#If I haven't been sleeping/working I've been having these on in the background

[enigmatist17]

I have 3 movies that have my recovering ass in a chokehold, as I've not been able to move around and do much, and I'm just here for the ride at this point??

Can YOU spot my favorites?

[murdrdocs]

disclaimer: this is a piece of fictional work. although based on real people, the characters—and circumstances—presented are entirely fictional and should be treated as such.

jack's away for work, but you convince him to call you for a bit. slight power dynamics; phone sex; masturbation; lowkey fluff MDNI 18+ w/ JACK SCHLOSSBERG

as soon as he answers the call, you can tell he's a little tipsy. there's a shine to his eyes, his gaze more relaxed than usual, his blinks less punctual as he stares down into the phone almost at an aerial view.

then he speaks, an energetic, drawn out and almost bimbo-esque "hey" yelled right into the microphone. there's commotion in the background, music and chatter layered together with an almost synthetic perfection.

"hey, where are you?" you squint at the screen, already swiping out of facetime and clicking on his location whenever he starts answering.

"uh i'm out. at dinner. want me to call you later?"

by the time later comes, you might be knocked out and drooling into the pillows with your phone limply hanging in your hand.

but you've been dying to talk to him. you've seen nothing but media coverage of his day—tiktoks from students on campus, tweets from people who claim to have walked by him while he was on his ripstick, a few pictures with curt messages sent from him. you haven't actually spoken to jack since early this morning when you were still too tired, sleep still clouding your vision as you answered his phone call.

you're desperate to speak to him while you're mostly coherent, so you agree.

you hang up after he gives you three exaggerated kisses into the camera. you wait for a while, watch a few episodes of a show you stopped watching months ago, read a few articles you've been meaning to get to. you consider a snack, maybe something a little sweet, but that requires getting out of bed and the mattress and sheets have already conformed to perfectly house your body. in the spirit of comfort, you stay put.

when your phone vibrates against the sheets, it crudely wakes you up. it takes a second for your heart rate to calm down, but you don't focus on that when you accept jack's call—not a facetime this time which you're a little upset about, but you won't complain.

you put it on speaker and snuggle back under the duvet.

"hey, honey."

you hum, trying to fight off a yawn as you stretch, responding to him all the while.

"you were asleep, weren't you?" he sounds like he's exerting himself. you assume he's walking back to his hotel.

"yeah, but it's fine. what's up? are you heading back to your room?"

"nah, i've been back for a little while now. are you sure you don't wanna go back to sleep?"

you smile a little, slowly waking up by the minute. "i'm sure, jack. i wanna talk to you."

a second passes and your eyelids are getting heavier. you adjust yourself to sit up a bit more in effort to stay awake.

"where'd you go for dinner?" you ask him.

"there was this uh ... this historic place not far from the hotel. i went with a few people i met earlier."

"yeah? how was the food?"

he takes a breath, a sharp inhale that's followed by sounds of rustling. "it's was okay, y'know? like you could tell the chefs cared about what they were doing but i wouldn't say it was made with love."

you snort. "food that's made with love's gonna be hard to find."

"hey, we did it once, we can do it again."

you agree halfheartedly, solely because you're so tired that you cant even think to open your mouth right now. it's quiet again and there's a sound on the other side of the line. it sounds familiar, or at least familiar enough. if you weren't between sleep and wake you might've figured it out by now.

he covers the noise with his voice. "what about you? what're you doing?"

"laying in bed. feels nice to lay on your side for once."

"hey!" he sounds offended, but you know he doesn't mean it. "don't get too comfortable. you're gonna fuck up the feng shui."

"i'm not touching anything, i promise."

this time he hums noncommittally. you're sure he knows you've adjusted his pillows to your liking, using the one that smells the most like him as your own personal stuffed animal.

"can i be cliché for a second?"

the switch is abrupt. you hesitate, narrowing your eyes down at the phone as if you could see jack. you wish you could.

"sure...? but before you do that, why aren't we facetiming?"

"it felt too intimate."

"too intimate? how?"

"just ... just let me say my cliché line, okay?"

"okay." you laugh a bit, sitting back and waiting for whatever jack's gonna say this time.

he waits and you don't know if it's because he's nervous, or because he's trying to build suspense. with jack, it could really be either.

he takes a breath and you prepare yourself.

"what're you wearing?" he deepens his voice as he says it, like he's trying to make you laugh. and you do. you tilt your head back and let out an honest, good laugh. but then you realize that while he was making you laugh, he wasn't joking.

you put it together.

not facetiming because it felt 'too intimate' for him, the sounds on the other side of the line—slick sounds that you know far too well—his cliché ask to know what you're wearing.

"you're a pervert, you know that?"

"only because you love to remind me every 3 business days."

"just telling the truth, baby."

"c'mon," he shifts again and you wonder how long he's been at this. has he been edging himself? waiting to hear about your day before he cued you in on what he was doing? how long did he wait to call you? "tell me what you're wearing. i need the image."

you pull your legs up beneath the duvet, bringing the covering with you.

"nothing too sexy, don't get your hopes up. just my underwear and a shirt."

jack groans but not out of pleasure. out of frustration. "yeah and that really narrows it down. give me some description, some color. really paint a picture."

you groan. he's so demanding tonight.

"fine. black panties, the lacy boy short ones. and that creed shirt i bought like two months ago. the impulse purchase."

his hum is one of satisfaction. he sighs and you hear a croak, as if he'd just opened his mouth and let whatever sound brewing in his throat come out without conscious orchestration.

"will you touch yourself, too? i don't wanna be the only one doing it," he asks.

you consider it, but even the thought of lifting your hand and spreading your legs tires you out. you're still barely awake as is, and an orgasm would help put you right to sleep, but you don't want it right now.

"not tonight."

"tomorrow?" his voice is full of so much hope that you grin.

"yeah, tomorrow. sure." you chew on your bottom lip. "if you let me see when you come."

there's a single moment that passes and then the picture of jack's contact turns into a reflection of you. you don't waste anytime answering the incoming facetime call, instantly clicking the green and then lifting the phone to a full image of your face.

the sight is as beautiful as you thought it would be. jack is illuminated mostly by the reflection of you. there's a slight warm light source coming from in front of him, maybe a lamp, but most of the light comes from only you.

he has you looking at him from a downward angle, as if his phone is sitting right atop one of his thighs. he stares down at you for a few moments, his eyes heavy and lidded, completely relaxed. his tongue flicks out over his lips and then he leaves them parted. he's not as quiet as he was before, letting audible breaths slip out. you can hear the shlick of his hand gliding over his dick, too.

you wanna see that angle, too, but you can tell he's close and you don't wanna risk missing that. so you sit and watch, taking note of the small pinch between his eyebrows, the way he sucks in air through his teeth as he winces, his head tipping back. he's bracing himself and you see the exact moment where his orgasm happens.

he's talking to you, telling you he's close, instinctively chanting "almost there, almost there, just a bit more" like he usually does when you're together.

he tenses for a moment, the dimples in his cheeks pronounced, and then he relaxes. his features soften, his eyes stay closed but his eyebrows lift. he looks completely at peace.

he's coming down when you tell him, "you're so pretty". he grins, big and earnest.

"you're prettier," he tells you as he offsets the camera, giving you a view of the pillows until he corrects it. "you wanna accompany me in the shower?"

again, you agree, but it's not much accompanying as you're dozing off by the time the water temperature has been set exactly to jack's liking and he's finally standing under the stream.

you fall asleep to the sound of water running and jack singing unwritten.

[moonchildstyles]

First time sex with rosemary 🌿

wordcount: 9k

—————

Wiping her floured hands on her apron, (Y/N) brushed her hair out of her face with her wrist before reaching towards her back pocket for her vibrating phone. Her lips curled into a soft smile seeing Harry's name on her screen, his contact featuring a photo of him sleepy-eyed next to his kitten in her bed had her smile stretching wider. Taking a quick glance at the time, she was sure he'd just made it back to his apartment after finishing up at the grocery store. 

Quickly, she peeled her gloves from her hands and peeked out into the storefront of the bakery. Just as she had left it a handful of minutes before, there weren't any patrons now that the morning rush had passed, leaving Sabrina tucked behind the desk with her book folded open. 

"Hey, I'm going to take my fifteen really quick. Is that okay?" As soon as Sabrina gave her the go ahead with a wave of her hand with her eyes still stuck to her book, (Y/N) was answering the call with a tap of her thumb. "Harry?" she greeted, stepping out back of the bakery for a bit of privacy in the mid-morning air. 

"Hi, peach," he murmured through the receiver, voice drooping and soft, "Is it alright that I called you? I know you're still working, so." 

"Your timing was perfect, actually," she told him, knowing he was probably more worried than he was letting on for fear of having ruined her day, "Everything just cleared out from this morning, and I needed a break." 

"Yeah? Long shift already?" he pressed, the sound of sheets shuffling on the other side with a petite meow chirping through. 

"A little bit, yeah," she sighed, wishing she was wrapped up in warm sheets with Harry and Rosemary, "Just one of those Sunday morning shifts, you know. How was your night, though? Work was okay?" 

"Yeah," he said, the syllable floating out on a long suffering sigh, "Theo and Brett were still annoying, but I think Fawn is going to cover one of my shifts this week." 

(Y/N) immediately perked up at the new information. She'd been urging him to take some time off this past month; he didn't have to work himself to the bone anymore, not now that his issues from back home had been resolved. It was unhealthy, she'd told him more than once—he would make himself sick with more than just exhaustion if he wasn't careful. 

