is a health-conscious person who recently ran a marathon (42 kilometers) in 3 hours and 24 minutes. That’s almost an hour faster than the average time for an amateur male runner.

It would be physically impossible for him to run a marathon, let alone finish with that time, if he were regularly using heavy drugs.

I’m not exaggerating, and you don’t have to take my word for it. According to River Oaks Treatment Center:

They also say:

Exercise puts additional stress on the cardiovascular system. The combined effects of cocaine and vigorous exercise may be very dangerous, even in athletes who are young and seemingly healthy. Athletes who use cocaine prior to working out may suffer not only heart attacks but stroke, heat stroke, and rhabdomyolysis (a potentially fatal breakdown of the proteins of damaged muscle tissue into the blood).

Let's now cite California Recovery Center:

Cocaine is one of the stimulant drugs that increase energy and alertness. Unfortunately, using this drug can harm an athlete’s health and career in sports. These may include: Physical Effects: Numerous physical effects are harmful to the body, such as increased heart rate and blood pressure, which can reduce endurance and impair performance. It can also cause dehydration which can lead to fatigue and cramping. It can also disrupt sleep, which is essential for athletic recovery and performance.   

An article by ESPN:

"Competitive athletics increases the potential of cocaine's powerful adverse cardiovascular stimulating effects," according to Wadler, "namely, life-threatening abnormal heart rhythms and heart attacks, particularly in cigarette smokers." The list of adverse health effects of cocaine is long and affects many organ systems of the body. These effects include: - Strokes - Convulsions and seizures - Chronic headaches - Tremulousness and twitching - Chronic irritation of nasal membranes including perforation of the nasal septum - Abnormal vision including blindness - Elevated blood pressure and pulse - Sudden death

A regular cocaine user would find it nearly impossible to finish a marathon, let alone complete one with that time. Point blank. If Harry does use cocaine, it would likely be very, very sparingly.

Another thing I've seen is people referencing Harry taking "coke breaks" during his shows because… he goes to the toilet… to pee…

His shows are 90 minutes long. If you think he’s far gone enough to need a bump mid-show, you’re a fucking idiot. That level of addiction is extreme.

He just ran a fucking marathon for over 3 hours. Clearly, he can manage a 90-minute show without needing drugs.

We’ve seen him come back from bathroom breaks with his fly open. I can’t believe I even have to type this down.

The man drinks a gallon of water in front of our eyes. Of course, he needs to pee! Have you ever tried running up and down while having a full bladder? Look at that massive bottle, almost empty. He has several water bottles around the stage.

Harry didn’t just run a marathon in a great time; he’s also incredibly active in other sports. He regularly cycles everywhere, does cold water swimming, pilates, lifts weights, practices yoga, and plays both football (soccer) and tennis. YOU CANNOT DO THAT MUCH PHYSICAL ACTIVITY LONG-TERM IF YOU'RE A COKE ADDICT.

Furthermore, coke addicts typically lose muscle mass and find it difficult to gain muscle. Harry may not be a bodybuilder, but he has a solid amount of muscle with no signs of muscle loss.

Go ahead and look up known cocaine addicts. Take a look at their appearance—there’s one well-known example that you can look up. I won't post photos out of respect.

And I'm going to close with this:

Addiction is very hard to miss. The signs are everywhere if you're paying attention.

Take Liam, for example. He had to cancel his tour because of his addiction and was hospitalized multiple times. His speech became slurred, his jaw would twitch, and his eyes were often unfocused in interviews. His attitudes and behavior were visibly affected, and he openly admitted parts of his struggle.

This is not something to trivialize. It’s disrespectful to addicts and diminishes a very serious issue. Throwing around “your fav is a crackhead” during stan wars is deeply hurtful and low.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 7- Conferences and Wine

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I don't like wine. I don't care much for alcohol in general. I like to keep Reader as blank as possible so people can relate to them but sometimes I need to assign them hobbies and personalities, so apologies if you don't enjoy running and analyzing things!

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

"Hey, Sorry I couldn't-"

You walk right past Corra as she tries to speak to you. Eyes narrowed and only seeing the path ahead. A path without backstabbing bitches. It's been a few weeks since her return and you've done a good job at avoiding her so far. Not even wanting to see her face. She never got the chance to humiliate you but the fact that you said yes to a date in the first place is embarrassing. You have somewhere to be, anyway.

One of the newer grunts walks down the hall towards you. Instead of moving out of his way like you usually would - like he expects of you - you continue on your designated path. Tensing your arm in anticipation. His eyes flash with surprise as you slam into his shoulder.

"Watch where you're going." You snap at him. You're still reeling from the betrayal, and your anger is turning you mean. Well, you reflect, maybe you should be mean. What else have they been doing behind your back? You're weak, and they can smell it.

You broodily stride towards Valeria's office, head and chin raised. You're going to discuss the success of the sugar meth. You have to mentally psyche yourself up for this. That cruel, taunting voice at the back of your head mocks you. Deciding that you failed again without even hearing the news. You tell it to shut up. You reach the wooden door and pull it open without knocking, stepping inside the room. Valeria, Diego, and one of her drug runners are sat around casually.

"Glad you finally decided to join us." Diego remarks dryly. "Try to show up even later next time."

You feel a spike of raw hatred. He was in on it. Looked you in the face multiple times knowing what was happening. "It's only by ten minutes." You reply sharply. Never mind the fact that you've been punctual every other time.

Valeria gestures to a seat next to her and you sit down. Feeling more comfortable near her.

"Tell us how it went." She demands, looking at the dealer.

"A didn't sell that well, no one wanted more, it's a similar story with C, but B sold and even had people coming back for more." He says. "It's still not selling as much as that other crystal. But I think it's getting us back some of our clientele."

You nod, suppressing a smile. Elated and relieved by the good news.

"Good." Valeria replies, leaning back and spreading her legs to get comfortable. She looks at you, a calculating look crossing her features. "If you tweaked the… recipe then maybe it can outsell the other stuff."

You're not sure if that's the way to go.

"How much is it being sold for? The sugar meth." You ask curiously. An idea forming.

"Uh, three-hundred forty-six pesos per gram." One of the dealers reply.

"And the other stuff?" You prod.

"Two-hundred seven per gram." He says, scratching his chin. You look at Valeria, completely ignoring Diego.

"I think we should price match it to the super meth." You say bluntly. Before Valeria can even reply, Diego scoffs.

"Are you serious?" He asks, lips curling into a smile. "'Price match'? This isn't a supermarket, we'd lose money." He says dismissively.

You clench your jaw and ignore Diego's words, he's not the one you have to convince.

Valeria furrows her brows. "… You think that if we lowered the price more people would buy it." She says. "I think that could work."

"We're going to do that?" Diego asks, clearly skeptical. "Patrona, think about this, is that really a good idea?"

You know she's going to scowl before she even does. Brows lowering with irritation. "Quiet." She snaps. "You're not here to second guess me. Do you think I don't know what I'm doing?" She shakes her head. "Idiot."

You also glare at Diego. Valeria knew Diego longer, trusted him enough to run her cartel, and yet she sided with you over him. He makes eye contact with you, and you look away for a second. Flustered slightly.

"I'm just saying, I don't think she knows what she's talking about." He says quietly, trying to soothe Valeria's frayed nerves. You dig your nails into your palms. "Shut the hell up." You snap impulsively, the words spilling from your lips. "Focus on growing some hair before you talk shit. I'm not going to sit here and let a man with a goatee-" You sneer. "-try to shut me down."

The dealer shifts uncomfortably.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Diego stands aggressively. Making you a little nervous.

"An oaf." You retort, despite being nervous.

Diego takes a step towards but is stopped by Valeria.

"Sit down." She growls. "You're not a child unable to ignore schoolyard taunts."

Diego reluctantly sits back down. Stiff with anger. His hand hovers over his glock threateningly.

"So we're going to lower the price?" The dealer asks.

"Yes." Valeria says sternly. Looking at Deigo as if willing him to even try to contradict her. He doesn't. He's learned his lesson and keeps his gaze averted. "Now get out, I have shit to do."

It's like everyone can't get out of the room fast enough. Just as you step foot through the door Valeria calls your name, halting you in your tracks.

"Have a drink with me." She says. Beckoning you closer. Her invite catches you by surprise, but you don't decline. You walk closer and hover near her awkwardly. She gestures towards the chair next to her and stands, opening up a cupboard and looking over a collection of wine.

"I thought you had 'shit' to do?"

"Yes, like drink. Red or white?" She asks you over her shoulder, voice low.

"Um, doesn't matter to me." You answer. Valeria pulls out a bottle of red. Selecting two tall glasses to drink from. She blows into them, clearing out the dust. Valeria sits down next to you.

"I haven't had the time to sit and have a glass of wine in a while." She sighs. Setting the bottle and glasses on the table. She spares you a glance before pouring you and her a glass each. a droplet of the dark red liquid runs down the side of her glass. She collects it with a finger and brings it to her lips.

Valeria hands you your glass and raises her own in cheers before taking a sip.

"Good job." She praises. For all your bravado earlier, you suddenly don't feel very deserving of it.

"Thank you." You smile, taking a sip of your own drink. There's a long silence settling between you two. Valeria regards you, head tilted to the right.

"What do you do when you're not cooking meth for me?" She asks, watching intently. Valeria always has this… lilt to her voice. Like she's always mocking whoever she's speaking to you. You've come to learn that she just sounds like that.

"I like to run." You murmur. Valeria raises a brow at that and crosses one leg over the other.

"Really? Never took you for the athletic type…" She hums, eyes flickering over your body.

"I'm not really, cardio is good for you. Thirty minutes a day can reduce the risk of a heart attack." You explain.

"But do you like running?" She presses. Leaning forward and swirling her drink.

You think about it. About the burn in your throat and lungs, the panting.

"I suppose I do." Your head is so clear when you run. Even the burn feels good after awhile.

"Mhm." Valeria sips her wine. "Is running all you do?" Her voice is teasing.

"Well… I like to write essays… just analyzing stuff I'm interested in, like movies or other topics." You smile awkwardly. Valeria huffs a laugh.

"You enjoy writing essays?" She says disbelievingly. "I'm sure your languages teachers must have loved you."

Your smile softens. "Not when it came to writing formal papers." You shake your head. Of course, nobody finds it easy to write about topics they don't care about. "What about you?" You ask.

"I didn't care much for essays." Valeria flicks her wrist with distaste.

"No, I meant what do you do when you're not running a cartel?" You clarify. What would someone like Valeria enjoy doing?

She pauses and finishes her glass.

"I enjoy smoking good weed." She says. "I like to get high, then paint."

You feel surprised that she does something so… tame. "Are you any good?"

"Sometimes." She shrugs. Valeria leans back, eyes half lidded. "I like to paint people. Capture their faces on a canvas."

You finish your own glass and set it on the table, declining her offer for another cup. You have to drive home. "Painting is a good hobby, I like to analyze paintings as well, my favourites are Jean-Michel Basquiat's pieces."

"Haven't heard of him, painting is more of a casual hobby to me." She says. "My works don't have stories behind them but you're welcome to come over sometime and create one for them. Maybe I could paint you and add your face to my collection."

Her response catches you off guard. It sounds like a genuine invite.

"I'll keep it in mind."

[supernatural-bias]

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬

↳ summary: in between their friends voicemails, and a spanish teachers punishment, troy and abed are struggling to tell you something important. or; a reader insert of season one episode sixteen

↳ warnings: period accurate jokes, internalized homophobia, jeff being weird, and alcohol

↳ notes: abed and troy are in a relationship change my mind

↳ song: me and your mama—childish gambino

masterlist | commisions | carrd

It was early morning, just before first period Spanish, when you finally decided to say something.

“Okay, so I can’t be the only one creeped out by that thing, right?” 

You looked around with a sense of judgement as six pairs of eyes immediately whipped around to meet your own. Taking a moment to observe the flower in Annie's hand, and the box of chocolates in Shirley's, you stopped biting at the end of your pen momentarily to gesture at said thing; which just so happened to be your school's mascot.

It was Valentine's day at Greendale community college. Something that, in between your day to day classes and usual group shenanigans, you had forgotten about. If the seven couples french kissing hadn’t reminded you of that enough on your way to the library, the pair of heart shaped boxers draped over the statue outside did. 

You had sat down at the study group as usual, expecting Britta’s rant about the patriarchal undertones of the holiday and a well timed meta quip from Abed, but instead all you got was a pair of artificially painted eyes staring at you.