"Really? What day?" she bubbled off, ready and willing to shift her own schedule around if he wanted. 

"Thursday." 

She could hear the smile in his voice as he uttered the words. He knew what reaction he was going to get. 

"Are you serious?" she beamed, bouncing on the soles of her feet, "You have the whole weekend off then?" 

"I do, yeah. So do you." 

"Harry," she bleated, "I'm so excited! We haven't had any time together I feel like, and now we get a whole weekend! Thank you!" 

"That's what I was thinking when I made my request; barely seen you this past week. 'S not fair." 

"It's not," she affirmed, "You haven't even been able to sleep over since Friday. I'm not used to that." 

"Me neither, peach," he murmured, his tone decidedly more somber than just a moment before though she understood where he was coming from. 

Ever since their impromptu road trip, they tended to have as many sleepovers as their schedules would allow. Besides the comfort that came along with being at each other's side—especially in the case of Harry's frequent nightmares—, it was hard to forget how much they liked sharing a bed and sitting down for meals together. 

"Did you want to do anything special?" she prompted, already racking her brain for anything that Harry would enjoy leaving the house for. 

"I've got to go to the library at some point," he mused, another chirping meow sounding from the background prompting a huff of laughter to leave his lips, "But, other than that, I was hoping I could catch up on m'sleep." 

"We can do that," (Y/N) decided, shifting her view of the days off to turn into cozy sheets and breakfasts in bed, "A weekend long sleepover. We'll make a thing of it." 

"Yeah?" Harry asked, a smile audible in his tone—a vision that had (Y/N)'s chest warming. "How are we gonna do that?" 

She hummed, sifting through her ideas before landing on a few to share, "Probably movies if we have the attention span for it—if not, we can read together or something. We can do face masks too—Ooh, or I'll get another of that hair mask you like. Let me think, but I have some ideas." 

"'M sure y'do, peach," he murmured, his voice decidedly lower and slower than before, sleep vining around the edges of his words, "Whatever y'want, we'll do. I trust you." 

"I'll make sure we make a thing of it, H," she told him, reluctant to say her next words but knowing he needed to get as much sleep as he could manage, "I've got to get back to the ovens, but I'll text you when I'm off." 

"Yeah?" he mumbled, "Tell me when y'get home?" 

"You've got it," she smiled, feeling the winter sun warm on her cheeks, "Goodnight, H."

"Goodnight, peach." 

With that, (Y/N) ended the call. Hopefully, he would be able to sleep through the rest of her shift at least. He just needed to get through the next few days, then he'd have some time off to spend at her gingerbread house. 

The thought had that soft curl on her lips feeling permanent. She would have to remind him how proud she was that he was taking a couple of days off, the time well-deserved. 

Just like she said, she would make a thing of it, she only had to figure out what a thing for Harry looked like. 

—————

With Rosemary wriggling in his arms, Harry nearly fumbled his keys to the ground while on (Y/N)'s stoop. She was a calm little thing nearly any other time of the day, but as soon as they were at (Y/N)'s door, Rosie couldn't settle. 

Keeping his hold on her tight, he was able to finally stumble through the door before letting her spill out of his arms. Her feet pattered over the hardwood, beelining for the kitchen just as he knew she would. Harry could only shake his head as he kicked off his shoes by the door, setting them next to (Y/N)'s under the foyer table. He couldn't stay mad, though, especially not when he heard the familiar cooing of his peach filtering down the hall. 

"Where's your daddy, Rosie?" (Y/N) crooned, voice a soft murmur through the house, "We've got to talk to him about how hungry you are when you come over. Is he not giving you enough treats?"

Following the sound of her voice, Harry's lips curled instinctively into a soft smile when he spotted (Y/N) crouched next to his kitten, fingers massaging through her fur. There was a part of him that wanted to peer out the small window above her sink, ensuring no one was watching in—a part of him that he forcefully tamped down in favor of reveling in the sight of his stitched family. 

"You know I feed her," he drawled, leaning against the threshold of the entrance, "I don't know why she acts like this when we come over." 

It was the way (Y/N)'s features seemingly bloomed when she looked up at him. Her hand absently continued petting Rosemary, but it was clear all of her attention was splashed upon him. It was when her eyes were on him with nothing but adoration that had Harry happily anchored to the moment, warm and comfortable in his skin. He hoped he was able to make her feel that way when he looked at her. 

"Hey, H," she smiled, giving one last stroke to Rosie before she was standing to her feet and crossing the kitchen towards him, "I was going to ask you how work was, but you're on vacation." 

"I am, aren't I?" he mused, collecting her into his arms.

(Y/N) looped her arms around his neck while he hugged her around her middle, face cradled into the crook of her neck. His eyes fell closed reflexively, his chest expanding as he pulled in a deep breath. The sugary scent of her skin filled his lungs, her hair tickling his nose. 

"Are you excited?" she asked, trailing her fingers up and into his hair as she drew away. 

Matching her eyes, her question drifted away in favor of tipping forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. A giggled out his name against his mouth, muttering something about answering her, though Harry didn't pay it any mind. He focused on the give of her lips under his, the seam parting when she eventually melted into him. Her hands in his hair was a warming tether, keeping him from drifting out of her pastel kitchen. 

It was her that pulled away first, cutting off his indulgences earlier than he liked. He attempted to chase after her, craning his neck with puckered lips, though that only granted him a peal of her laughter fluttering between them. 

"Not in front of Rosie, H," she teased, unwrapping from his arms to move towards the stove where a warm oven and bubbling pan had gone unnoticed before. 

Harry stood back, watching as she stirred and tasted and adjusted, clicking on the light in her oven to take a peek inside. No matter how many times he'd offered to make dinner, take care of her meals—told her that he liked cooking, even—she had insisted that she wanted to take care of him, take one worry off of his plate. When she put it that way, he didn't feel like fighting with her. 

"She's seen worse, peach," he countered, leaning over the peninsula counter with his forearms flat on the surface. He had a perfect view into the domestic dream that was his (Y/N), complete with a bow in her hair despite the mess of a bun on the top of her head. 

A small laugh fell from her lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, "Maybe, but we shouldn't encourage it. Dinner's almost ready anyway, so we don't need to be distracted." 

"Yeah? What'd y'make?" He could see just the edges of something creamy in the pot she was stirring.

"Sabrina's family is visiting, and her dad gave me this recipe for stuffed shells with all this cheese and, like, spinach and stuff. I thought we'd try it out." She gave him a beaming smile when she finished whatever she was stirring, taking it off of the burner with the timer on the oven ticking down to less than two minutes. 

"That sounds really nice, love. Thank you. I've got dishes tonight." 

"Harry." A small scold—as expected.

"(Y/N)," he responded in the same arguing tone as she, "You're letting me—and my cat—stay here all weekend, 'm not letting us leave a mess here for you too. 'S alright." 

This was one of those things he didn't allow much room for argument on. It was one of those things—fear of feeling like a burden—that had come with the years on the run while attempting to ensure his impact was never felt. He was working on it, sure, but the least he could do for all of (Y/N)'s kindness was taking care of the dishes. 

"Okay," she relented, eyes rounding out as she looked up at him, "Just not tonight, though. I have something special for you after dinner." 

He did recall her saying something about making this weekend a thing for him, he just didn't really know what exactly that meant. "And, what's that?" 

A sheepish look crossed her face, softening her features and lining her eyes. "It's kind of silly, but I got some fun bath things and, like, candles and stuff. I wanted to make everything a little special tonight since it's your first extra, real day off in a long time." 

The longer she went on explaining herself, Harry could feel his own lips curling into a small smile. "Really?" he asked when she finally took a breath. 

"Yeah," she started, dropping her eyes from his, "But, you don't have to use them or anything if you don't want to. I know it might not really be your thing, and all." 

"Love," he crooned, the petname falling from his lips just for her to hear, "Thank you. That sounds really nice actually—don't remember the last time I took a bath like that. 'M always too worried about the water running cold." 

(Y/N)'s expression brightened at his words. "I'm excited for you to see all the stuff I got for you, then. But only after dinner—and dessert."

"Dessert?" 

"Of course dessert," (Y/N) smiled, moving back to the oven on the brink of beeping, "But that's a surprise." 

It was the way she looked at him before she gave her attention to the oven and baking pasta, how bubbly she seemed over something as simple as a surprise sweet for him to have at the end of the meal. That was what had him all but melting into the countertop. She could have fed him garbage and left him to soak in an ice bath and he'd be just as happy—all he needed was for her to keep looking at him like that. 

—————

"Are y'sure y'don't want me to do the dishes tonight?" 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling out of Harry's embrace to head towards the kitchen and the plates waiting by the sink. "Yes, I'm sure, H. I want you to relax this weekend, I don't mind doing a couple of plates." 

"But—" 

"No," (Y/N) cut him off, plugging the sink before beginning to fill the basin with soapy water, "As soon as I get this ready, we're going to my bathroom and I'm showing you all the stuff I got for you, and then you're going to not think about the kitchen again for the rest of the night." 

"I'm not?" he asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at her insistence. Sometimes it was fun to argue with her for no other reason than he liked to see her put her foot down with a smoke to her gaze. 

He thought it was cute.

"Nope. Not even for a second." Amusement covered her own features by the time she cut the tap and turned to face him. "C'mon." 

With that, she flitted out of the kitchen with socked feet padding over the flooring. She didn't have to look back to know Harry was following. 

Tailing her through the house with his gaze carefully landing on the round of her hips as they swayed with her steps, she took him to her bathroom. There, on the counter, was a brown paper bag with a white painted logo on the front. A gifting ribbon had the handles tied together on top,  a tag with his name dangling from the tendril. 

In presentation, (Y/N) stood off to the side of the counter, a beaming smile on her face as she flourished her hands out. "Happy free weekend." 

"What's this, hm?" he hummed, stepping over the tile with his gaze narrowed teasingly in her direction. 

"Your bath stuff," she said, practically bouncing in her spot as he began reluctantly untying the bow. He wanted to keep it perfect—he couldn't remember the last time he received a gift, especially one like this. 

Harry could feel his eyes on her as he began digging through the bag. Floating on top were two powdery spheres, striped in alternating colors with dried flowers stamped inside. He settled them gently on the counter, his hands coming away with remnants of the sweet smelling dust. 

"They're bath bombs," (Y/N) piped up, "They're those things that dissolve in the water and make it colorful with all these nice skin things in them. The purple one is lavender and sage, and the blue one is lotus and jasmine."

Smiling at her explanation, he reached back inside the bag. A glass bottle filled with sweet smelling oil was his next find, the wax seal corking it closed having dripped its way down to the label. He could smell the warm, floral notes from here, even with the contents sealed away. Looking at the simple label wrapped around the thick of the bottle, he looked up at her with raised brows. 

"Massage oil?" 

It was the way she hesitated that had his lips stretching into a smile. "Its—I—It doesn't have to be used for that. It can just be a nice body oil if you want, but I... I mean if you want a massage, I could use that, so." 

So far, this was his favorite gift from her reaction alone. He settled it with a clink next to the bath bombs. "I'll keep that in mind." 

Next in line was a candle, standing tall in a cold glass voice in the bag. Pulling it out, the four wicks were sealed away with the help of the suctioned lid, showing off the marbling of the wax tucked inside. It was a swirling jade color, complete with lapping white streaks to emulate the gemstone. Under the just right light, he could see bursts of glitter suspended inside. The label boasted a vanilla sage scent, surely meant to match the sage bath bomb he'd picked up earlier. 

"Peach," he smiled, looking at his gifts spread out on the counter for him, "These are so nice, than—" 

"There's more," she bubbled, unable to contain herself this time, "At the bottom." 

He raised a brow but dug inside like she suggested. At the bottom, his fingertips brushed something smooth and flat. Getting his fingers around it, Harry already had a good idea of what he was pulling out, a smile spreading over his features and denting his cheeks with dimples. 

It was a book—one of his favorites from the library. One he had loved enough that he wished he had his own copy to keep him company—something he had told (Y/N). The cover was the black and white with splashes of red, the artwork glossier than what he had borrowed from the library. The spine was uncracked, kept in pristine condition—just the way he liked it.

"I know you've already read it, but I thought you might want to read a little again while you take your bath," (Y/N) mused at his side, her hands in a fumbling bundle before her. 

"(Y/N)," Harry sighed, looking up from his new, personal edition, "This is all wonderful, really. Thank you, so much." 

With his book still in hand, he collected her in his arms, tucking her against his chest. While he wasn't one hundred percent sure what all of the things he had received were, it was more than warming to think about her perusing a shop with him in mind, plucking things up with the intention of sharing them only with him. 

"I know it's all kind of silly, but I'm happy you like it," she murmured into his shoulder, the curl of her smile felt against the cuff. 

"'S not silly," he told her, drawing back just enough to get a look in her eyes, "I can't remember the last time anyone has done anything like this for me. I really like all of it, (Y/N). Thank you." 

Tipping his chin, he pressed his lips to hers, hoping she felt his words as much as she heard them. He felt eased when her lips molded into a soft smile. 

"I'm happy I could change that," she cemented, beginning to untangle himself from his hold, "I'll leave you to it, then. Take as long as you want, I'm just going to clean up and we'll go to bed—" 

"You're not staying with me?" 

How was he supposed to enjoy all of these trinkets and things without her there? What was the point of a sage candle and glittery bath bomb if she wasn't going to be indulging with him? 

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, one foot out of the bathroom. "Oh—um, no? I was going to go clean the kitchen and things, remember?" 

"Yeah, but," he started, watching to reach out and keep her on the tiled floor with him, "can y'do that later?" 

"Do you want me to?" was her simple response. 

Harry nodded. "Yeah." 

Her features were warm, taking a step back into the bathroom with him. "Then, I'll do it later." 

It didn't take long for their clothing to be shed, lying in a lumpy file on the floor with the tub filled to the brim with steaming water. Harry had chosen the lavender bomb to be placed in the water, (Y/N) all too excited to show him the magic of the fizzy powder. She had urged him to sink in first, her gaze following the lines of his body before she had gone after him. 

Harry wrapped his arms around her as she sunk into him, his chest to her back. The steaming water rippled around them, scenting the air with crisp lavender and warming sage. Every deep breath he took had the bunching in his muscles lessening and lessening until he was lax with (Y/N) in his hold. He could feel her every breath, the expanding of her chest that pressed back into him, the brush of her hair drifting through the surface of the water and tickling his skin, the careful way she had her hands laying atop his own where they were threaded over the soft of her stomach. It was easy for his eyes to shutter closed with his head tipping back against the rim of the tub. 

It was almost enough to keep him from acknowledging the curve of her body pressed against his cock.

Now wasn't the time though, he starkly reminded himself, taking in a deep breath of the calming lavender. She had wanted to relax with him, not get felt up with a dick pressing against her ass. 

"Do you like it?" 

The sound of (Y/N)'s crooned words had him blinking his eyes open. He wasn't even hard yet, how could she know that he was already talking himself down? 

"What?"

"The bath bomb," she laughed, oblivious, "You said you've never used one before, right?" 

"Oh," he sounded, exhaling finally, "Yeah. 'S nice—it smells really nice. I could fall asleep in here.”

Twisting in his arms, (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile over her shoulder. "I have before—I don't recommend." 

"Yeah?" he smiled, much more willing to focus on this anecdote than on the way the shifting of her body hit points on him he would have rather ignored for the time being. 

"Oh yeah," she cemented, shaking her head, "I only woke up when I felt water going up my nose 'cause I started slipping." 

Though she laughed off the remark, a frown settled on Harry's lips. "Y'almost drowned? (Y/N)..."

Her name came out as a scold, one that had her letting out another peal of laughter. "No, I didn't drown, H—" 

"You almost did," he pointed out. 

There were parts of him, traits that he gained during his years protecting his mother and sister, that were now woven into the fabric of his personality. Hearing (Y/N)'s story had that protective gene flaring up in him, urging him to hold her tighter, keep her at his side. He wouldn't let his mind wander to another version of events where she hadn't spasmed awake when the warm water touched her nose. 

His limbs became a warming cradle around her form, caging her to him lest the bathtub somehow raise tsunami waves and try to pull them apart. He pressed his lips to the back of her shoulder, speaking against the skin, "I don't like that." 

(Y/N) wiggled her hands underneath his, turning her palms up to match his own with her fingers threading between. "It's just a funny story, H. I'm fine—you know I don't take baths, like, ever, anyway." 

His brows pinched into a furrow. Sure, maybe he did know that. "Still," he grumbled.

Harry's petulance only served to draw another breath of laughter from her chest. 

She wriggled in his hold some, melting into him as she slid deeper into the water. The milky shaded water ripped around her, Harry keeping her close as she settled with her head resting against his shoulder. 

"I'm fine, Harry," she cemented, peeking up at him with an adoring smile on her features, "But, you're cute for worrying." 

Taking in a deep breath, he did nothing more than dropping another kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. He wasn't trying to be cute—he was protective. It was a part of his nature. 

Shuttering his eyes, Harry indulged himself and allowed his kissing to continue down her shoulder, only stopping when the lapping line of the water halted him. With his fingers laced between hers, he pulled her arm out of the pastel bath. He dotted his lips down the line of her limb, nose skimming her skin in his wake and raising goosebumps. A plume of laughter left his peach, the sound enough to have his own smile taking place as he fought to smear his lips over her skin. 

It wasn't until he was headed towards her wrist, landing on the soft underside of her arm that he slowed when he, through cracked eyes, spotted a slash that had made a home in her skin. It was small, though it looked only partially healed—still a warm red and slightly raised.

"What happened here?" he murmured, a pinch furrowing his brow. 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed dazedly, shuffling in his hold before spotting what had made him stop in the first place, "Oh, Rosie scratched me by accident." 

It was something so minor, completely mundane and curable. The scratch wouldn't even scar, and yet Harry still felt his shoulders deflate. He would have to remind Rosemary to be gentle with her mother—she was entirely too special, no need to have claws out when being held by her. 

He apologized for his cat with a small press of his lips to the cut. 

Under the cover of the pastel water, (Y/N) untangled her hand from his that was still laid against her stomach. He was left to feel the give of her plush skin under the pads of his fingertips while she carded her own through his hair. Though he attempted to continue the dotted affection of his kiss over her skin, he didn't stand much of a chance as he reveled under her touch. 

Maybe it was the brush of her nails against his scalp, or the slight give of her body under his hand, or just the fact that he could feel every line of her body against his own, but Harry felt his stomach tense then. It was minute and fleeting, but something he felt under the blocking muscles of his abdomen. 