The mascot in question turned to you and made what sounded like an offended gasp as it stopped wheeling its little cart full of gifts. Cards covered in pink hearts and lacey trim overflowed from it, all attached with tacky glue, and you got a good look at one of them as it was sent flying near your forehead.

“Jeez! Sorry, man! I didn’t know this job meant that much to you!” You swiftly ducked under the table to avoid the line of fire. Coming up once the sound of squeaky wheels on carpet faded away, you ended up glowering as Troy laughed at you.

“Shut up, Barnes. Abed got more muffins than you.” You glared, referencing the lack of valentines gifts he'd been given. Troy was quick to choke on his laughter after that. He straightened his posture consciously, only stealing a look or two at the goodie basket placed neatly in front of Abed.

“Great dodge.” The amateur filmmaker praised you in his usual quick pace as you picked up the card from the floor. “If you had been in the Matrix, and that card was a bullet, that would have been the second coolest scene in the movie. Next to the other part where Neo also evades bullets.”

“Neo’s? I have a few friends that are those.”

“Ignoring Pierce's questionable life choices and their daily allotted hazing— ” Jeff sighed from his usual spot next to you, “— I have more important things to discuss. And speaking of which!”

Jeff slouched further into his chair as the door to the study room opened once more. You all watched as an extremely hungover Britta stumbled in, a pair of reflective aviators resting on the brim of her nose.

“Sorry I’m late.” She grumbled. Going to sit down she nearly fell out of the chair, and all of you exchanged various looks. If the way Jeff was smirking at Britta said anything, there was some new weird sexually charged adventure to be had between the two, and you were not ready to be in another one of those. You had done your time last week, and you weren't eager to repeat it.

"Actually, you're very late, Britta. See you later!" You slammed your Spanish textbook down on the table with an overly cheesy smile to punctuate the end of your sentence. Britta jumped at the loud noise, hissing at you to shut up, but you were already walking out of the room by then. If the shuffling behind you told you anything, it was that the rest of the group had done the same. Sans Britta and Jeff, per usual.

You tilted your body sideways as you navigated through the busy hall full of various highschool dropouts and divorced parents, letting the sound of tennis shoes squeaking against the floors bounce around in your head. It was more annoying than usual today, and it took you a second to realize that it wasn't the shoes making the noise, but rather Troy as he called after you.

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!" He wheezed. "You are very fast when you want to be!” The athlete gasped for breath when you finally slowed down. Coming to a stop as you turned around to face him, you saw another pair of legs enter your line of sight. This time much thinner, and accompanied with a wicker basket full of various baked goodies.

“Troy, I know you like to have someone hold your hand as you walk to class, but normally that's Abed’s job. Please don't allow me to take that pleasure from him.” You said, face completely blank. If you looked hard enough, you thought Abed’s nose flared a bit to insinuate a laugh.

“No, that’s not what I'm here to— hey how did you know that?” Troy took another gulp of air as his brows furrowed.

“I took a guess based on the way both your bodies and hands are angled apart each morning as you walk into Senior Chang’s class. Also, when you eat Cheetos, it rubs off onto the back of Abed's palm.”

“I don't eat Cheetos that much.” Troy frowned. “Do I? For the record I am not gay." Troy made sure to ennunciate that last part as he stared you down. His facial expression reminded you of a nervous first grader doing a bad job in their school play.

“You do, and that's not important right now.” Abed answered back. His head snapped to you with the same amount of intensity that he always got when thinking of a movie reference, and you got the sense he was holding back for the sake of the conversation. 

Raising both eyebrows, you motioned for them to go on. The hallway was clearing out a bit more, and you didn't want to be caught late for Changs class a third time in a row. Last time he threatened to beat you with maracas, and you wouldn't put it past him to actually carry through with it this time.

“Listen, we have something important to say.” Troy began. Abed backed him up with a furious nod, or his equivalent of it. Which really just boiled down to a regular paced nod.

"Is this about Valentine's day? You should ask Shirley about that."

"Come on man!" Troy threw his hands in the air, turning away from the both of you and crossing his arms. "How did you possibly come to that conclusion so fast?!"

"We were just talking about us holding hands."

"Thank you Abed." The both of you said at the same time. Albeit Troy with a little more teeth grinding then nessicary.

"Did you become a ninja overnight? Did you take a ninja class?" Troy took a step forward as he pointed his forefinger in your face. You stared at it as it approached, going cross-eyed momentarily.

"Yes. And if you did, I would like the name to that class." Abed pipped up.

"No, I didn't go to a ninja class." You said while pushing Troy's arm down. "Does this mean I'm right?"

The lack of response from Troy and Abed's unbothered expression provided you with your answer.

"Are you two trying to ask for dating advice or something?" You frowned as you started to walk in the direction of Spanish. Both of them followed as you fixed your backpack strap. "Because if so, Troy you could learn a lot from Abed. And Abed, if you're having a problem, I don't know how to make you anymore appealing to the ladies than you already are."

"It's true." He responded, looking off into what he probably thought was the fourth wall. "I am devilishly irresistible."

"Stop that!" Troy waved his hand in front of his friends face, bringing both their attentions back to you. "Listen. We were wondering how to go about asking the same person to the dance tonight."

"Oh. So like a love triangle thing? I never liked that troupe."

"No no." Troy shut his eyes as he shook his head. "More of like, uh—"

"Neither of us exactly know." Abed cut Troy off in a matter of fact manor. "We both see ourselves hanging out with them at the dance, but aren't exactly jealous of the other being there too."

"If you wanted me to I could crack open Websters dictionary to find a word for that."

"No thank you." Abed echoed. You simply shrugged.

"Okay. So what do you want me to do about it?" You questioned while turning a corner to another hallway. The three of you were nearly at Spanish now, but this conversation had pulled you in more than conjugating verbs ever could.

"We don't. Exactly know how to ask this person to go to the dance." Troy sucked in a breath.

"You guys have seen plenty of movies. Do the typical thing. Flowers, chocolate, and not what they do in your sci-fi movies Abed." You grinned at him knowingly as you passed through the doorway to class. "Personally I'd take kickpunching robots over literally anything ever, but I tend to be the exception for most things."

"It's not a date though. It's, like, three really close people hanging out. Not in a gay way though! I like girls! With boobs. Yes." Troy stammered as you all plopped into your rickety seats.

"Nice save Troy." Senior Chang called from the front of class with a snicker. He brought his feet down off his teachers desk to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth. "Or should I call you gay-lord!"

"I really hate this language requirement." Troy grumbled, sinking into his chair. You snorted as Abed stiffly reached his hand out to pat his shoulder, making robot sounds as he did so.

"Cheer up." You allowed yourself a shit eating grin. "It is Valentine's day after all."

“Well that was a disaster.” You said over the sound of a ringing bell. Students and teachers alike passed you and Annie by as the two of you made your way through the hall, neither of them seeming to care very much if they bumped into you or not. To say that’d you’d almost gotten into a fight or two due to traffic here would be an understatement.

“I don’t know.” Annie frowned. She brushed her hair out of her face and clutched her books to the front of her chest. You made a face subconsciously, the sight reminding you all too much of the stereotypical school girl. “I thought it was very mean of Senior Chang to do that to Troy! And Pierce, I guess.”

“Annie. He called a balding senior citizen and a lonely freshman out on their sad Valentine’s Day gifts to themselves. It’s Chang. Of course it’s mean. But mean things can also be also be disasters.”

The girl next to you seemed to think about your words for a second. Furrowing her brows once or twice, she eventually let out what you could only describe as a harumph.

“Well I think we should do something about it!”

“Pass.” You said without a seconds hesitation. Annie deflated a bit at that and eyed the tips of her shoes. You stole a look down at her, and let out a sigh.

“You know me. I’m such a big fan of sticking my nose in other peoples business when it doesn’t belong— “ Sarcasm. “— but I think you and Shirley would be a better duo for this. She’s ruthless when she sets her mind to it, and you’re crafty in the way that you could have written the script for the movie Seven if you wanted to. Probably.”

“Aww thanks! I think.” Annie beamed. She regained some pep in her step as she skipped ahead of you, only turning back to say one more thing to you. “No wonder Troy and Abed like to talk about you so much. So many obscure movie references between you guys. Cute!”

“Seven was a box office hit, Annie— “ You began with the hint of a frown tugging at your lips, but she was already off. No doubt to find Shirley before lunch so they could cook up their plan in a flurry of giggles. That only left you with one more question.

“They talk about me?”

Jeff huffed as he walked into the near empty classroom. His hands, which he had spent the last three minutes nervously slathering in expensive lotion as a part of his mid-day exfoliation routine, were stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this interaction, but sometimes he’d throw his better judgment out the window. Sometimes.

Raising a single eyebrow, he glanced around at the spare video equipment set up; the bulk of which was sat right in front of his target. The former lawyer ignored as a kid in a yellow button up kicked a trash can across the room, instead making a beeline for Abed. Who was giving directions rather loudly to the angry kid.

“Wow. Do you normally deal with divas like this?” Jeff flashed his signature charming smile while commenting on the temper tantrum. Better to be friendly and break the ice rather than dive right in. Otherwise you’d scare people off. He learned that while working at the firm.

“One Papa Johns commercial, and he thinks he’s Christian Bale.” Abed pursed his lips comically.

“Look, uh— “ Jeff began to steer away from the topic of the questionable kid as he pulls Abed’s attention in. “You were right earlier. During Spanish. Britta is being weird around me, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

“By being right, do you mean my prediction that the accidental booty call she sent you while drunk is going to cause the imminent breakup of our fragile group?”

Jeff blinked.

“Yeah. That.” He spat out.

“Nice. So what can I do for you?” Abed leaned back into his makeshift directors chair while crossing his legs. “Do you need a drunk voicemail of your own to send to her so the score will be evened? Because I have nowhere to be for the next twenty four hours and personal dilema to avoid.”

Jeff inhaled with the intent to bulldoze over the younger mans statement, but ended up falling flat.

“Ignoring that last part, yeah I do, actually. How did you know that?” He squinted. Jeff would never admit it, but sometimes it creeped him out how easily Abed could predict what people would say next.

“Classic sitcom staple.” Abed shrugged without changing his expression one bit. “Goes hand in hand with the booty call. Now— “ He leaned forward with a glint in his eye. One that Jeff didn’t quite like.

“How well can you act?”

You don’t know how you ended up here, and you had been ready to leave the moment you arrived.

A faint punch stain from years ago sat at the hem off of your slacks, reminiscent of a house party from a year ago that had ended in disarray. They were the good slacks too. Paired with what was thankfully an unstained button up polo shirt. This was the closest anyone was going get to fancy from you tonight.

Various pink and red hues cascaded across the dance floor, playing into the Valentine’s Day theme as the schools mascot continued to prowl around on the dance floor. You were sure that the dean would be happy with himself over that if it wasn’t for the fact that couples were making out everywhere. It was pretty fun watching him try to break them all up, actually. You’d made a little game out of it with how long you’d been standing at the punch table.

The toe of your shoe came in contact with a stray balloon from one of the tables centerpieces. With a downward twitch of your lips, you picked the rubbery material up into your hands and started messing with it. Sounds of latex on skin distracted you from all of the screeching and poor singing.

“Not having a lot of fun, huh?” A voice from your left asked.

Glancing near the onion rings that had been laid out as finger food, you saw the familiar form Britta peering at you from under some fake eyelashes. That would have been more of a shock to you if the skimpy red dress she was wearing didn’t overshadow it.

“Hey there.” You avoided her question as you threw the balloon back into the crowd it had come from. “Great disco ball costume. Very sparkly.”

“Ha ha.” She mocked you before crossing your arms. “For the record, I still think Valentine’s Day is a sham. I’m just doing this to see Jeff squirm.”

“Ah. Well then, I’m sure all of the women out there will forgive you for your transgressions.” You teased her with an empty smile.

Britta let out a cross between a laugh and a huff, gaze straying from you to look out at the mass you launched your balloon into. Occasionally someone in unusually high heels would fall, only to be swept back up into the bobbing heads.

“Have you talked to Troy lately?” Britta cut in suddenly. The tone of her voice made you narrow your eyes, and you hummed out a suspicious no.

“That question is both too casual and well delivered on a night like this to have come from you. What’s going on.” You had fully abandoned kicking around stray balloons for talking with her. Or at least, staring at her forehead while she talked. You didn’t know if you could manage eye contact right now.

“He was looking for you earlier at lunch. While sweating. A lot.” Britta scrunched her nose up as if she could still smell the body odor. “Sounded like he wanted to ask you something.”