He attempted to keep a lid on whatever that feeling could lead to by taking a deep breath, but that only reminded him of (Y/N)'s skin right under his nose and the fact that she had been the one to run him this bath and that was why she was naked, and warm, and wet, and pressed right against him, and that was why his hands were on her and—

"H?" 

Blinking his eyes open and drawing away from her, Harry looked up to match her wide eyes. "Hm?" 

There was something teasing on her expression, lighthearted in her eyes with a small tug edging on the corner of her mouth. "Are you okay? You weren't breathing for a second." 

"Oh," he sounded, mouth dry, "Sorry." 

She shook her head, murmuring something about him being funny or cute or something, but, admittedly, Harry didn't have an ear to lend at that moment as (Y/N) started moving around him. Wriggling out of his hold, Harry stayed still in the water as she maneuvered around until she deposited herself in his lap. Her thighs were spread to cushion his hips, her bottom settled on the thick of his thighs while her chest was flush against his. Only trickles of the lavender water were able to make their way between her breasts and the curves of her body, leaving her shimmering with the scented oil on her skin and suddenly warmer than the steaming water. 

Looking up at her, Harry took his time tracing the lines of her piled hair with the wet ends sticking to her skin, warm cheeks glowy and dewy, the soft light reflecting in her eyes from the candle she had lit and stationed behind their cuddled bodies. He felt breathless—reverent. 

It was never far from his mind just how deeply (Y/N) had impacted him. Without her, he never would have been knocked out of the daze that was his life—the cycle of never-ending loneliness and purposeless decisions. She had changed him in ways he was scared of, the ways that he had avoided for years because it was easier to stay the same. He didn't enjoy thinking of who he would be without her, where he would be. 

It was with that knowledge and the sight before him, that Harry wanted nothing more than to worship her and show her the purple that he had been given now that she was in his life. Religion wasn't anything that ever consoled him during his years on the run, but if the temples and altars had looked like her, the gods held her kind eyes and warming touch, he may have reconsidered. 

"You can touch me, you know." 

Dropping back to earth with a flutter of his eyes, he realized his hands were lax at his sides, careful to keep a distance from her skin. She had been the one to tie her arms around his neck, to keep their bodies close, while he had basked in the sight of her alone. 

"Sorry," he murmured, placing his palms on the full curve of her thighs. 

He skated them over her form, taking in the rounded edges of her body and warm skin. He'd touched her before, enough times to have mapped out every crook and groove, and yet, it still felt like the first time when he allowed him to feel. It would never get old knowing that he had someone like her that loved him enough to allow his hands to land on her. 

"Don't be sorry," she murmured, ducking her head until she planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I just don't want you to feel like you can't touch me—I'm yours, H, remember?" 

There was that stirring again in his stomach, that tensing in his muscles that felt much deeper and lower than he would have liked during a relaxing cuddle with his girlfriend. It was just the reminder, that declaration that got to him just like it always did. 

(It was a bit embarrassing, in Harry's opinion. Would it always be this easy to work him up? Would (Y/N) always be able to say a handful of words, let his hands wander to her hips, and then he would be done for?) 

"You're mine," he sighed, sinking deeper into the water. 

It was (Y/N)'s turn then to trail her lips over his skin, the pillows of her lips never fully lifting from his skin before she was planting another kiss. She went on with the tip of her nose smushing against the line of his jaw as she worked down to the column of his throat. He could feel himself growing harder and harder with every kiss, every brush of his hands over her body, until he was sure (Y/N) was well aware as well. Though she made it abundantly clear she didn't mind when she rocked her hips against his, his cock pressed against his stomach and the soft core between her thighs. 

A shuddering exhale caved his chest. 

"I'm yours," she crooned, the heat of her words fanning over his heated skin.

Her own arms wrapped around his neck began to drift, leaving only one tangled in the waves of his hair with the blunt of her nails tracing his scalp. Her touch skated down the length of his chest, her eyes settling into a daze as they followed the journey of her hand until it disappeared under the water. His abdomen jumped under her hand the lower she went until the heel of her palm grazed the plumped head of his cock.

He couldn't help the way he tossed his head back, leaning into the palm of her hand. His voice came out in a breath, "I want you so bad, peach, I'm so sorry." 

(Y/N) drew away just enough to match his eyes, her wandering hand settling against the middle of his chest. "Why are you sorry?" she asked with amusement in her eyes, a soft smile on her lips as she shook her head, "You don't have to be sorry." 

"Jus'" he started, focusing on the sight of her as opposed to the weight of her form and warmth of her skin against him, "I don't... Don't want to ruin tonight since you're already doing so much, and you're only trying to relax and 'm reacting like this and—" 

She cut him off with her lips pressing against his, the edges of her mouth unable to fall in line with her kiss as she fought back a smile. "Do you think I don't want you, too, right now? If I didn't, I wouldn't be climbing all over you, H—or trying to get you to take me back to my room." 

Shifting on his lap once more, (Y/N) emphasized her point with a small roll of her hips against him, her warmth grazing over his length. 

His hands on her waist tensed, denting into her flesh with stern fingertips. Was she asking for what he hoped—what he'd been wanting but was too fearful to ask for in worry of pushing her?

His mouth felt dry as he took in her features, watching as something heated lingered in her irises. "A-Are y'sure?" he mumbled, unwilling to misread the conversation. (Y/N) loved taking care of him, he never wanted her to think he was intending to take advantage of that. 

Carding her fingers through his hair, the tip of her tongue peeked out from between her lips to run along the seam. "I've really missed you, H. It's not always enough just to call you before I fall asleep, you know. It's not the same as actually having you." 

A spark pinged in his chest at her words, the memories they dredged up. A couple of times over the last week with his busy schedule, they'd spent some extra time on the phone before (Y/N) fell asleep for the night and Harry worked through an especially long shift. He knew exactly what she meant: now that he knew what it was like to be touched by her, his own hand, his own fantasies paled so starkly in comparison it was almost embarrassing. 

"I can take care of you, peach. 'M sorry I haven't been doing m'job, but I'll make it up to you," he crooned, tipping his head in hopes of pulling her in for a kiss, "Y'want m'mouth or m'fingers, love?" 

It was only when she shook her head that he paused. That hand trapped between their bodies made a deliberate graze down his body until she skated her fingertips over his length, the ruddy head twitching over her touch. "I want you," she corrected, "Don't you want to fuck me?" 

Maybe it was the fact she rarely cursed, or just how intensely she was meeting his eyes, or the feel of her grabbing his cock, but Harry could have blown it all right then. His throat felt thick as he attempted to swallow down the moan building in his chest. His eyes were hooded, a vignette forming around his view of her. 

It would be so easy to sink inside her, split open her walls and make a home between them. All he needed was to shift his hips just right, and then he would be taking advantage of her spread legs and the slick around them. But, his worry of disappointing her—leaving her unsatisfied—held him back. 

His mouth felt dry by the time he found his voice. "I—um—(Y/N)," he started, unsure of how exactly to divulge the information in him, "'S been a while since I've—..." 

He wasn't sure what he was expecting her reaction to be, but he gladly took the small kiss she offered him, sealing his lips to hers. "How long?" 

"Since before everything," he sighed, allowing himself to sink into her kiss and the brush of her mouth against his, "I don't want to... leave y'unsatisfied if 'm not... good." 

That had her lips curling against his, a cluster of small kisses being pressed to the full of his lips before she pulled away. "It's going to be good before it's you, H. I'm not worried—I love you, remember?" 

Was it normal for him to feel his cock pulse at her declaration? Or was he really that easy? 

"I love you, too," he slurred before taking her mouth against his once more. It was messy and heavy, clumsy and unsure, but he didn't care. "I want to fuck you so bad, peach. Can I?" 

All it took was a soft nod of her head before he had his arms lacing underneath the thick of her thighs with the water splashing around the tub. He held her tight, grip stern as he stood tall in the pastel water. (Y/N) let out a bubbling laugh, clinging to him with a gasp as if he would ever drop her. 

With her pressed tightly to his chest, his cock was now fit snugly between the planes of his abdomen and the soft folds between her legs. Water sluiced down his form, a chill befalling his skin now that they'd left the steaming pool behind, though that had no effect on just how hard he was for his peach. 

"We didn't have to right away," (Y/N) laughed, fingers denting the broad of his shoulders, "If you weren't done—" 

"'M done," he cemented, dropping her onto the bounce of her mattress with only a small amount of guilt at getting so much water on her sheets. He'd change them for her later. "You're m'favorite way to relax, peach—don't need all the rest." 

Laid on the center of her bed with her skin gleaming and warm, scented so sweetly from their bath, Harry had a new level of respect for his self-control. But, that was in the past now, left in the bathroom along with the droplets of water on the floor and the candle he would have to remember to blow out before they fell asleep. 

Crawling on the mattress with his cock heavy between his legs, he fit his body between her spread legs, reveling in the plush of her thighs on either side of his hips. (Y/N) reached for him on instinct, looping her arms around his neck with the curls on the back of his neck dampening against her skin. 

"Hi, you," she murmured, a bubbly smile on her lips as if she hadn't just asked him to fuck her a moment ago. 

He could only shake his head, dropping a kiss to the bridge of her nose as he situated himself above him with his forearms stationed on either side of her head. "Hi, peach. What are you up to, hm?" 

"Nothing much," she laughed, hitching a thigh over his lip in a languid move to thrust him forwards. "You?" 

Harry's voice was stilted in his throat, feeling her slick folds give around his cock when his length split through. He could feel the minute pulsing of her clit against his base. "Jus' worried 'm not gonna last very long at all, nothing important," he attempted to joke, if only to feel of plume of her laughter fill the air. 