You looked away from her for a moment, temporarily overcome with a feeling of nausea.

“Oh, yeah. My bad. I was in the study room.” A pause. “Studying.”

“Troy said that he checked there beforehand.” It was Britta’s turn to squint at you. “Why are you the one acting weird now?”

Rubbing at the back of your neck proved as a temporary relief to her question. Inhaling through your mouth, you pulled out your phone and messed with it for a second.

“I got a weird voicemail from Abed today. The main part is him talking to me about the dance scene from Breakfast Club, I think, and some weird phone thing with Jeff and you— " Britta coughed into her hand at that “— but the last few seconds really threw me.”

You opened your mouth to continue the story, but quickly shut it once you saw that Britta wasn’t paying attention anymore. You didn’t even have to follow her line of sight to know she was staring at a dejected looking Jeff— who had been standing by the cusp of the exit for six minutes now. You didn’t even have to nod at her to go before she took off, awkwardly waddling in her stilletos in an attempt to not trip.

It only took a few more minutes of watching the two of them go back and forth for you to give up on anything exciting happening to you. With a halfhearted grumble, you took one last grab at the punch bowl before starting towards the double doors. You hoped the juice had been spiked. If you made all this effort to show up to some lame school thing, might as well get a little tipsy.

“Well this is awkward.”

A harsh cough came from your throat as you choked on your own spit.  In an attempt to make yourself feel better, you turned around to glare at whoever had scared you, only to start coughing more.

“Abed?” You wheezed. Letting out another round of coughs, you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflection of the sunglasses on his face.

“I came as fast as I could when I realized Troy was stuck as Senior Changs whore for the night.” He looked at you calmly as you continued to die a little right in front of him.

Finally taking one more gulp of punch from the table, you calmed down enough to string together a sentence.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Let me explain for any in the audience that might have missed it while in the bathroom.” Abed held up a finger. All you could do was deadpan weakly at him.

“Both Troy and I approached you a little bit ago saying that we had something important to say to you. He worded it wrong. We were supposed to ask you something, not tell you. Instead, Troy allowed Senior Chang’s torture to ruin that question, and later I with Jeff and Britta’s voicemail problems”

“Their what’s? What is going on with voicemails today.”

“Not important.” Abed carried on. “What’s important is that while I was fulfilling the spot of Jeff’s drinking buddy, I realized something.”

“That you shouldn’t be drinking??” You questioned wildly. It was beginning to feel like this night was a special episode in a really bad main cable show. Either that or this place was finally getting to you.

“No. I realized that while Troy was fitting himself and Pierce into extra tight women’s suits, that we would miss the opportunity to ask you what we wanted to. I called Troy to tell him to go look for you, but only after sending a call to you that I do not remember the contents of. I assume you have it?” He blinked owlishly.

With a pair of very wide and very confused eyes, you grabbed your phone for the second time that night and shook it with a loose wrist. The audio from a few hours ago began to play faintly. It’s sound was swallowed by the bass of the dances music, but the both of you could still make the words out. Abed’s voice tumbled out at twice the speed it normally does, his energy no doubt heightened by alcohol.

“— e’re sort of like Marty McFly and Jennifer Parker, but there’s three of us. Have you seen the second movie? I need to show you the second movie. There’s more of Jennifer in that than the first. And Martys mom isn’t trying to get with him. Oh, and you don’t have to have a time traveling car for us to want to go to the dance with you. Although that would be nice. Jeff stop drooling on tha —"

Abed looked at it silently as the message continued to run. It was as if he expected nothing more from its contents. For a second you wondered how he’d react to the twenty minutes before that where all he talks about is Breakfast Club, but you figured it would be the same.

The feeling of nausea from earlier was back, and this time was trying to crawl out of your throat with a ferocity. Swallowing both your nerves and that not so metaphorical metaphor, you inhaled.

“So. Troy’s okay with this?” You asked cautiously, as if this was a dubious prank. Abed nodded almost immediately after you asked. The nausea subsided.

“And you’re okay with this?”

Another nod.

“Alright.” You shuffled. It felt like ten pounds had been lifted off your chest, and you didn't know how to express that. “I’ll go to the dance. With the both of you.”

A brief period of silence stretched between the two of you. The lights continued to flair, and the music continued to shake the floorboards, but none of you moved.

“Abed?”

“Sorry. You made me so happy I peed a little, and didn’t want to say anything.”

The corner of your mouth lifted up once. Twice. It only took one more time for a tirade of laughter to escape you all in one go. Abed’s unmoving expression just watched as you laughed to yourself, waiting patiently until you had stopped. When you paused to catch your breath, Abed placed a hand on your shoulder and looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

“Normally this doesn’t happen in shows.” He hummed. “Do you think that this is a way of adding some diversity in the form of a polyamorous couple at a community college?”

“How about no lables?” You suggested. “It feels weird. What if it was just me, you, and Troy for now.”

Abed repeated your words under his breath, mumbling a little. He lifted his head back up to you with his thought on the proposition, which arrived in the form of a steady thumbs up.

“Cool. Cool cool cool.” You grinned at him. Abed’s nose flared at your use of his unspoken catchphrase, and he turned away from you to cup his hands around his mouth.

"They said yes!" He told the figure dancing on the floor; the likes of which responded with a yell of victory before getting back to it. It took you a minute to get past the skintight blue suit and floral scarf to realize who it was.

"Troy?!" You sputtered with an open mouth. He looked at you at the mention of his name with a painful smile before turning back to his dance partner with a dramatic sob.

"What is he wearing? And why is Senior Chang— oh god." Your eyes widened, unable to look away. "I think I'm going to puke."

"It's better if you don't question it." Abed told you, his hand just a few inches shy of touching his eyes as he hid behind it.

"Give me your hand Abed." You said blankly. Without questioning you, he held it out. You were quick to sheild your own eyes from the dancing.

"So." You turned your head to look at him after a moment of gross silence, both of his hands still in the air. "Movie date tonight when Troy is released from captivity?"

"I've been waiting forever for you to ask that."

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

Severance: Can 'Weird' and 'Popular' Coexist?

I’m thrilled to report a resounding yes. If you know me, you know I love nothing more than a weird drama. This love has been a bit of a lonely experience; the best weird shows are either ‘cult classics’ (The Leftovers, Six Feet Under, Twin Peaks, Sense8) or started out mainstream but ended up with a legacy that I could only describe as infamous (…Lost…). Today’s streaming era has only exacerbated this lonesome road: with so much to choose from and no appointment viewing, it feels like catching lightning in a bottle to find someone in my life watching the same thing at the same time as me. That is, until Severance.

I don’t need to unpack this season or that finale, but I’ll tell you I loved every second of it. The truth is, I couldn’t do as good a job as all my friends and family members who dissected it with me every week- not to mention the countless people online who managed to make a compelling case for every theory from the Board being a collective consciousness of the Eagan lineage living in Jame’s brain (I’m buying into this one) to Ricken being a goat (this one not so much).

Y’all have shown up for this show in a way that has honestly filled my heart to the brim. I don’t have any light that hasn’t already been shed on the brilliance of the plot, characters, performances, or cinematography. So instead, I’m here to talk about the cultural moment I feel I’ve just witnessed… and make a pitch to bring back standing weekly TV appointments.

I think I had every viewing experience possible with Severance. I actually am pretty late to the game- I watched all of season 1 for the first time in a single day back in December. Needless to say, it was incredible, and from then on, I waited with bated breath for season 2 like the rest of the world. When I first pulled up Apple TV+ on release day and saw only one episode, my initial reaction was “Jesus, all the lead up to this day and we only get one?”. I’ve since done a complete 180.

The time to digest the developments of each new episode, to theorize, to reflect, to discuss, is what allowed it to become as big as it has over the last ten weeks. It’s also what allowed it to build community. Severance is so good that when a new episode did drop, rather than watching it whenever was convenient, everyone was watching as soon as they possibly could. It’s not the only show releasing weekly of late, but it’s the closest thing to synchronized viewing I’ve ever seen in the streaming era.

I was able to attend the Severance event at PaleyFest this past Friday, the release date of the season 2 finale. The event included a screening of the episode followed by a panel with the cast, director Ben Stiller, and creator Dan Erickson, moderated by Ben Schwartz. Despite technically being the same day the episode came out, I was so antsy all day waiting to watch it. I felt behind- all my Severance buddies were checking in, having already seen it, their world rocked. I was checking Reddit to be super sure they were, in fact, showing the full episode at the event, and everyone online shared my anxieties and eagerness to see it.

I’m not quite ready to call “Cold Harbor” the best episode of TV I’ve ever seen (it might be- I’m mulling it over), but I am ready to say that it was the best time I’ve ever had watching an episode of TV. And I generally have a pretty good time watching TV.

Seeing it on a big screen in a room full of fans truly confirmed the quality and community I’ve felt throughout this season. I was gripped. Innie and outie Mark’s camcorder conversation was impressively compelling. Their simultaneous conflict and cooperation had me on the edge of my seat, hand over my mouth. Mark’s reunion with Gemma was tear-jerkingly beautiful. And I simply had the time of my life watching Milchick groove to a marching band under colored fluorescent lighting. I didn’t want the episode to end. But the best part was that I could really tell that the rest of the sold-out theater felt the same way. Everyone cheered, laughed, and clapped in all the right places.

I was concerned as this season progressed that the audience would start to turn on it. Shows like this, which in their early days have weirdness bubbling just beneath the surface, at some point have to take a turn. What, in season 1, were one-off moments, will eventually have to take center stage. A glimpse of a breathing tube and shrine to Kier in Cobel’s apartment will become an entire episode. A tour of the Perpetuity Wing can, in the moment, be nothing more than fuel for the theories of die-hard fans- but soon the whole story will hinge on the seeds planted there. Stumbling upon a room full of goats can be written off as a ‘kinda weird part’ of an otherwise straightforward episode, but it can’t have happened for no reason.

Season 2 spent much more time in the weird, and in doing so turned a hugely popular show with an outwardly simple premise into something incredibly specific, strange, and unique. In the cable era, this would have absolutely been an HBO series, a network whose entire business model is based around the assumption that its shows will have a small audience.

So while I found myself smiling from ear to ear, thinking “this show is so wonderfully strange”, I was also holding my breath for it. But I could feel that entire audience eating it up just as much as me. Laughing at the way Patricia Arquette says “Mark”, clapping along with the marching band. I exhaled in relief and joy. There’s just something so heartwarming to me about so many people getting on the same wavelength with something so thoroughly unique. And something so exhilarating about the successful telling of a detailed, bizarre, yet ultimately very human story.

It makes me feel that as people, we really can understand each other. We’re capable of getting in tune with one another’s nuance. We can perceive the layered, emotional, and murky nature of situations and think about them critically. In fact, we love to. And we’re good at it. That’s what storytelling means to me and what makes me an optimist in this world.

I really think we’ve just watched Severance cement itself in TV history. And if this earnest reflection hasn’t convinced you to give up binge watching… you don’t have to. A weekly release doesn’t prevent anyone from waiting 10 weeks and wolfing it all down at once. But it does create the opportunity for human connection and shared experiences. And that simply has to be what it’s all about.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

CNN 5/8/2025

Key takeaways from Joe Biden and Jill Biden’s interview on ‘The View’

By Arit John and Arlette Saenz, CNN

Updated: 4:28 PM EDT, Thu May 8, 2025

Source: CNN

Former President Joe Biden blasted President Donald Trump’s first 100 days and defended his own performance as president during an appearance Thursday on ABC’s “The View,” his first live television interview since leaving the White House in January.

In the joint interview with his wife, Dr. Jill Biden, the former president discussed his ongoing rivalry with Trump and his continued relationship with former Vice President Kamala Harris, who he said still seeks his advice.

The Bidens had strong words for Democratic leaders, who they said bought into the idea he needed to drop out of the presidential race after his disastrous June presidential debate. They also dismissed reports and upcoming books that claim the former president experienced cognitive decline while in office.

The interview comes as the Bidens are reemerging into public life at a time when the Democratic Party is searching for new leaders and a cohesive strategy for taking on Trump. The former president did an interview with BBC News this week and the former first lady is now chairing a women’s health initiative for the Milken Institute.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s the most significant and consequential role I can play, consistent with what I’ve done in the past,” the former president said, adding that he’s writing another book.

The appearance also marks the pair’s efforts to defend the former president’s reputation from criticism that his decision to run for a second term – and remain in the race as long as he did – led to Harris’ defeat.

Here are three takeaways from the interview with the Bidens:

Biden pushes back on Democrats who ousted him

The Bidens pushed back on suggestions he experienced significant cognitive decline in his final year in office.

“They are wrong,” Biden said. “There is nothing to sustain that.”

“I said when I got out of the race, I was still going to be president. I think I did a pretty damn good job the last six months,” he said.

But it was his wife, Dr. Biden, who offered the more forceful defense of his time in office and disputed suggestions she had insulated her husband in his final years in office.

“The people who wrote those books were not in the White House with us, and they didn’t see how hard Joe worked every single day. I mean, he’d get up, he put in a full day, and then at night he would, I’d be in bed, you know, reading my book, and he was still on the phone, reading his briefings, working with staff. I mean, it was nonstop,” she said.

Biden admitted his performance at the CNN debate against Donald Trump last June amounted to a “terrible night,” but argued the suggestions he was unable to do the job of president did not reflect the broader sentiment of the Democratic Party.

“The Democratic Party at large didn’t buy into it,” Biden said, pointing to winning Democratic primaries in 2024 despite running largely uncontested in most of those contests. “But the Democratic leadership and some of the very significant contributors did.”

Asked if she was too close to the situation to accurately assess her husband’s ability to serve a second term, Dr. Biden said: “I did not create a cocoon around him.”

The former first lady also said hearing people describe her as Lady MacBeth was “very hurtful, especially from some of our so-called friends.”

Biden sidestepped a question about his current relationship with former President Barack Obama and instead attempted to provide more of an explanation for his decision to bow out of the race.

“The only reason I got out of the race was because I didn’t want to have a divided Democratic Party. It’s a simple proposition. And so that’s why I got out of the race,” he said. “I thought it was better to put the country ahead of my interest, my personal interest. I’m not being facetious. I’m being deadly earnest about that.”

Relationship with Harris

One question facing the Democratic party is whether Harris will run again, either for governor of California next year or president in 2028.

Asked if Harris has told him what she plans to do next, President Biden said he speaks with Harris frequently – as recently as Wednesday – and that she does seek his opinion on topics.

“She’s got a difficult decision to make about what she’s going to do,” he said. “I hope she stays fully engaged. I think she’s first rate, but we have a lot of really good candidates as well.”

Looking back to the last election, the former president said he wasn’t surprised that Harris lost – not because she wasn’t qualified, but because the Trump campaign “went the sexist route” throughout the campaign.

“I’ve never seen quite a successful and consistent campaign undercutting the notion that a woman couldn’t lead the country, and a woman of mixed race,” the former president said.

At one point the panel brought up a past Harris appearance on “The View,” during which she said there wasn’t anything she could think of that she would have done differently than he did. The former president denied reports that he encouraged there to be no daylight between her campaign and his administration.

“I did not advise her to say that,” he said. “I think that was used in a way that is contrary to what she meant.”

Taking on Trump

Biden and Trump’s longstanding rivalry came up throughout the interview.

“He’s had the worst 100 days any president’s ever had,” the former president said. “And I would not say honesty has been a strong point.”

Asked why Trump continues to mention him, the former president said: “I beat him.” He repeated his assertion that he could have beat Trump if he’d stayed in the race

Throughout the conversation, Biden defended his record. At one point he was asked if he takes responsibility for Trump’s victory and for not pushing to pass border security legislation earlier in his presidency.

“Yes, I do, because look, I was in charge, and he won,” Biden said. He then criticized Trump for pushing Republicans to vote against bipartisan border legislation.

The panel also asked about Trump’s interest in the former president’s use of an autopen to sign pardons for his family, which Trump has said are “void” and “vacant.”

“Oh, he’s vacant,” the former president said.

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[willowed-wisp]

misread horoscopes.

character: shintaro midorima x reader word count: 4,129 categories: suggestive themes, pregnancy, fluff

She had had to keep it dwelled inside of her, sitting on the information she had for two weeks prior to her seated position. Her mind wasn't in the game that ensued forward, her husband playing some of the best basketball that the world had seen, it dwelled on the fact that she didn't know how he would react to the news.

Despite being married for seven years, together for six before he popped the question, they hadn't discussed bringing another member of the family into their world- but that was a possibility on the table. Y/N had always wanted children, however, Shintaro was the wildcard. The man had always liked his life to be lived in a particular way; buying his lucky item to avoid life threatening situations daily and wearing that stupid tape to ensure that nothing was left to chance with his three-pointers. The fact that she was pregnant could stir their relationship for the worst if the Boston Celtics shoot guard took it the wrong way.

The whistle blew, sounding the end of the match- with both teams shaking hands respectively. The spectacled member of the Celtics searched for his usually exuberant wife who wrapped her legs around his waist when victory had been achieved by his team. However, she could be seen out on the side lines- chewing on her nail with an absent-minded expression written on her features. He found team victories tedious anyhow, making it guiltless to examine his love. "Isn't your lucky item working today, my love?" He stated, as soon as she heard his voice, her sleeved arms latched around his neck while her legs rested where they had to due to his height, around his waist. It was an understatement to say that the male was taken aback by his significant other's behaviour. He knew the cameras were focussed on the couple in that moment as he felt dampening cover his shoulder. Why's she crying? Was his immediate thought as the verdant-haired player waltzed with his wife in his arms so that they could have some privacy. Members of his team would approach, motioning to the cradled Y/N Midorima and he would bat them off (partially due to his obliviousness to this entire situation, as well).

Calculatedly, the twenty-nine-year-old reached an empty bathroom. Y/N was set down on the countered sinks while her counterpart rotated the lock to the door; securing them in with each other. The woman saw the reflected picture of herself- dripping makeup spearing from her eyes. She pinned the pregnancy hormones for the out of character behaviour. "Are you going to tell me what just happened?" His position motioned towards her- gripping her wrists with enough precision to be gentle. He just wanted to look into those eyes he focused on when he became frustrated.

She wanted to brace her arms on the hilt of the sink that was beside her. It was as if the pressure of his possible reaction had her hefting the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I'm on my period and the cramps are hurting like hell." A complete lie from in between her teeth, and he could sniff out his wife's bullshit even if she hadn't had been directly in front of him.

An exasperated sigh originated from the male, his middle fingers pushed up his glasses in frustration with her attempted deceit. "I know I've not been the most tolerable person to talk to- but you don't have to lie to me." Her eyes always found their way back to focus on his lower lashes; constant jealousy was the likely cause, but so had been the verdant rays which trickled within his vivid irises. His arms tugged her in close, she had nowhere else to look but him. "Oha Asa said unprecedented events would take place today and to be prepared for what lay ahead..." His mind relapsed into the hidden intricacies of the horoscope for that exact date, he thought maybe one of his teammates would become injured during the match or something insignificant in Shintaro's life- not that his wife was the unwarranted circumstance in which he was not in control of.

Despite the grotesque possibility that he would prevent her from having a child he planted inside of the womb within Y/N's body, the woman in question had nothing to lose but a barely developed month and a half year old foetus. "Actually, Shin… I can’t be on my period..." She had no idea why her body felt so small whilst under his attentive gaze as she awaited him to connect the dots in that intelligent brain that Midorima possessed. "Shintaro, aren't you gonna say anything?"

His hands had since dropped away from his wife and one held his face up- as if pondering something. "My mother has a remedy for excess stress... that train crash caused overtime at the hospital for yo-"

Her body slumped against the tiles that wound around the bottom half of the walls, proceeding to squeak down their glossy surface. Taking her husband by surprise and catapulting him into a sort of alert mode. "It's not the stress, Shin..." The woman began to fiddle with her hair in her own kind of frustration. "Y'know the day after the heated game against the Bulls- and we didn't have a condom but we did it anyway because you were so pent up?" His hair waved along with his neck, signalling his understanding.

His uniform creased by his forearms contorting under his chest. "That was two months ago- I'm shocked you still remember that." And it confounded how oblivious he was to such matters of pregnancy- probably because he had never had to deal with the experience and wouldn't have to. That was her job, an employment she happened to be dealing with in that precise moment.

Her sunken head raised as his fingers plucked her chin in an upwards motion, their faces unbelievably close- as they had been an infinite amount of times before that moment. While he was crouched, she gripped his other arm- placing his flat hand onto her stomach which carried his unborn child. A flicker of light cast from his glasses, he was finally in a daze of reality. "I'm pregnant." His entire being straightened upwards until he stood in front of the woman- whose eyes dripped with molten tears. "I'm sorry... I never meant for this to happen..."

It was her turn to bolt upright, at a lower rate to her love. "Sorry?" His voice echoed subconsciously in her ears; rattling any sense of safety she had in their relationship- this had the capability to end it because no matter what he said, she could never abort the baby growing in her uterus as the debacle ensued. Y/N's vision caught sight of his clenched fist as some moisture fell onto the solid floor beneath his body. "You're sorry about all of this, Y/N?" She was unsure of the tone he held, too out of tune with reality to intake that sort of information. Her hands caught her head as it collapsed along with the pool of fluid that escaped the sanctuary of her tear ducts. 

Y/N knew he would be angry because he didn't want to be a dad- but it had a confounding effect on the woman. 

Is this the end of our relationship? She questioned worriedly in her soul. However, she doubted if she had the strength to leave the side of the man she loved with every cell and fibre in her figure. Y/N didn't know if she could raise a child knowing that Shintaro Midorima had abandoned the two of them in the most dire of situations.

There was a sudden pressure felt on her bump-less middle. His emerald eyes resonating into her own, and the gleam wasn't from the glasses shielding his orbs- it was the reciprocated waterworks that enveloped what seemed to be his entire body. "And you're not playing around? You're one-hundred percent sure?" She knew he didn't let chance dictate his fate, even in this circumstance. Which meant this was the normal Shintaro Midorima she had met while he was a rookie for the team in which he played for in the current moments they spent with each other. Her head nodded- providing the man with a verified answer. "How long have you known for?"

"A couple of weeks but I was having symptoms two weeks before that.I thought I was overworked by how tired I was." He picked his wife up and rested her on the chic-looking sink counters. The stadium was furnished lushly for the players and this was one of the private toilets in which VIPs and/or players could utilise. Shintaro fitted in between her legs which had been only slightly parted but had been tapered to allow for him to have a deep seated connection with his one and only.

His head nuzzled in her neck meanwhile he cocooned her into an engulfing embrace; shifting Y/N's legs to resort to the position they had been whilst on the court. "I guess Oha Asa was right about the 'unprecedented' part of your day." Her words were clear as day while her lips were dangerously close to his sensitive ears. A chunk of green lurched, tickling the woman's neck in the shared second they endured together- caused by the monotonous chuckle that strayed from his direction.

"I'll overlook your doubt this one time..."

____________________________________________

Seven months had passed and for Shintaro Midorima, it was the second most important match he had ever had the pleasure to play. The championship match between the Phoenix Suns, against his most challenging opponent who could easily block his always-on-target three-pointers; Atsushi Murasakibara. His wife was, however, ready to pop any day- making the decision to watch the match from home. A couple of hours before his match ensued, she had felt a faint inclination that resembled a subliminal menstruation ache and Y/N had thought nothing of it. She was no obstetrician but she wished she had been over the past eight and a half months of pregnancy- the surgical resident was terrified. At least Shintaro was glad that there was to be a new addition in the family, which she had been anxious about throughout the first third of her first trimester. Y/N assumed that it was from the chocolate she had eaten earlier in the day.

In front of her, placed on the transparent, lowly structured table had been the assortment of indulgences that would have the privilege of being devoured by Y/N while the game was in action. Despite this, it would be extremely impressive if the woman could consume all of the snacking regiment before the long haul game was expected to finish. There were two powerhouse players that could delay the forty-eight-minimum minutes of gameplay. That along with the anticipated interviews that would take place despite the diversion of victory. As soon as the whistle signalled that the first quarter was in effect- with her eyes on her athlete husband, Y/N's cramping became somewhat staggering for her to endure. Her focus dissipated on Shintaro's game and onto the feeling that she expected clothing to experience while being ironed. She neglected the fact that she had described them as 'period cramps', now dubbing them as what a stabbing victim was forced to discern when that metal breached their flesh. However it seemed that the perpetrator lived beneath the skin. She knew in that minute what was occurring.

"Why now?!" She grumbled with gritted teeth concealing the already evident pain lingering in her tone. Her digits grasped tightly onto her smartphone as another wave of agony swarmed her abdomen. Pelvis gauged into the cushioned surface in which Y/N rested up, smartphone in hand- the woman had been compelled to clutch the bump that would hopefully dissipate once the being encased inside of her had been freed. "Fucking hell!"