Instead, he garnered a smearing of (Y/N)'s lips against his own, her affection tender and lingering. "Don't worry about that," she urged him, "I don't care—I just want you to feel good." 

A furrow pinched his brow, his heart rattling when she rocked her hips underneath him as if it wasn't already hard enough to concentrate. "But, I want y'to feel good too, and—" 

"I will as long as you do," she reiterated, amusement sparking in her blown pupils, "I don't care if you finish early, just finish in me, that's all I ask." 

Harry couldn't contain the moan in his throat, the rumbling falling from his throat as he rested his forehead against hers with shuttered eyes. He could feel a bead of warm precum blurting from his tip, dripping to land on the soft of (Y/N)'s stomach with a pulse. 

"You're going to kill me," he murmured, not sure if he was speaking for her to hear, "D-Do y'need me to do anything f—" 

Cutting him off with a kiss, (Y/N) slipped her tongue between his lips only to offer a quick taste before she was pulling away once more. "You can feel how wet I am, right?" 

As if he could forget with the way she was pressed against the underside of his cock, the ridge of his head tight between their stomachs. He answered with a small nod. 

"Y-You're sure, then?" he murmured, attempting to tap into that self control he had back in the tub. 

"I want you, H," she assured, nothing teasing or urgent in her voice, only sincerity, "As long as you're ready, I am, too. It's just me—you don't have to worry." 

His only response came in the form of a small kiss and a declaration: "I love you, (Y/N)." 

"I love you too," she smiled into his kiss, a small roll of her hips turning his brain to mush. 

His breathing was strained as he reached between their bodies, his fist wrapping around his shaft. Looking down, he watched as she spread her thighs that much wider as he swiped his cock between her folds. She was sticky and wet, clinging to the width of him as he split her open enough for his head to kiss her clit. He could see the jump of her muscles, the small whine that chirped from her lips, but he couldn't seem to stop himself—especially when a thread of her slick stuck to him, only bowing and breaking when he reached his cock towards his stomach, too far for the string to extend. 

"Harry, please," she quietly pleaded with him.

The sound of her voice was just enough to knock him back into the universe. It was enough to remind him that this wasn't the main event, there was even more warmth and wetness to be explored. 

Pressing the tip of his cock to her opening, he held himself steady as he pressed his hips forward. It was a tight squeeze, a feeling that took his breath away. As much as he wanted to catch (Y/N)'s expressions, see exactly what she looked like as he sunk inside her for the first time, he couldn't seem to peel his eyes away from the sight of his cock fitting inside her core. With every stretch of his length pushing through, less and less coherent thought filtered through his head. 

Instead, all he could think about was the snug fit of her walls around him, the pulsing with every heartbeat, just how wet she was, the warmth that enveloped him and welcomed him deeper and deeper. By the time he bottomed out, his mouth had fallen into a gape and his arm propping him up was now shaky. His only anchor was the grip he moved to have on her hip, his palm slick and sticky from fisting his cock though he didn't have it in him to care. 

He really, really hoped (Y/N) meant it when she said she wouldn't mind if he blew it fast; he doubted he had much longer left, and he'd only just sunk inside. 

"Y'alright, peach?" he breathed, his words fanning across her skin when he finally looked up to reach her eyes. 

Looking at him with hooded eyes, the pupils wide, (Y/N) gave him her confirmation in the form of a jerky nod. "I'm okay," she mumbled, "Are you?" 

"'M good," he said, feeling drunk despite not a single drop of alcohol even being present in (Y/N)'s home, "'M so good, peach. 'M scared 'm too good." 

"It's okay," she smiled at him, if only a bit dazed when she threaded her fingers through his damp curls, "Just do whatever makes you feel good—that's enough for me." 

He wished he could have told her how much her affection meant to him, how he couldn't believe she loved him the way she did, how there was no one who had such an effect on him, but there was no way his tongue was going to follow any kind of command let alone any train of thought to actually form. Instead, he settled for a searing kiss against her already swollen lips. 

Though he doubted he would have any chance at composure, he still attempted to catch his breath and his brain before he reared his hips back for the first time. Pulling out of her warm channel was enough to add some form of clarity to his mind, though it didn't last long before he pushed forward in a shallow thrust. Her walls welcomed him in once more, warm and snug with every ridge forming around him in a pulse. (Y/N)'s thighs tensed around his hips, a slight tremor to her muscles though she managed to let out a sigh of pleasure against his kiss. 

"Fuck, peach," he murmured when he bottomed out once more, the crown of his length tapping her furthest walls. 

A furrow had his brows pinched though his eyes remained closed, even when he couldn't manage to kiss her anymore, his lips simply resting against her own parted ones. He shared panted breaths with her, his forehead resting on her own with (Y/N)'s fingers curling in his hair. 

Though the pace was slow, he was able to curate a rhythm that kept him from finishing right away. He didn't feel too far from the edge, but this was as good of a chance as he was going to get when she felt as good as she did. 

"H-Harry," she whined, her voice breathy and airy, "You're so big." 

His hips stuttered at her words, the previously shallow thrust he was working on turning into a harsh grind against her core. The jolt had another moan rumbling her chest with a curse falling from Harry's lips. 

"Y'can't say that, peach," he murmured, unable to keep his pacing, "You're gonna make me cum and we've barely started." 

Every stroke was indulgent, lingering when he wanted, harsh and deep when he changed his mind, anything and everything to his taste. His only chance was in moving his hand from her hip and shaky positioning it between his punishing hips and her forgiving core. At the apex of her folds, her clit pearled. Though his hand was shaky, he still managed to smear the pad of his thumb against the bud, feeling the budding pulse that matched the hammering of her heart. 

Suddenly coming to light, (Y/N) managed to bring him in for a kiss. It was sloppy and clumsy, leaving their lips swollen and teeth glancing off one another, but there wasn't any room for perfection. 

Harry needed her, that was all he knew. His stomach tightened with every thrust, his balls shining with her slick with every slap against her ass. (Y/N)'s thighs were warm and tight on either side of his pelvis, unwilling to let him venture too far before accepting him back inside. 

"(Y/N)," he panted, shaking his head, "P-Peach, 'm so sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, do—shit—don't be sorry, H. I want you to cum, okay? Cum in me, please." 

How was he supposed to deny her? What kind of boyfriend would he be if he said no to such pretty words?

Keeping his thumb running circles around her swollen clit, Harry couldn't stop himself before harshly thrusting inside her and pausing when he felt the first spasm wrack through his abdomen. There was a bunch to his muscles he hadn't even realized until the thread keeping them together snapped. 

Ropes of his cum spurted out, decorating and flooding her walls with every pulse. She grew impossibly wet around him, his thumb barely keeping track as he tried to tend to her clit even through the tremors. He ground his hips against hers, unwilling to draw away even an inch out of her warmth as he came.

The world slowly came back into focus as he pulled in puffs of air, (Y/N) delicately kissing his bottom lip. He felt so hot, sticky despite the bath he'd just soaked in. 

Was sex always like this? He couldn't recall ever coming this hard, but had it been too long for him to remember? Or was this another (Y/N)-only thing? He could readily believe that highs like this only came from being in her arms. 

"Still with me?" his peach murmured, a wanton edge to her voice that reminded him that there were much more important things than his own pleasure. 

He nodded, finally reciprocating her kiss. "'M here, peach. I've got you."

Despite the oversensitivity beginning to leak into his system, he managed to grind into her just enough to match the swirling of his thumb against her clit. She gasped into his mouth, allowing him to slip his tongue past her lips and sweep over her own. He got a taste of her pleasured moans, reveling in the feel until it seemingly became too much for her. 

In a way he was now familiar with, (Y/N) let out a chirping moan, delicate and shaky into his mouth. That was the first sign before her fingers in his hair began to tug at the roots in a stinging pull, and toes curled. Her pussy clung to the shape of his cock, his cum overflowing around himself and dripping down to the bed under her ass as she gushed around him. His oversensitivity had him crying out a call of her name, her pulsing walls almost too hot to handle as she came around him. 

He could have done this all night, Harry decided. He could have pet his fingers over her clit and pressed into her walls for hours if not for the fact that they were both beginning to see the less than favorable side of sensitivity. 

"'M gonna pull out, okay?" he panted, blinking his eyes open to find his (Y/N)'s still shuttered. She answered in a quiet nod, her lips parted as she breathed. 

Though it was a bit reluctant, he drew his hips back in a slow glide. His softening cock slipped out with a wet sound as (Y/N) unfurled her legs from around him. A small whine left her lips, but she didn't stop him, only clinging to him.

Settling in bed beside her, reaching for one of the pillows stationed at the head of the bed, Harry fixed it under their heads. (Y/N) instinctively rolled to face him, sharing the cushion with him. He gave her time as she came down, brushing his fingers through her hair and over the planes of her features until she managed to crack her eyes open. 

"Hi, you," he smiled, repeating her small tease from earlier. 

A plume of laughter fell from her lips, a slight smile forming on her kiss-swollen lips. "Hi. What are you up to?" 

"Nothing. Jus' looking at you." 

"Nothing important then, I see," she laughed, snuggling closer to him until Harry was collecting her into his arms with her head tucked into his neck.

"Very important, actually," he corrected, amusement draining from his tone, "Thank you, peach. Really." 

"You don't have to thank me, H," she countered, "I obviously got my own benefits out of this, so don't think I just did this for you." 