Speedily her fingertips found the contact she had already accounted for- impatient whilst she awaited an answer from the other end. "Answer the fucking phone, Kise!" Neck craned with trickles of sweat sprinting down its side. Y/N knew that the pain would cease to exist once the delivery was finished, however, something told her that that wouldn't be close until she entered the intense stage of labour; signalling the moment when her water would eventually break.

Pant after pant, it had been an eternity to the woman but finally his voice rang in her ears, "Y/Nchhi, I'm sort of watching your husband's match at TD Gardens-"

"The baby's coming, Kise! I need you to, uh," another power wave of torment struck- leaving Ryota in action mode due to the reality of the ongoing situation. The call had been cut from Kise's end of the line, Y/N became plagued with worry as her eyes lingered on the television- devoid of focus on her husband as the blond locks of the Warriors' Small Forward pulled aside the coach of the Celtics. Something she hadn't wanted to happen- this was Shintaro's first love (other than the Oha Asa horoscope) and his wife did not want to relieve him of it.

"We see Midorima going in for another shot from the mid-way line and from this man's record, that means another three points for Celtics- who are up 10:2 against the Suns and their almost as incredible player Murasakibara."

"And what do we have here, Shaq? Celtic's coach Ime Udoka is calling a timeout... a possible injury, maybe?"

"It all seems to revolve around their Shooting Guard, for sure. We'll get information from Ime- wait, Mike... is that San Francisco's Kise down there with Udoka and Midorima?"

"Seems so... it's as though this is a personal issue of some kind- we both know his wife, Y/N, who is somewhere in TD Gardens cheering Boston on for victory."

"This young man has enough dedication to his sport and hasn't missed a single match in the entire season."

"Midorima seems to be... staying to play for his team in this NBA final at the home of the Boston Celtics... and there is still no news concerning the discussion that has taken place, however, we do know that Jaylen Brown will not be sent on during this match as the Celtics Shooting Guard- there is still hope for his position as a Short Forward to help his team claim victory over the Arizona side."

The power immediately departed from the television, as the woman managed to hobble over to the bathroom of their apartment. Making sure to support her body weight on various items of furnishing which scattered around her course- hand latching on the bag that she had prepared earlier. It ranged from the blanket in which they bought for their new born upon their entry into the world, to the lucky item that had updated every single day for the two probable zodiac signs for the baby for all of the eight and half months. This time, it seemed as though it was the frog plush animal that he held their first date- it was as if April 12th was the perfect date for their first born to enter the world (hopefully, with no complications). She only hoped that it was lucky for the match in which she knew her beloved would be striving in while she would be in labour.

_________________________________________________

He had been made to wait outside of the room, down the Maternity Ward- however, the blond could hear the wailing of one of his closest friends. While inside of the room, Y/N was too dilated to have the epidural that would have numbed the already molten nerve endings that she would have sworn would be melted at this point. Water had flushed out of her undercarriage twenty minutes prior- warning the woman of the intense labour pains she could expect. "Y/N/N, you're fully dilated. We need you to push, sweetie." It may come off as unusual, however, the doctor delivering her baby was one of Y/N's good friends at the hospital- considering she had been a resident for the past eight years. She saw how her pregnant friend's eyes prickled full of water- but Danielle had no time for nicety, the baby's oxygen would be depleting now there was no amniotic fluid to protect it with.

"I need him here, Danie! I can't do this without Shintaro!" It was as if she was referring to her husband as being dead. The woman automatically pushed, nevertheless, causing more of the baby's body to appear from her legs.

"You got this- I can see the head. Just a few more strong pushes!" The other woman in a state of reddening agony exasperated lengthy gasps proceeding to squeezing. She hadn't realised the sheer force that her bare hands had laid waste to on the bedding, which was stained with sweating imprints as the rest of Y/N's being was shifted at the foot of the furniture. "Just the legs to go, Y/N. You've got this!" She began to ready herself for the strain in which a final action would inflict on her own entirety. That was until she began to notice the blur of verdant that stood vacantly in the wooden doorway- the sheen on his spectacles stood our the most, other than his entire shamrock uniform. He didn't remain still when his wife released the last amount of effort she had held onto- it was enough for her baby to flood out and into Danielle's arms.

Shintaro instantly dropped his bags at the door- having darted to his beloved; pulling her lips onto his own, not giving in until he was satisfied with the duration required. "I'm so proud of you, darling..." His husky tone held her focus as he spoke against their formerly conjoined limbs.

In that moment, it had been as though nothing had occurred, the searing halted almost immediately from the lower regions of her body- feeling the relief about the entire experience that had progressed fairly quickly considering the long-haul births that some women can experience. From outside the squealing had been replaced with the electric tears of newly given life. Those who had produced their masterpiece were united in their display of waterworks all as her miniscule creation was nestled into her arms by one of the scrubbed nurses scattered around the room. Upon sighting into those bright blue eyes; ones that she was fairly sure would develop into ones alike her husband's- Y/N knew that Shintaro was not the only thing in this world that she would love unconditionally no matter what they did. "Y/N/N, Shintaro- meet your son!" The two had neglected learning the sex of their child, Shintaro would have obsessed over how Aries and Taurus men and women differ towards each other and because he actually wanted fate to decide something of its free will for once without his influence.

 All that they were focused on was the new apple of their eyes- their baby boy. "He's gonna have your eyes," he smiled at her heartfelt statement, "and your crappy eyesight." Shintaro was instantly sent into a cascade of having his face sunken at that comment, but known fact, by his wife. However, he let it go- he didn't care as soon as he peered into both sets of vibrant eyes displayed before him. Those of Y/N Midorima and their newborn, unnamed son. "Did you win?"

His mossy hair began to contort with the vertical motions his own head spurted into fruition. "The media got wind of this. That blond brat should be banned off of Instagram, idiot broke the news on his story..." The muscles inside of his neck had begun to tense as he spoke, causing the woman beside him to brush her fingertips across the span of his cheek- which descended his gaze to their boy an additional occurrence. Not once had his under lashes flickered in boredom or falsity- it was genuine. He had never loved another being in the way he had the baby before him. Of course, Shintaro adored his wife- but the kind of way he felt for his own son was unconditional.

Y/N caught onto the subconscious want of her husband in that moment, her arms raised toward her right side. "Hold your son, Shintaro." There had been no hesitation on his part when his tapped left hand spread to cup the child's head while his right arm cradled the rest of his diddy body.  "You're... surprisingly good at that~" A light chuckle shook the waves of sound around their vicinity- surveying the two men in her life from the moment that their child entered the world.

His deep green eyes delved into the baby azure ones- silencing the stifled cries from the being held in his arms with surprising ease. "Nobody is ever going to hurt you..." He had become even more of a softer person in a span of twenty minutes. It melted Y/N's own heart- it was burning in her chest. Especially when Midorima's nose and the junior version of himself began to rub their noses with each other; exuberant laughter rattled from the young infant. A gleam prominently illustrated across the Shooting Guard's features- a marvel in itself; it was painful for people to get him to smile- but this was more than that, he beamed with rays of energy. "I apologise for being late- they chose me to be the MVP for the season."

Her ears spiked up, "That's fantastic, Shin! Been a great season, huh?" He gave a long nod, eyes still focused on his son. "I think I have a name idea, honey..." His attention fixated on his wife. "This city has had such an influence on us this year and this little guy was born on the day his dad won with his team."

"I'm not opposed to that idea. But, it would be in fate's favour to have something linked to his zodiac sign."

"I know you, Shintaro... zodiac duty was already yours, babe." There was no hesitation in her booming, confident vocals. "You were already going to write on the birth certificate..."

__________________________________________

"In sports news, well... revolving around sports news... the Most Valued Player of the ended NBA season, Shintaro Midorima has become a father. Fans watching the events at TD Gardens were shocked as halfway through, Celtics' head coach, Ime Udoka, called off the Shooting Guard and speculations arose surrounding personal matters that could take him out of the game."

"Yes, Martha. Despite the events occurring, the Japanese player remained on court, only to receive the NBA championship win and the title of MVP for the Season."

"Details have been revealed by the couple. In an ode to the team that Midorima has won four championship titles with, their baby boy was named Boston."

"What a wonderful way to pay homage to the team that has held their Shooting Guard since his NBA debut. Wishing their expanded family all the best as celebrations continue among Boston fans, and commiserations dwell for Phoenix supporters."

"This has been Martha MacCallum-"

"- and Bill Hemmer, signing off on your six o'clock news."

Her head shook in disbelief, pressing the red button on the remote. "Why did Kise have to be the only one there at the match? He's airing out information to the press- unintentionally!" Her hips had become gripped by the man laid back on the reclining leather couch, causing her to crash onto his lap. He had precision after how many years they had been together. Y/N toppled gently across his legs before scuffling to splay out horizontally- her head resting on his thighs; eyes focused on the ceiling.

"Don't get worked up- Oha Asa says Scorpios are supposed to be having a relaxed day." Her cheeks puffed, as she grinded closer into his body. That was until the consistent shrills sourcing from the nursery became increasingly aware to the parents. "I'll get him, darling..." Before she could blink, he had plonked her onto the furnishing and had disappeared behind the door- the cries in which Boston had released ceased to exist as soon as he was in the arms of his father.

They both appeared from around the corner, with an addition. "He just won't accept any lucky item, other than this frog plush- does he know the terrifying things that can happen when not carrying your lucky item?" Y/N felt the tension of Shintaro envisioning what life would be without his compulsive habit. His eyes flickered wide at the hidden chuckle he had heard stray from Y/N- not acting on his disbelief; still fixated on the adorable vision of his bright-eyed two-day-year-old son. "Maybe it's not a horrendous turn of events, he may even look cute with that frog. Don't you, Boston? Yes you do!" She had never seen acting so... childish before, and it was a positive change for the woman who had only ever seen her partner act like an adult, even when he was a freshman university student with his basketball scholarship.

Not that Y/N would want to alter anything about Shintaro Midorima, it was a never-seen-before element to the man she loved.

[youraveragebtsstan]

DemonDean and SoullessSam Headcanon!

I have this reoccurring headcanon of DemonDean and SoullessSam irrespective of eachother that I thought I'd finally share.

(FYI: Prior to these scenarios taking place, Dean and Sam have had sex before. Of course they know it's morally wrong, but it just feels so right.)

~~~~~~~~~

-SoullessSam-

After the wall comes down in Sam's mind, Sam finds out his soulless counterpart wasn't exactly tender when initiating sex with Dean. No wonder Dean pulled away whenever he tried to touch him. He wouldn't want to touch him either. In fact, he hated his own reflection- feeling sick whenever he looked in the mirror. Dean shrugged off his apologies with the same nonchalant attitude every time, Sam feeling more vile with each one.

It's nearly two months after his soul is returned that Dean hugs him without hesitation- a bad call rendering Sam a little too still as he laid on the ground. A few weeks later they kiss again. There was just something so attractive about the way Dean sang along to Def Leppard, Sam couldn't help himself. And after a six hour long trek from Iowa to Missouri, when Dean threw his little brother onto the bed before his bag could hit the floor, Sam was more than surprised.

The sex was clumsy yet delicate, desperate yet determined- and much like their first time it was magical.

When Sam awoke the next day, he came to in his Dean's arms. And with a recycled inuendo about breakfast in bed rolling off his brother's tongue, he rolled his eyes- but it was mornings like this Sam wouldn't have any other way.

-DemonDean-

Sure, Dean could be a dick at times but DemonDean took the cake. His snide remarks about Sam's savior complex was manageable at first, but once they veerd into degradation territory, Sam soon became visibly uneasy.

The problem was Dean knew all of Sammy's little secrets when it came to his knack for masochism. The way he'd beg for Dean to ruin him with just his eyes after a few drinks too many. How he'd crumble into the sheets when Dean pulled on his hair, the cold tickle of his amulet scraping his back. The fact of the matter is, Sam loved when Dean ordered him around- now that Sam thought he could easily do the same just tickled DemonDean pink.

Stalking Sam around the bunker, DemonDean said some rather inappropriate things that should have made Sam crawl out of his skin; but infact, as he ran for literal fear of his life, he couldn't ignore the steady growing uncomfortability his jeans held. Even as Cas retrieved their 2nd gallon of holy water, Sam knew by the glint in Dean's glossy black eyes that he had too had lost.

After the ink faded from Dean's eyes, the two never discussed what happened- though, Sam had a sinking suspicion it wasn't necessary. They both noticed how Sam's breath would hitch whenever Dean stepped a little too close. Dean's occasional itch to bend Sam over the nearest surface was visible in the way he'd stare into space mid conversation.

But eventually, their awkwardness passed- the brothers returning to their usual bedroom routine a few months later. Though after the occasional hard case, they did explore the boundaries of Sammy's masochism, one demon blade at a time.