He knew she was trying to play with him, get him to loosen up, but he wasn't in the mood for that just yet. He was a touch too sentimental at the moment. 

"You know what I mean," he murmured, planting a kiss to the top of her head, "I jus' love you, and... always means a lot when y'trust me, and let me be with you. Thank you." 

"I love you, too, Harry," she reciprocated, her own arms giving him a pulsing hug, "It's easy to trust you, really. I wouldn't want to have these kinds of moments with anyone else—you're the best thing that ever happened to me, honey." 

Though he knew they needed to change her bedding, and blow out the candle in the bathroom, get (Y/N) cleaned up, and mop up the bathroom, Harry couldn't find any good reason to extract himself from her arms. 

There would never be a good enough reason that came above being with her like this. 

—————

ahhhhh! thank u sm for reading and to whoever requested this! sorry for any mistakes and if you have any fun ideas or requests of your own please send them in!! if you want to read more, you can check my patreon page:)

[mcflymemes]

GONE GIRL (2014) PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

what are you thinking? how are you feeling? what have we done to each other?

i felt i needed to shoot something.

we've never fucked in a bookstore.

you know i have to kiss you now.

sometimes i want to punch us in the face, we're so cute.

when you're upset, you bottle up.

brought you a present.

i need you. now. touch me.

that's very sweet of you and very unnecessary.

pour me a bourbon, would you?

it's a bad day.

i'm so crazy, stupid happy.

i met a boy. a great, gorgeous, sweet, cool-ass guy.

things could get ugly.

whose beer am i drinking?

i prefer men who are funny, not "funny."

i'm the guy to save you from all this awesomeness.

it's hard to believe you. i think it's your chin.

you are way too into that cat.

tell me how it ends.

i'm not someone who hits the panic button, but... it's weird, right?

you mind if we look around?

so what do you do now? for work.

perfect, time for a quick tour of my failings.

i love your parents, but they can be assholes.

people want to hear from you.

i thought that'd be embarrassing.

i am here on a strictly journalistic capacity.

[name], you are beyond amazing. you are incredibly smart but entirely unsnobby. you are kind, but never a martyr.

you surprise me. you challenge me.

isn't it time we fixed that?

we're going to take this very, very seriously.

i go there for the quiet.

we're still not sure what we're dealing with.

please don't take that tone with me.

everyone told us... and told us and told us... marriage is hard work.

technically we're supposed to fuck at the next stop.

books, sex, bourbon... life is good.

i knew you shouldn't have moved back here.

maybe i'll teach you a thing or two.

i'm a little drunk.

let's swear we will never be like them.

everything else is background noise.

why are you throwing that in my face again?

it's like you're daring me to be someone i don't want to be.

i'm not that person. i'm your wife.

suddenly i knew everything was about to get worse.

i'm asking you nicely.

everyone is projecting their shit onto me.

i feel like i could disappear.

i've been so worried about you.

i don't want to fight. i just want to be with you. that's all i want.

you fucking lied to my fucking face.

for valentine's day, i thought i'd buy a gun.

you have to fucking talk to me!

i'm not going to be scared anymore.

this man of mine may kill me.

men always use that as the defining compliment, don't they? she's a cool girl.

i will admit. for someone who likes to win, it's tempting to be the girl every guy wants.

we were happy pretending to be other people.

i need to show you something.

see we have the same taste in men.

you're reading it again? you know how it ends.

whatever the hell they found, we have to assume it's very bad.

everyone would hate me.

why are you so good to me?

my defense is the truth.

i've never seen it in my life.

i feel myself fading.

i just said what you wanted to hear.

take off your clothes.

i'm a fighter. i fought my way back to you.

kiss my cheek.

you're not at risk anymore.

you know you can sleep with me, right?

we should hold hands.

you called me a murderer.

i haven't touched you.

i've killed for you.

[ribread03]

Are We Still Friends? C.S.

AN: "took" [asked to use] this request from @6ix9inewiturmom but turned into a Chris fic because I feel like I have no Chris stuff so yeah. I tagged her version at the end so go read it after you do this one! Also this took me like months to write bc I had no motivation so yeah.

Content: use of y/n, smut, fluff, sub chris [kinda], unprotected [don't be silly wrap your willy], pet names, riding

Getting ready for bed in Chris's room because you decided that you wanted to spend the night with the triplets and Chris asked you to stay the night with him, which you had no problem with since you've had a crush on Chris for a little while now.

The TV is playing some cartoon in the background as you step of the bathroom in you sleep clothes. Plopping down on the bed next to Chris. He doesn't look up from his phone which is odd. You nudge Chris on the shoulder and he just groans. "Chris what's wrong with you tonight, I feel like we haven't talked at all." You've felt like this the whole day, he's been acting all shy and not talking which is not normal for him.

"Nothing y/n" He mumbles out. Not bothering to look up from his phone to answer you. You just roll your eyes and decide to just go on your phone.

About 20 minutes into your scrolling on tiktok you feel eyes on the back of your head. Sitting up from how you were laying on your side. Looking at Chris you meet his eyes, his face instantly turning a deep shade of pink.

"Chris?" You question. Sitting up more you turn to face him. Slightly giggling at the fact Chris was staring at you.

"y/n?" He questions back in the same tone as if he wasn't just staring right at you.

"I felt you looking at me Chris..." You say a slight blush coming over your face now. "Do you just really like the back of my head or.."

"I was just..." He trails off as he thinks. "I was just zoned out for a sec that's all, Sorry." He says softly. You know Chris is lying, he's a very bad lair and always plays with his hair more when he does.

"mhm, okay Chris." You tell him and scoot closer to him. "Your a bad lair you know." You whisper into his ear. You then go to roll back over when Chris speaks up again.

"Okay fine, I was staring at you..." Chris whispered.

You heard him but wanted to tease him a bit. Sitting up some more and turning to him. "What was that?"

"I was staring at you, okay?" He finally admits. Clearly flustered

Trying to hide your blush-your crush was looking at you because he wanted to- it wasn't working well. "That's what I thought" You spoke seductively and moving closer to him.

"I-" Chris starts but you cut him off before he can even start.

You place you hand on his arm, "its okay Chris I don't mind." You say with a slight giggle. "I stare at the back of your head sometimes to." You shamelessly admit to him.

"Really?" He ask, surprised that you stare at him to.

'Mhm' You hum back, now moving your hand up and down his arm.

"Oh" Hes still flushed from you catching him and is at a lost for words. "Well I guess I should tell you something then." He starts but trails off.

"Go on." You edge him on wanting to know what he wants to tell you.

"Well, what I want to tell you is that I've had a massive crush on you for a few years now..." He says avoiding eye contact with you, looking everywhere but you honstly.

"Oh" you hiccup out. "I should tell you that I like you to then." You say with a shrug of your shoulders acting as if its something everyone already knew.

"Huh?" Chris lets out a quiet squeak at the end of his word.

"Yup" You say with a straight face, turning a slight shade of pink now.

"I don't get it... You, y/n, like me?" He says pointing back and forth between you and him.

Shaking you head you lean in and kiss Chris. He's shocked at first but kisses you back as soon as he realizes what is happening. You pull back slightly "That help any?" You ask cheekily, a smirk painting you face.

"Yea" He whispers against your lips, going back in for another kiss. Chris' lips are soft on yours. His hands going to your waist pulling you onto his lap, never breaking the kiss. Your hands trail to the nape of his neck, lightly playing with the hair there.

"Chris?" You mumble into his lips.

Chis humming in response pulling away from you lips, now leaving sloppy wet kisses along your neck.

"I need you chris" You whisper tilting your head back so more of your neck is exposed.

"I need you to y/n" Chris pulls back from your neck and looks you in the eyes. "Are you sure you want this? like for real sure, once we do this there's no going back to before." Him asking if you are really sure turns you on even more.

"Yes Chris, I don't want things to go back." You say now kissing down his neck making sure to leave love bites. You slowly start to grind down on Chris, soft whimpers leaving his lips.

"Ke-keep doing that" Chris moans out.

"What do I get if I keep going?" You ask him, not wanting anything in return-your happy to be doing this- you still ask him just to tease a little. Chris answers with little whimpers and moans, you stop when words dont come out of his mouth. "I asked you a question pretty boy." You say bringing your hand up to his face, rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

"I- please y/n" Chris pleads griping your hips moving them himself, you grab his hands and take them off of your hips so he cant move them. "Anything, anything you want y/n" With his word you continue your movements, pressing down a little harder.

"Fuck" You moan out in-between kissing his neck. Your hands toy with the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. Your taking off your shirt almost immediately after his. You feel Chris' eyes on your exposed tits. "Like what you see?" You ask.

Chris shakes his head yes. You grab his hands you bring them up to your nipples, letting your head fall back when he plays with one. Your hands fall down to the waist band of his pants. "Can I?" Chris hums a response nodding his head slightly leaving wet kisses all over your chest.

Pulling his pants and boxers off his erection springs free. You let yourself stare for a minute. "Like what you see mama?" Chris uses your words against you. 'mhm' you hum back, letting your hands travel down to play with his tip.

Chris is now a whimpering mess under you, bucking his hips up when you start to move your hand up and down his shaft. Sliding your shorts and panties down you go back up to his face to kiss his lips, resting your burning heat right above where you both need it the most.

"I don't have a condom" Chris tells you in-between kisses.