~~~~

Listen, it's not much (and not a full fledged piece of work by any means), but I just wanted to shared what goes through my mind when I see DemonDean or SoullessSam on screen. Enjoy, you filthy animals! 🥰😜🤫

[eternal-echoes]

So I ask: “Do you think that your past government experience can serve you in governing the universal church?” After a brief pause for reflection, Pope Francis becomes very serious, but also very serene, and he responds: “In my experience as superior in the Society, to be honest, I have not always behaved in that way—that is, I did not always do the necessary consultation. And this was not a good thing. My style of government as a Jesuit at the beginning had many faults. That was a difficult time for the Society: an entire generation of Jesuits had disappeared. Because of this I found myself provincial when I was still very young. I was only 36 years old. That was crazy. I had to deal with difficult situations, and I made my decisions abruptly and by myself. Yes, but I must add one thing: when I entrust something to someone, I totally trust that person. He or she must make a really big mistake before I rebuke that person. But despite this, eventually people get tired of authoritarianism. “My authoritarian and quick manner of making decisions led me to have serious problems and to be accused of being ultraconservative. I lived a time of great interior crisis when I was in Cordova. To be sure, I have never been like Blessed Imelda [a goody-goody], but I have never been a right-winger. It was my authoritarian way of making decisions that created problems. “I say these things from life experience and because I want to make clear what the dangers are. Over time I learned many things. The Lord has allowed this growth in knowledge of government through my faults and my sins. So as Archbishop of Buenos Aires, I had a meeting with the six auxiliary bishops every two weeks, and several times a year with the council of priests. They asked questions and we opened the floor for discussion. This greatly helped me to make the best decisions. But now I hear some people tell me: ‘Do not consult too much, and decide by yourself.’ Instead, I believe that consultation is very important. “The consistories [of cardinals], the synods [of bishops] are, for example, important places to make real and active this consultation. We must, however, give them a less rigid form. I do not want token consultations, but real consultations. The consultation group of eight cardinals, this ‘outsider’ advisory group, is not only my decision, but it is the result of the will of the cardinals, as it was expressed in the general congregations before the conclave. And I want to see that this is a real, not ceremonial consultation.”

-INTERVIEW WITH POPE FRANCIS by Fr Antonio Spadaro, August 19, 2013

[intimatedear]

📖 Closer| Chapter 4- About a possible conspiracy, senseless cruelty, and brotherly love.

The first chapters can be found here.

"Panem et circenses."

"Bread and circuses."

(Juvenal, Satires, X, 81)

The Roman Empire, the epitome of earthly might, had endured for two hundred and thirty—six years, steadily expanding its horizons and solidifying its grandeur year after year. Emperors rose and fell, one after another, crafting a legacy destined to be recounted for millennia. Yet, the last five months of the reign of the young emperors had clearly fallen short of the expectations of both the populace and the Senate.

They ascended to power with grandeur and lavish celebrations, making a bold statement about their reign. However, they chose not to follow the wise path of their father, who had focused on building and strengthening the empire. Instead, they pursued the rapid and rather reckless expansion of Rome's influence into new territories—an approach that, in hindsight, had significant consequences for both the common people and the elite. These new conquests drained the treasury, taxes soared, and yet the celebrations, both for these victories and other occasions, seemed never—ending. The Senate and influential citizens of the empire grew increasingly uneasy with the impulsiveness of Geta and Caracalla. Behind closed doors, they began to discuss the looming challenges and potential solutions.

On this warm evening, the triclinium, the dining room of Lucilla's house, was filled with guests. The table was laden with delicacies, yet none of the attendees touched the food their hostess had so generously provided. The discussions were far more compelling than the prospect of filling their stomachs. Senators Marcus Tullius, Julius Scipio, and Gracchus were fervently debating the new military campaign aimed at seizing the remaining cities of Numidia. The men were deeply opposed to the emperors' decisions and used this safe haven as an opportunity to voice their discontent.

Lucilla remained silent, weighed down by the sorrow of being separated from her husband, who had once again departed for the front lines after spending no more than two weeks in her arms. She shared the senators' perspective on the futility of the empire's expansion, especially in light of this year's food shortages and the growing unrest in several provinces. These senseless wars pained the daughter of the great Marcus Aurelius, and like her father, she secretly yearned for a republic—a system where, in her view, decisions were made collectively and wisely. After all, absolute power inevitably corrupts those who wield it. — And what do you think, dear Lucilla? — the elderly Marcus Tullius pulled her out of her thoughts. — I think I would rather see my husband at home and the people in the streets well—fed, but I fear that day will come only after my death, — Lucilla replied briefly, placing her hand trustingly on the senator's forearm. — Perhaps it is not you who should die, — Julius Scipio interjected hastily, adjusting his toga.

After these words, silence fell over the dining hall.

***

Caracalla was in an excellent mood today, lounging on a sumptuous couch in one of the spacious halls of the Palatine Palace. The high ceilings, supported by massive columns, allowed sunlight to flood the space freely, dancing gracefully on the marble walls and reflecting off the intricate floor mosaics. The couches, upholstered in copper—colored silk, were arranged in a semicircle, resembling an amphitheater.

The young emperor reclined carelessly on the central couch, amusing himself by twirling a lock of hair from one of the servants sitting at his feet. The previous day, he had issued orders to send out invitations for a private gladiatorial spectacle, reserved for an exclusive audience. Caracalla had a particular passion for such entertainments, and while regular games required a more significant occasion than his excellent mood and much more time to prepare, private fights served both as a source of personal delight and as a tool of political maneuvering: every noble sought an invitation to bolster their standing or expand their influence.

However, the most sensitive souls could never endure such spectacles, and those who did witness them often expressed unease. Caracalla's cruelty and his love of bloodshed reached extremes: he devised new rules to make the fights even more brutal. At times, gladiators were forced to fight to the death without weapons, or he would order their hands tied behind their backs, compelling them to battle with their teeth and feet like wild beasts. Yet, if the emperor's chosen bet lost, his rage would be swift and unrelenting.

On this clear, warm day, the hall was packed to capacity. Spectators had taken their seats, eagerly awaiting the start of the games. Caracalla had already chosen his favorite among the slave—gladiators—if the man lived up to his expectations, the emperor planned to buy his freedom and take him into his personal service.

Cassius, a lanista—one of the owners of gladiator schools—was the master of the slave on whom Caracalla had placed both his money and hopes. Cassius, not a Roman by birth, had managed to rise to the upper echelons of society through cunning and an unyielding ambition. He diligently sought to please the young ruler, fully aware of the advantages he could gain from the emperor's favor.

The games had begun, and soon the mosaic floor was awash with fresh blood, seeping carelessly into the cracks between the stones and accentuating the intricate patterns. A heavy, faintly perceptible scent of blood and sweat filled the air, causing some guests to grimace and others to stifle the urge to retch.

Servants hurriedly carried away the fallen bodies, leaving faint traces on the mosaic as they worked to ensure the arena could once again become a pristine canvas for the next clash.

Finally, the fight Caracalla had been waiting for arrived. He shifted from his relaxed posture, sitting upright on the couch. His bare feet slid onto the cool surface of the floor, and his toes twitched slightly, as if sensing the impending victory. The emperor's face spread into a grin—wild, almost deranged. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, and his entire body, as if already savoring the triumph to come, leaned forward.

Two gladiators stepped into the center of the hall. They stopped opposite each other, like statues frozen in anticipation. The first, short and stocky, with a powerful build and reddish, sun—scorched skin peeling in places, resembled a bull. His face, marked by a network of small scars, held a sullen expression. Slowly, he raised his massive fists to his chin. His movements were heavy, yet they radiated unyielding strength.

His opponent was the complete opposite. Tall and wiry, with a chiseled physique and rich, almost shimmering dark skin, he stood with ease and agility. His long arms seemed almost too long for the rest of his body, giving him a clear advantage. The young man's gaze exuded calm confidence, as if he already knew the outcome of the battle was decided.

The hall was steeped in anticipation. Even the faintest rustle suddenly felt unbearably loud, as though the very air had grown heavier. Caracalla inclined his head slightly, his gaze fixed intently on the gladiators. His fingers drummed nervously on the edge of the couch, betraying his impatience.

The emperor's wager had to meet his expectations.

All sounds and people seemed to vanish for the two gladiators the moment the signal to begin the fight was given. The air in the hall grew heavy, almost tangible, as though the entire atmosphere had frozen in anticipation. Two bodies surged toward each other with incredible speed, rapidly closing the distance between them. The sunbeams, which had earlier gracefully framed the space, lost their brilliance, shifting into deep hues of an orange sunset. The cries of the spectators melded into a deafening, endless roar, pressing against the ears and rendering everything around blurred and unreal.

The floor beneath the fighters' feet was slick with sweat and blood from earlier battles, causing their movements to appear uncertain, almost unsteady at times. This fight marked the culmination of the evening, the most eagerly anticipated event for the guests, who longed to win and multiply their wagers. For one of these men, this fight was also destined to be their last.

The men traded blows without pause. The first, stocky and powerful, relentlessly pressed his dark—skinned opponent with sheer force, driving him backward. Yet the taller gladiator, despite the onslaught, skillfully dodged the heavy strikes and even managed to counter with sharp, precise attacks of his own. As time wore on, their strikes grew slower, their breathing heavier, and their movements lost their initial sharpness. With all the strength they had left, both struggled to bring each other to the ground.

It became clear, however, that the "bull" was more resilient. The emperor's favorite—a young slave with dark skin—began to falter. His legs betrayed him, trembling uncontrollably, and his breathing grew ragged, tearing at his chest. Sweat dripped in heavy beads from his face, stinging his eyes, yet he could not wipe them away. His vision blurred, and he failed to dodge several painful blows. One of them split his brow, sending a crimson stream of blood cascading down his face, dripping onto his chest and the mosaic floor.

Caracalla clicked his tongue in irritation, gripping a lock of hair at the nape of the servant sitting at his feet. His displeasure rippled through those seated nearby, who shifted uneasily.

The shorter fighter seized the opportunity and lunged forward. Dropping his shoulder, he drove it powerfully into his opponent's stomach. The air whooshed from the young slave's lungs, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. Yet he managed to defend himself, striking the stocky fighter in the chest with his knee, forcing him to stumble back. A sharp crack echoed—the rib had fractured.

Caracalla's favorite, wasting no time, summoned all his remaining strength and delivered a crushing heel strike to his opponent's face, breaking his nose. The stocky fighter fell onto his back, arms splayed, though he was still alive.

Caracalla leapt up in surprise, his hand slipping from the servant's hair. The emperor clapped his hands loudly, grinning with excitement, the jewelry on his wrists jingling with the sharp movement. —  Finish him! — Caracalla shouted to his favorite, clapping his hands so loudly that the sound echoed off the walls. — Kill him! Kill him! — His voice, brimming with impatience, rose to a near—screech.The red—haired emperor stomped barefoot across the mosaic floor, barely containing his excitement.

The slave, hearing the command, threw himself at his opponent lying in a pool of blood without hesitation. He landed several sharp blows to the fallen man's face, turning his already battered features into a bloody pulp. His heart pounded so violently it felt as though it might burst from his chest. In that moment, he no longer saw a man before him, but the embodiment of death—one that, by some lucky chance, had once again passed him by.

The dark—skinned gladiator grabbed his opponent's chin, staring into his face with a smirk. Then, deciding to finish him for good, he shifted his hands to the man's neck, squeezing tighter and tighter. But at the last moment, as if driven by sheer desperation, the stocky man raised his hands and clutched the back of his attacker's head. His fingers plunged deep into the eye sockets of his enemy. A sickening, squelching sound filled the air, prompting many spectators to avert their gaze instinctively.

The slave's scream pierced the hall. He frantically clawed at his opponent's hands, trying to pry them away from his face, but the grip was too strong. The man, who had been lying helpless just moments before, rolled onto his side and then propped himself up on an elbow, ending up on top. His fingers remained deeply embedded in his rival's eyes as the dark—skinned fighter writhed in agony.

Finally, the stocky gladiator, now towering over his opponent, grabbed his head and began slamming it against the mosaic floor, each blow harder than the last. A sickening crunch echoed, followed by a spray of blood mingled with brain matter. The floor beneath them turned sticky, and the cries ceased. The dark—skinned slave went limp, his hands falling lifelessly to his sides, fingers unclenched.

The fight was over.

Caracalla froze, watching the final moments of his favorite's life. His face, brimming with excitement just seconds ago, now bore no expression. The emperor seemed to have turned to stone, except for his fingers, which tapped softly against the fabric—covered seat.

The guests remained silent, exchanging uneasy glances as they awaited their ruler's reaction. But Caracalla seemed utterly oblivious to them. —  You knew he would lose, didn't you? — he said, his voice hoarse, as though it no longer belonged to him.

Cassius, seated to the young emperor's left, flinched and then began to stammer, almost squealing as he spoke: — M—my Emperor, w—w—what are you... This was my best f—fighter... — The lanista raised his hands in a defensive gesture, turning his entire body toward Caracalla.

The room fell silent. In the vast hall, bathed in crimson light from the setting sun, a suffocating tension filled the air. —  You knew! — Caracalla suddenly shrieked, springing to his feet. He shoved the servant at his feet away, striking him with the back of his hand so hard the sound reverberated under the high ceilings. In an instant, the emperor was looming over the terrified Cassius. His pale blue eyes glinted with madness, his pupils so tightly constricted they looked as if he were staring directly into the blazing sun. —  I will punish you, — he continued, his voice still unnaturally high—pitched. At the end of the sentence, he let out a hoarse laugh, as though unable to contain the malice surging within him. — I will puuuunish you! — he repeated, drawing out the words like a child toying with his victim.

The young emperor suddenly seized the lanista by the back of his neck and slowly leaned toward his ear. His voice dropped, quieter now but no less threatening: —  You stole from me the joy of victory. I must take something from you in return.— Cassius tried to jerk away, to pull back, but Caracalla's hands held him with alarming strength. The grip was almost painful, a stark contrast to the emperor's otherwise frail physique. —  Perhaps an ear? Or a tongue? So you can no longer lie to me about your fighters. I really, really don't like being lied to. What's your name again?— The final words sounded almost like a joke. Caracalla chuckled briefly, but there was no joy in his laughter—only mounting tension.

Despite his desperate attempts to explain and plead his case, the lanista failed to placate the young ruler. Caracalla pulled away from him with a look of disgust, as if the mere contact with Cassius was an insult in itself. Lazily, he waved his hand, signaling the Praetorians to seize the offender and drag him to the center of the hall, where the fallen slave still lay.

Cassius struggled, but his feet slipped on the crimson liquid coating the mosaic floor. He writhed in the guards' grasp, trying with all his might to break free and return to his seat. As he was hauled closer to the center, the lanista broke into sobs, begging for mercy. His voice cracked, and his words were drowned in hysterical gasps as he cried out that it was all a mistake, that he deserved another chance.

The emperor was unmoved by Cassius's cries. On the contrary, Caracalla let out an unpleasant, high—pitched giggle that grew louder and sharper with each second. None of the guests dared to intervene. Their silence wasn't a show of disdain for the lanista—they simply feared ending up in his place.

The scene was absurd, terrifying, and cruel. Cassius, trembling on his knees, was held upright by the Praetorians. His toga and tunic, soaked with another man's blood, made a sickening squelch with every movement. He screamed and sobbed so desperately that it was unbearable to watch without shuddering. —  Cut out his tongue,— Caracalla ordered, leaning back on the couch and resuming his reclined position. His face spread into a broad grin, as if the unfolding events were a source of amusement to him. —  No! Please! My Emperor, I beg you!— Cassius choked out, barely able to string words together. His body trembled violently, and his eyes filled with tears.

Footsteps echoed through the hall. Geta entered, accompanied by several praetorians. His face bore signs of fatigue, though he didn't appear alarmed. He had likely just returned from a drawn—out military council—the very one his brother had chosen to ignore. Whether Caracalla refused to attend or had simply forgotten, as he sometimes did, remained unclear.

Geta paused, surveying the scene and taking in the atmosphere. His brown eyes moved slowly across the hall until they met his brother's gaze. The young emperor tapped his fingers lightly on his thigh, unnoticed by the others, as though weighing his words, before taking a few more steps forward. —  Caracalla,— Geta called out to his brother, who lay at the center of the spectacle. — Is this how we treat our guests?

His twin's gaze sharpened immediately. He sat up and, without hesitation, snapped back: —  He's guilty,— he said irritably, sounding like a boy trying to justify his actions. —  Enough to justify torturing him like this?— Geta retorted calmly, maintaining his composure.

A tense silence filled the hall.

After a moment, Geta gave a short but firm order for everyone to leave the hall, leaving the brothers alone. The crowd, eager to obey, scattered in haste, as if their very lives depended on following the command.

***

When the hall finally emptied, Geta allowed himself a weary sigh. He closed his eyes and rubbed his eyelids with a hand adorned with rings set with large stones. —  You wanted to humiliate me! — Caracalla suddenly exploded, leaping to his feet and striding toward his brother, his bare feet splashing in the pools of blood. —  You can't maim people—Roman citizens—just because you feel like it, Cara, — Geta said without moving, watching as his brother clumsily stepped over the dead slave's body. —  You weren't here! You don't know how he deceived me!— the red—haired emperor continued, advancing confidently. — Maybe you want to deceive me too? Or mock me?— His anger mounted, his voice growing louder with each word. He wasn't just walking now—he had broken into a hurried stride. —  Caracalla, stop,— Geta said calmly.

He knew exactly what would happen next. It always did when his older brother lost control. Caracalla would lash out with fists, sticks, or sometimes even grab a weapon or anything heavy within reach. These outbursts didn't happen often, but they left behind cold memories and painful bruises.

The red—haired emperor charged at him suddenly, shoving Geta in the chest and hooking his leg in an obvious attempt to bring him down. He shouted insults mixed with incoherent phrases, attacking with ferocity. At one point, he managed to grip Geta tightly enough to throw him off balance. But the younger brother didn't fall backward onto the mosaic; instead, he dropped to his knees, maintaining his coordination.

Caracalla didn't stop. Consumed by his emotions, he had already completely forgotten what had caused the conflict. All he could see were his brother's weary eyes, desperately trying to stay upright.

Geta held his brother's arms tightly, preventing him from changing their position. The expensive fabric of their togas strained and tore under the tension.

—  Caracalla, calm down!— the younger brother shouted, his voice loud and firm, while mentally running through options to subdue his relentless sibling and force him to listen.

Caracalla continued to struggle, stubbornly trying to win this absurd fight. Geta decided to lean back, lowering himself to the floor and pulling his unruly brother down with him. Caught off guard, Caracalla fell onto him, but Geta seized the moment, swiftly flipping the older brother off him and pinning him beneath. He pressed Caracalla's arms above his head.

From the side, it looked more like a childish scuffle. Caracalla growled angrily and flailed, trying to break free from the firm grip, but to no avail. Frustrated, he began kicking his brother in the back, landing painful blows. Geta winced but didn't loosen his hold. —  Calm down!— he repeated, leaning closer to his brother's face, but his words had no effect.

In desperation, Geta abruptly grabbed Caracalla by the shoulders, lifted his upper body off the floor, and gave him a violent shake.

The golden wreath slipped from Caracalla's head, hitting the floor with a loud clang and rolling off somewhere. The red—haired emperor froze, blinking. —  What? Are you trying to kill me?— Geta muttered tiredly, still holding his brother by the shoulders.

Caracalla suddenly burst into laughter, throwing his head back before snapping it forward again, meeting his brother's gaze. —  Nonsense,— Caracalla finally replied, his voice unexpectedly calm. — You're my brother. I wouldn't kill you.

He softened, easing the tension in his body, and Geta, sensing the change, reluctantly released his grip.

The younger brother removed his hands but remained seated on Caracalla for a while longer, ready to stop any new outburst. However, Caracalla showed no signs of aggression. On the contrary, he sprawled out on the floor, arms spread wide. Satisfied that the danger had passed, Geta slowly rolled onto his side and then settled next to him on the cold mosaic.

—  Why didn't you come to the council meeting?— he asked after catching his breath. Turning his head, he looked at his brother. —  You didn't say anything about a meeting,— Caracalla responded immediately, meeting his gaze. —  I told you yesterday. Several times,— Geta replied calmly, studying the thoughtful expression on his brother's face. —  Oh, I don't remember much about yesterday,— the red—haired emperor drawled, as though discussing something trivial. — Must not have been an important meeting if I forgot about it.

Geta frowned and shifted onto his side to be closer to his brother. His feelings were mixed: on one hand, he was alarmed by the thought that Caracalla's memory lapses might become more frequent. On the other hand, he realized he couldn't fully rely on his brother. And yet, it saddened him to see Caracalla losing himself without even being aware of it. —  It was a military council, Cara. It was important,— he finally said. —  But you were there, so you'll tell me everything, won't you?— the older brother replied serenely, not breaking eye contact. —  Of course, I'll tell you,— Geta agreed, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch his brother. Instead, he simply kept his gaze fixed on him, sinking deeper into his thoughts.

Though Caracalla's fits of rage weren't rare, Geta didn't think of him as weak and had no doubts about his intellect. He knew how to handle his brother's moods for now, but he worried about what to do if they worsened. Still, despite everything, he loved his brother and was always ready to protect him.

[beardedmrbean]

FRANKFORT, Ky. (LEX 18) — Kentucky State Senator Robin Webb of Carter County has switched her party affiliation from Democrat to Republican, saying the Republican Party better aligns with the values she and her constituents hold.

"I've not changed. I will not change. My voting record will not change. It's just sort of where my voting record has landed me," Webb told LEX 18 in her new office in Frankfort.

The longtime lawmaker's switch, announced on May 30, marks the end of Democratic representation from rural areas in the Kentucky Senate. The change shifts the balance to 32 Republicans and six Democrats, further strengthening the GOP's supermajority.

Webb said the division between her and the Democratic Party began over energy policy, particularly her strong support for coal and diversified energy policy, and further grew apart over social issues like trans athletes in women's sports.

"It's come to the forefront, particularly on the national level, on some cultural issues, some second amendment issues, and just rural value issues. Women's sports is for one. We fought awful hard to get to Title IX. I really don't want to see that undermined as a former Title IX athlete," Webb said. "Just those kinds of things have accumulated through the years."

In the Republican Party of Kentucky's press release announcing Webb's switch, Webb said she believes the Democratic Party left her.

“While it’s cliché, it’s true: I didn’t leave the party — the party left me,” Webb said in the press release. “The Kentucky Democratic Party has increasingly alienated lifelong rural Democrats like myself by failing to support the issues that matter most to rural Kentuckians."

"A lot of people have felt that way," Webb further explained to LEX 18. "So, in those areas that I discussed previously, I think that they have [left] people like me and not really acknowledged or paid attention to the rural issues or the cultural issues that are important to a lot of Kentuckians, especially in east Kentucky. So, yeah, I think the emphasis has not been on including those views."

Webb noted that her voting record, even as a Democrat, has reflected her values. She also points out that she was originally a Republican before switching to the Democratic Party earlier in her career.

Why did she make that initial switch from red to blue years ago?

"I was a coalminer, and I value what unions did to make me - to enable me as a woman to pursue my occupational goal and do it in a safe manner. All the blood, sweat, and tears that went on before me - and I thought that was a value," Webb said.

"It's just - the tenants of the union," Webb added.

Webb said she was thinking about making the change back to the GOP for a while now, but decided the time was right as her seat is on the ballot in 2026. She told LEX 18 News she wanted her constituents to have plenty of notice about the change.

While Republicans have praised her decision to switch affiliation, the Democratic Party of Kentucky criticized the move.

In a statement, the Democratic Party Chairman said: "Senator Webb has chosen to join a political party that is currently working around the clock to take health care away from over a million Kentuckians, wipe out our rural hospitals, take food off the table of Kentucky families and take resources away from our public schools. If those are her priorities, then we agree: she isn't a Democrat."

On social media, Webb's cousin claimed the senator had promised to run as a Democrat in her final campaign.

"Senator Webb promised me and other young, aspiring Eastern Kentucky Democrats her commitment to one final run for Senate District 18 next year as a Democratic candidate," Nicholas Hazelett wrote on X on May 30th. "But that promise she even gave to us again last week at Grayson Memory Days was all smoke and mirrors. She chose to deceive her supporters, proteges, and constituents for personal job security heading into re-election next year."