"Its okay" You tell him. Aligning his tip with your entrance you slowly lower yourself onto him. Wincing at the stretch, biting your lip to detract yourself. Once you bottom out on him you sit there getting used to his size. Once your ready you start to move up and down on him.

"S-shit, so t-tight" Chris keeps praising you, as you bring both of you to your climaxes.

“Fuck- I’m close” you moan out as you continue to bounce up and down on him. His hands continue to play with your nipples, only making you move faster on him.

“Me to mama, please let me cum.” He’s begging you, his words push you right over the edge making you cum on his cock.

“Inside me” You pant out, still bouncing on him riding out your own high. Soon after Chris reaches his orgasm.

“Fuck” He breathes out, overwhelmed with the feelings going on in his head right now.

You slowly slide off of him, whimpering at the empty feeling. “That. Was. Amazing” Your still catching your breath as you complement Chris, falling to his side.

“You’re amazing” Chis shoots back at you, making you blush. “Blushing now are we” He lets out a slight chuckle.

“Are we still friends?” You asking this question throws Chris off guard, causing him so sit up on his elbows.

“I don’t think we can go back to just being friends after that” He says patting your hair down, laying a soft kiss on it.

“I don’t want to” You whisper softly, sitting up to face him. His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb rubbing your face.

“Good because me neither” He pulls you into a kiss, soft and slow, showing you that he means what he just said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: hey guys, I wrote the end of this like 3 months after I started it so if it kinda changes styles that’s probably why, but I’m going to link the Matt version right here! So go read Gabs, she did so good with it! OKAY BYE LOVE YOU!!

[childofthewolvess]

Familiar Spirits in Eclectic Paganism & Witchcraft

Hey, you! Have you ever wondered what familiars are, and if you have one? You've asked the right person—I've been working with animal spirits for as long as I can recall! I recently contracted two wolves that have been spirit guides following me my whole life to be permanent familiars. I've gotten quite a few questions on my experience in spirit work recently and wanted to talk about it.

Before I even start to give a brief background on what familiars are and how to know if you have one, a quick disclaimer:

Familiars are not your spirit animals! Or totems! They are a type of contracted spirit and/or spirit guides.

Spirit animals and/or totem animals are closed to Native American/indigenous practices. A familiar animal spirit or spirit guide is an entirely different concept. Don't get them mixed up! I'm tired of seeing appropriation in animal spirit work with people taking the term "spirit animal" and running. Native spirit animals are an entirely different concept that I, as a white person without an indigenous culture or background, do not have the authority to speak on nor practice.

So, what is a familiar spirit? Are they real animals, are they ghosts, or are they spirit guides?

The answer: a "familiar" can be all three, depending on who you ask! "Familiar" is a very broad term that you can find in many practices and various branches of witchcraft. Some folks have a physical animal companion/pet as their familiar, such as a cat or dog, that they called out for and/or received as a gift. Some people's familiars are the spirit of a past living animal companion/pet that accompanies them in the metaphysical. Some familiars, and this goes for my case, are contracted forms of spirit guides gifted by deities, ancestors, guardians, etc.

In my own definition, I would define a familiar spirit as a spirit bound to a practitioner in a contract. Most of the time, a familiar will take the shape of an animal. However, historically familiar spirits have also been mythical creatures, such as dragons, elves, or fae.

Let's keep in mind that spirits, especially spirit guides assigned to you, will appear to you in the form they choose, so, yes, it is entirely possible you've got a dragon spirit that's reaching out to you. It's also possible for your familiar spirit that was a cat to appear to you as a dog if it decides to change its shape. In my experience, I haven't encountered any mythical creatures, but your familiars are a unique experience to you!

Today, I'll be talking about familiar spirits in particular. I don't have experience on the end of physical familiars, so I'm going to speak about familiars that accompany us in the spiritual, metaphysical, or energetic realm.

What are familiar spirits good for, and why should I want a spirit following me around?

There's quite a few reasons folks work with familiars! For one, their energy is a lot more gentle, louder, and softer (in my experience) than a deity's energy. They are personal to you, are meant to work with you, and can act as a guide that is with you 24/7, whenever you call upon them. They are for you!

Here are a few different reasons I, or other witches, might work with a familiar:

A "alarm system" for spiritual attacks. If someone attempts to harm you or your energy, your familiar will likely be the first to know, and can alert you to it.

Aide and assistance in spells, magic, and divination.

A safe and trustworthy lucid dreaming or astral travel companion. If requested, familiar spirits will happily follow you into your dreams and walk with you when your body is at rest. This was huge for me as someone who suffers from PTSD and has frequent nightmares—after contracting my familiars, I found that going to sleep I felt protected and guarded when I was not awake.

Many familiars can provide wisdom or knowledge from an animal's unique perspective, and can help with advice specific to their species. For example, a cat might help you to understand how important rest and relaxation is, encouraging you to take it slow and let yourself bask in the warmth of the sun.

A comfortable spirit that you can feel and understand that it's there for you—it is with you, all the time, it understands every aspect of your life and soul, and may be a comfort entity. Mine certainly show up when I need to feel better or overwhelmed.

Clear communication from the spiritual realm—I've found that familiars are very quick and concise when communicating, making them excellent messengers for deities or ancestors. Sometimes mine deliver messages from my God Squad.

This is not an all-comprehensive list, and I have many of my own interpersonal reasons for working with familiar spirits. The point is: they can help in a ton of different ways as a safe and trustworthy spirit.

Well, that's cool! How do I know if there's a familiar spirit reaching out to me?

Everyone is going to have a different experience in this front. Here are some signs to look out for if you're feeling an animal or creature's presence and sensing a spirit around you that may be interested in becoming your familiar:

You are repeatedly dreaming about the same animal(s), or seeing them in the astral.

You are drawn or interested to a specific species of animal (a lot of times, look back at your childhood; that imaginary friend may have been a spirit guide!)

You repeatedly see signs of this animal surrounding you, such as repeated imagery of a crow, or people just can't stop mentioning bears around you and you can't figure out why.

Your deities or spirit team have communicated to you that they have sent you a spirit, or that there is one in your presence.

The spirit feels playful, wild, or behaves like an animal does in comparison to a spirit that might carry energies of a deity or any other supernatural spirits.

The spirit is not causing you harm or distress. If you are being caused distress by a spirit, it's absolutely not a familiar, as they are sent to aide you and become a companion, and you might need to Banish The Thing That's Causing You Stress because it's not a familiar spirit!

You vet the spirit and its communication may seem more primal or animalistic.

The spirit feels smaller (or larger) than a deity or other entity's presence, and more concise to its shape. I found that my familiars feel much more compact and true-to-side with their energies when they are around me compared to the ambiguity with my deities.

Once again, many of these are unique to my experience, and with this topic, you'll find that many people have so many different stories as to how they got their familiar. The important part is to vet your spirit, make sure that they are a creature trying to reach out, and find out who or what sent them to you. Trust me, you don't want an unwelcome spirit following you around. Always confirm with divination, with your God Squad or spiritual team, that this is an animal spirit reaching out to you.

Okay, that's awesome. I know and got confirmation that there's a familiar spirit reaching out! What are my next steps?

PAUSE! Before you contract or bind yourself to any spirit, you need to spend time with it and get used to it to make sure you for sure want this presence in your life consistently. Contracting/binding is non-reversible and permanent. It is a big decision, and you need to be super prepared and confident in making that decision.

You may choose to do a meditation to reach out to this spirit. Ask it what it looks like, its name, how it feels, etc., to get a full feel of its energy. You may do a tarot/oracle reading with the spirit. You may ask another witch to confirm that it is a familiar spirit and what messages it has for you. You may walk with your deities to meet the spirit. You may also choose to work with the spirit for a bit before fully contracting it to become a spirit if you are hesitant or new to spirit work.

I worked with mine as spirit guides for, well, 15+ years through the course of my life before I contracted them. It'll take patience, and it's a big decision to contract a spirit. Familiarize yourself (pun intended) with its energy, advice, knowledge, and how it interacts with your practice and through your daily life.

Is the spirit too overbearing or strong? Is it overwhelming? Is it an energy you wouldn't want surrounding you constantly? You may not want to contract a spirit of this manner. Tread carefully, and be aware of what you are binding yourself to. You can always peacefully depart with any familiar spirit who you choose not to work with if the "trial period" doesn't feel right—they won't take it personally, I promise! I've actually worked with quite a few animal spirits who were first spirit guides that had the potential to become a familiar, and did not end up contracting them as I found that they were simply not totally aligned with my life's overall path.

I've worked with the familiar spirit, gotten my confirmation, and know that this is a spirit I want to contract. How do I do that?

First of all, congratulations! That's a big deal. You've put in the work, and now you're ready for the next step. What's a contract and how do you do that?

Well, it's exactly what it sounds like. You can write or speak the contract when in contact with your familiar spirit and have their presence with you. Contracts are two-way, so you need to be able to allow the spirit to communicate their own boundaries and ensure they agree to the terms. Here are some things you may or may not want to include in your contract:

Your boundaries. How often do you want to feel your familiar's presence? How are you going to communicate if you need space from the spirit? What does that look like? Do you want the spirit to be able to walk into your dreams without permission?

The familiar's boundaries. Does this spirit want to be with you constantly, or do they need time for themselves where you may not be able to reach them all the time? How would they like to be addressed or treated?

The things you would like your familiar to help you with. Do you want them to assist you during spells with their energy? What about walk with you in your dreams?

How much the familiar wants you to talk about them. Some familiars are very quiet and like to keep their experience personal to their person, while others are perfectly fine with the witch talking about them. Mine are!