Webb disputes having made such a promise.

"I don't even recall having a substantive conversation about politics at all, but I wouldn't have said that. I've been contemplating this. You can look at my fundraising and see how long I've been contemplating this - probably a couple of years at least. I haven't raised any money thinking I didn't want to be that person that does that," Webb said.

[saras-devotionals]

Quiet Time 8/20

What am I feeling today?

I had a bit of a nightmare last night and I also spent wayyy too much time in bed today. Got up around noon which is hours later than I wanted to. I just feel like I’m in a depressive episode. I just don’t really feel much lately, numb and out of it but I need to get back in the rhythm of things! I’ll work on a study for my heart today and I’ll talk through these empty feelings w my discipler.

Six Keys to Sexual Purity

Key #6 - Seek Accountability Partners to Help with Temptation

Having friends who are on the same journey is always a plus when you want to avoid temptation. You can help each other stay focused on your goals. Just remember to be honest, transparent, supportive, and trustworthy.

When seeking an accountability partner, you should have standards, set expectations, and establish boundaries. Your accountability partner should be someone who is of the same sex. Selecting a same-sex accountability partner is major because there are instances when temptation can arise when opposite-sex accountability partners connect. Your accountability partner should also be someone who will tell you the truth–even if it hurts. Proverbs 15:22 says, "Without counsel, plans fail, but with many advisers, they succeed" (ESV). If you're trying to live a pure life, you should seek counsel from someone whose life reflects the fruit associated with Godly living, not someone who isn't even trying to walk in sexual purity.

We want to offer you a few tips to make the most of your accountability partnership:

Tip 1: Plan and Set Aside a Designated Time for Check-in

Discuss expectations when you first connect. Identify a regular time to meet; determine how you'll meet (e.g., video chat, call, text); and decide how long you'll meet (e.g., 15 minutes, 30 minutes). Put the designated time on your calendar, and treat it as a fixed appointment.

Tip 2: Share Your Journey

Be vulnerable and honest with your struggles. We overcome the enemy by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony, and we love not our lives to the death. This means, to experience true freedom, you must share your testimony.

Tip 3: Choose One Thing to Conquer

Sometimes, attempts to overcome multiple issues all at once lead to failure. Instead, create accountability sessions that focus on one problem at a time. This method will help you better track your progress and communicate strengths and challenges to your partner without being overwhelmed.

Tip 4: Celebrate Your Wins

Base all of your communication around positive reinforcement. This doesn't mean you're both perfect and everything is great. This means every step in the right direction toward purity should be acknowledged and applauded.

Tip 5: Be Willing to Change Partners

If your partner starts to disappear or misses a scheduled time on more than one occasion, politely end the partnership. Take responsibility and notify your partner that the partnership isn't working out for you. Then pray and ask God to connect you with someone more compatible. Time is of the essence. There is no time to waste, especially if you're serious about your purity journey.

These are just a few tips to get you started with your accountability partner. Please feel free to adjust as needed and create a mutually beneficial plan.

Reflection:

Do you have an accountability partner? If not, ask God to connect you with other Believers who can help support and encourage you on the journey.

I do!🙂‍↕️ Everyone who is a member of our church is assigned a discipler. They are basically someone who serves as a mentor, teacher, and someone to hold us accountable. We meet every single week and strive for daily communication because Christianity is not something that you can do on your own. You need the community and the church (although, this does not replace your personal relationship with God).

Proverbs 27:6 NIV

“Wounds from a friend can be trusted, but an enemy multiplies kisses.”

I think sometimes people struggle with this. We know that there are times when we make mistakes or need correction and when it comes from a friend it is out of love because they care about us, this is no malicious intent behind it and we shouldn’t treat as if it is.

Proverbs 15:22 NIV

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.”

This is very important! we might think that we know the correct way or that our plans are right, but we must seek counsel from God in prayer and from other righteous people. They may have advice or insight that you have not seen. Or maybe, some people refuse counsel because they either know that their plan is wrong or for fear that they’ll be given advice they don’t want. For the sake of your righteous, seek counsel no matter what.

Psalm 1:1-3 NIV

“Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither— whatever they do prospers.”

Our goal and our desire should be to delight in the Lord! Cherishing and reading His word night and day instead of being caught up in the wickedness of the world. I want to be this person again. I used to be so fired up for Him but I feel that my flame has dimmed considerably. I’m trying to reignite my passion and I’m making progress but I’m still a far way off. Please pray for my heart in this area.

1 Peter 3:15 NIV

“But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect,”

Sometimes I think about this and the only reason I can give is that it’s the truth. Women studied the Bible with me and taught me so much and I witnessed my life and my character transform into something new and time and time again God has listened to me, and answered my prayers, and blessed me even through my times of hardship. I know that it is nothing I have done but all through God working in my life. I pray that all of you

1 Thessalonians 5:11 NIV

“Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.”

‭‭there is great importance in this actually! There’s another scripture in Hebrews where it says we must encourage one another daily in order to protect our hearts from sin.

Proverbs 27:17 NIV

“As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

Just a reiteration that we cannot do this alone. That we need other people to hold us accountable and being open with each other so we can help one another in our journeys.

[blogger360ncislarules]

When Wolf Hall: The Mirror and the Light premiered in the U.K. last year, it enjoyed a rapturous reception, with critics lauding it as “so beautifully made it’s breathtaking” and “a complete triumph.” But to hear director Peter Kosminsky tell it, the sequel to 2015’s Wolf Hall nearly didn’t get made at all.

“Six weeks from production, we were shutting down. There was no way around,” remembers Kosminsky of the second season, which adapts the final novel in Hilary Mantel’s trilogy about Henry VIII advisor and fixer Thomas Cromwell. “We were so far adrift on the money and we had cut and cut and cut.” At a late-night production meeting, the director and an executive producer made a dramatic pact: To save the project, they would give up major parts of their fees. Writer Peter Straughan (who recently won an Oscar for Conclave) and star Mark Rylance (Dunkirk) later joined in, also taking significant salary cuts.

The arrangement allowed them to begin shooting, and starting Sunday night, U.S. audiences will be able to begin viewing the result on Masterpiece on PBS, nearly 10 years after the first season. The six-part series is a big period drama, filmed by candlelight in real Tudor-era (and older) locations, with intricate costumes and finely tuned performances from British acting stalwarts — just some of the features that helped Wolf Hall pick up a Golden Globe, a Peabody and eight Emmy nominations in 2015 and 2016. Still, series creatives say the sequel was nearly bested by its funding issues, a story that reflects how high-end British dramas produced outside the streaming ecosystem are increasingly challenged.

When Wolf Hall premiered in 2015, combining the first two books in Mantel’s trilogy, The Mirror & the Light book hadn’t yet been finished. Mantel was open about the fact that she found writing about this final stage of Cromwell’s life difficult: Though the lawyer remains a controversial historical figure, her novels paint him in a sympathetic light, charting his rise from a battered blacksmith’s son to a canny mover and shaker in the royal court. Still, the production team generally believed that they would be embarking on a sequel once the source material was published, given that executive producer Colin Callender had optioned all the novels and Wolf Hall had been a critical success.

The relationship between Mantel and director Kosminsky had become a close one on Wolf Hall and so, as she worked on her final Cromwell novel, Mantel turned her role as adviser to the TV series on its head. She began sending 100-page excerpts of her unfinished manuscript to the director, “asking me to comment, insisting that I comment, can you imagine?” Kosminsky remembers. “I don’t have any literary pretensions. So I did my best. And she changed things.”

He reveals for the first time publicly that he asked whether there were any further scenes charting the deterioration of Cromwell’s relationship with the character William FitzWilliam — and the author subsequently wrote some. Once The Mirror & the Light was published in 2020, returning screenwriter Straughan began wrestling with adapting the book’s 700-plus pages.

But then tragedy struck. The writing process was nearly two-thirds complete, with casting and location scouting underway, when in September 2022, Mantel unexpectedly died after suffering a stroke. According to Kosminsky, at that point, the production seriously discussed canceling the second season out of respect for the author. Eventually, though, the creatives agreed they wanted to make the show as a memorial to Mantel. “If it hadn’t been for the support of the BBC and Masterpiece at that point, when our morale was pretty low, I think there might’ve been a different outcome,” says Kosminsky.

That strong loyalty to Mantel helps explain how the production survived its financing challenges. There were many hurdles to bringing The Mirror and the Light to life — the scheduling of various major stars and shoots at National Trust properties (historic buildings that are open to the public), for instance — but the price tag was paramount. “The costs in England for production over the years have escalated astronomically,” explains producer Colin Callender, whose Playground Entertainment also produces All Creatures Great and Small. Spurred by the entrance of U.S.-based streamers into the local production market, the costs of casts, crews and vendors have skyrocketed, while the money that broadcasters funnel into productions in the U.K. haven’t kept up, he says. General increases in cost of living and interest rates have also complicated matters; and the insurance on this project in particular was “crippling,” describes Kosminsky. “It’s a problem across the whole of the British industry and it’s particularly affecting top-end British drama,” Callender says.

The costs for The Mirror and the Light nearly doubled what was spent on Wolf Hall, according to Callender. The BBC contributed what it could, and Masterpiece “reached very deeply into our pockets,” says the program’s executive producer, Susanne Simpson. But it still wasn’t enough, prompting the late-night emergency meeting of creatives weeks before production began. As to why so many of the project’s filmmakers were ultimately open to taking a financial hit in order to see the project through, writer Straughan points to their fealty for Mantel: “I think there was a tremendous loyalty to her, to the project, from all of us,” he says.

Even so, the series had to pinch pennies to make its budget. The second-season shoot “was five times harder [than the first] because the money was so tight,” says Kosminsky. He recalls once doing 40 setups in a day, as opposed to his usual rate of doing around half that amount. One day, he remembers having six actors around a table, barely moving, as 14 pages of “solid dialogue” was shot in the day. “It was insane stuff. I’ve never done anything like it and I don’t ever want to do anything like it again,” he adds.

The team made it work: The Mirror and the Light picks up where Wolf Hall left off, with Rylance’s Cromwell at the peak of his powers following the execution of Anne Boleyn (played in the first season by Claire Foy). But as his king’s new wife Jane Seymour (Kate Phillips) fails to provide him a male heir and an uprising in the north of England threatens the delicate state of the realm, Cromwell’s enemies begin to circle while the king (Damian Lewis) grows ever more unpredictable. Most of the first season’s actors return, with two notable exceptions being Bernard Hill (who died in May 2024 and is replaced as the Duke of Norfolk by Timothy Spall) and Tom Holland (who skyrocketed to stardom as Spider-Man after appearing as Cromwell’s son on Wolf Hall and wasn’t available this time around). Reviews in the U.S. have so far been positive.

Though The Mirror and the Light made it, its struggles are emblematic of the larger hurdles facing producers working on projects for U.K. public service broadcasters like the BBC, ITV or Channel 4, according to its creatives.

Kosminsky submitted written evidence to a U.K. parliamentary committee investigating the state of local film and high-end television, published this past January, that asserted that The Mirror and the Light couldn’t be made today. Streamers had all been pitched and rejected the original Wolf Hall; they generally do not co-produce with public service broadcasters, preferring to own all the intellectual property. Meanwhile, the local inflation that Kosminsky argues they’ve helped to create has made shows like The Mirror and the Light very difficult to fund. Kosminsky and British producer Jane Featherstone (Black Doves, Chernobyl) both have told the committee that there are projects at public service broadcasters that have been greenlit but are in limbo as they wait for adequate funding.

In this high-cost environment, the U.S.-based Masterpiece has joined projects earlier on as a co-producer and, in some cases, a commissioner, rather than a later co-producer or just a distributor, the roles it has historically served for U.K. projects. And even though the U.S. entertainment industry is contracting, prices in the U.K. haven’t declined accordingly, says Masterpiece EP Simpson. The U.K. remains an incredibly attractive option for producers in cost-cutting mode, given its generous tax incentives. “We do have to pay more for shows than we ever have before,” Simpson says.

The Mirror and the Light, then, may be a period piece in more ways than one unless something changes. Says Kosminsky, “The truth is the BBC and Masterpiece moved heaven and earth to get this show made, and some of us made our own contributions, but the world has moved on since. I wouldn’t have said this in front of the House of Commons if I didn’t mean it: It wouldn’t get made now and neither would a number of shows.”