How you can give back to your spirit. This is a two-way contract, and even though your spirit is there for you, it's always kind to consider what the spirit may want as well. Would it like an altar or sacred space? Does it want you to talk about it? Perhaps it wants you to research and learn about its species to help preserve or safe its kindred souls!

What an alert from a familiar looks like. Coming from someone with a service dog, you should want to know what it looks like when your familiar is reaching out to you! If you want to be alerted of spiritual attacks, how should your familiar notify you of that?

Restrictions to the contract/binding. Maybe you don't want it to be entirely permanent—maybe you only would like to work with this spirit for a set amount of time, or vice versa.

Come up with your own rules! Write, revise, and write again. Edit your contract until it feels right between you and your familiar(s). When you are both ready, you can agree to the contract. With mine, I signed a physical letter that I wrote to my familiars, and let them channel through me to speak on their own behalf. How you do this is unique to you!

My familiar wolf spirits and our story.

Who the heck am I to speak, right? Figured I'd share a little bit of my experience with my familiars.

I've been working with my now-familiars for as long as I can remember, upwards of 15+ years. I first saw them when I was around 1st or 2nd grade, and I definitively remember seeing a black wolf curled up underneath my desk as a kid. I would walk with these spirits throughout my childhood in my dreams, or the space between awake and asleep. I would speak with them, see them when I closed my eyes, and when I was very young, saw them when my eyes were open as energies. Consistently, I was followed by a male black wolf and a female lighter gray wolf. They happily guided me through my childhood and sparked a great passion in me over wolves.

When I grew older and lost my ability to see these spirits right before my eyes, I decided that they were imaginary friends, as I'm sure most of us had when we were kids. I would talk to my friends, my parents, my brother, everyone I knew about these two wolves. Everyone thought it was adorable; me with my little imaginative mind, and imaginary friends.

When I was a teenager, I was reintroduced to these two wolves in a meditation to reach out to my spirit guides. The black wolf began to walk with me as a spirit guide and the lead of my spiritual team before I began deity worship and work. He would be my guiding light as I explored my craft and paganism. Later on, his white wolf mate would reappear to me in the same form. And then there were two!

I later learned after working with deities, especially with Loki, that the black wolf was a spirit companion sent by my ancestors. He (the black wolf) has walked alongside me for many lives. Once upon a time, he was alive, originally domesticated in ancient Scandinavia by his original person, one of my ancestors. His spirit followed my own through many cycles of death and rebirth after becoming domesticated. His mate, the white wolf, followed him into astral, and in this life, my deities allowed her to become one of my guides. I worked with these two wolves for a large amount of time as spirit guides before finally doing the research and deciding to contract them, as suggested by Loki.

I contracted my two familiars for life recently. My practice with them looks like feeling their presences, walking with them in my dreams (I like to call it "wolfwalking" lol), inviting their presence to my rituals, and pretty much incorporating them into every part of my practice. They are always with me, following me into my rest each and every night. I am constantly working with these two spirits and have dedicated myself and my work to them. They are, simply put, my companions for life!

In return, I have dedicated myself to spreading awareness of the wolf. I am a professional naturalist and author, and every day I speak about protecting the species and their life histories. I am writing my thesis over wolf reintroductions. They are the key to my passion and heart!

If you made it this far, thank you for reading! This is my experience and advice, so questions, comments, or additions are always welcome.

If you thought this was super useful and would like to give thanks for the 3 hours I spent writing and revising this post, I have a Ko-Fi for tips! I also do accept requests in my inbox for topics on familiars, including interpretation and communicating messages from your familiar spirits.

Thanks friends! <3

[nebbyy]

I have a request, if youre taking them.

Baldwin's wife sneaks into the battle in 1177 with sixteen year old Baldwin, his reaction and what not. make it your own, just thought this would be cool

King Baldwin x reader - My archangel

A/N: I absolutely LOVE this idea! I've never thought of a scenario like this before, so thank you so so much for the suggestion<3

Sorry if this took so long btw, I haven't been active lately because of school and work😔😔

As always, painting is "The Crown of Love" by John Everett Millais (it's so funny to me for no reason, it just makes me think of how Baldwin would be physically dragging you out of danger).

Summary: During the most importante battle of his life so far, the last person king Baldwin expected to see on the battlefield was his newlywed wife

Warning: war, but it's more of a background thing, mentions of injuries and a hint at misogynism

Word count: 5433

It had been decided. Jerusalem's knights and soldiers would be riding towards Saladin's army at dawn, led by their king, King Baldwin IV of Anjou. Your Baldwin.

The mere idea that tomorrow your husband would find himself fighting face to face against the most fearsome of his enemies terrified you, especially knowing that you could do nothing to protect him. He had expressly said he did not want you or his sisters anywhere near the battlefield, it was too risky. You should have waited for his return, for him to be victorious astride his steed, now lying lifeless on a black bed.

You closed your eyes, begging your mind to spare you from the projection of that macabre image in your head. But you could do nothing against these emotions, which were tearing at your mind and spirit. You could not remain still and impassive, obedient and elegant as you always were as a young princess, then as a wife and now as a queen.

No, that image of you had to slumber, if only for a while. You did not have your kingdom on your mind at that moment, only Baldwin and the overwhelming desire to be close to him.

You cursed your nature for making you a woman, for not having had the opportunity to learn the art of arms and war. You cursed your long robes that prevented you from any daring movement, and your limbs because even if they were able to move freely they would not have the strength to even wield a sword.

As Baldwin fell asleep in your arms, exhausted by the fatigue that this imminent battle was costing him, and you held him close to your heart as if to compel him eternally into your embrace, you weaved a plan in your mind. A plan not to leave him alone at dawn, to stay as close to him as possible.

Because even if it was the day God would claim your husband's soul, at least you wanted to be near him as he took his last breath.

How selfish you were, not even death would have been left for him. But then again, poets have been saying it for centuries, love is the gravest form of madness.

You woke up in an empty bed, the spectre of a kiss floating on your bare shoulder where Baldwin's lips had rested a few moments before, when he had to arouse himself to lead his army into battle. And despair pervaded you almost immediately, when when you woke up still no idea had come to your mind to stay by his side, after you had hoped that sleep would grant you a solution to your problem.

Unable to hold back tears of frustration and despair, you summoned your favourite handmaiden, your nurse, old to almost retirement but cunning as a mischievous child. You wept on her welcoming lap, clutching the fabric of her robe in your fists.

"Oh Agnes, how unfair is my fate as a woman. I am asked to stand by my husband's side all my life and yet I am denied a place beside him in these dark times. And they tear him from my arms and leave me here, alone and helpless, these monstrous Saracens!" She looked at you with sympathetic eyes, stroking the long hair that fell from your shoulders, which resembled the waves of the sea as they shook slightly from your sobs. "What can I do, Agnes? You who always have a quick tongue to give solutions to my every worry, tell me what I can do, before his horse and troops are too far away to be seen."

She, like a mother consoling a child who has injured himself while playing, took your face with one hand, inviting you to turn your gaze towards her. As she wiped the tears that streaked your cheeks with her thumb, she spoke softly to you, although her tone had a hint of her typical mischief in it: "My lady, weeping over your fate does not suit you. Instead, I propose you run. Make haste to the armoury, there you are sure to find armour left behind by some lord. Do you follow me? Well, you will simply have to put on the armour, carrying a pair of your husband's breeches underneath. And keep your helmet tightly closed, so that it cannot be seen that beneath the armour there is not a brutish knight, but a beautiful queen.

Go out of the palace through the servants' passages, and buy the horse of the first man you find. Not yours, in the royal stable they would notice his absence. And then all that remains is for you to ride, ride as fast as you can, to reach the Christian encampments as soon as possible, which by then will have been set up. Remain aloof, and reveal yourself to your husband only. And do so at night, in his tent, where no unwanted eyes can see your unexpected encounter. Is it all clear, my lady?"

You merely nodded frantically with eyes wide in wonder and relief. You practically leapt into the air, quick to grab the first slip you could find and a pair of cheap shoes that you could ruin with all your impending travels. You were about to leave the room, but stopped for a moment at the threshold, before turning back to Agnes to hold her tightly in a warm embrace.

"What would I do without you, my dear. You are even better than a guardian angel, I wouldn't be surprised if one day you left some white feathers behind!" The woman squeezed you affectionately before pushing you away playfully, urging you to get out and go and do whatever she directed. "It is the job of a nurse, to solve a child's problems in the same way as a mother. But hurry now or the battle will be over before you have even found a helmet!"

You laughed lightly as you wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, wasting no more time in rushing to get what was necessary to implement your plan. You rushed in front of the crate containing Baldwin's clothes, tossing robes and shirts in the air until you found breeches fit for a ride. You hastily donned them, then dashed down the long corridors of the palace.

Once in the armoury, you began to spin like a wheel, desperately searching with your eyes for any armour. You weren't picky, anything would have been more than enough: you'd have been fine with just a breastplate, chain mail, simple shoulder straps,… But most of all, you needed a helmet. And that you found almost immediately in your mad search. It was crudely moulded and already bore a few dents on the sides, but you paid no attention to it, it was enough to conceal your identity.

You also found a breastplate, and that was all you needed. You considered taking a sword with you too, but quickly changed your mind: it might be foolish to most, but you hoped that if an enemy found you unarmed, his honour would prevent him from challenging you to a fight.

And then, your focus on your sword quickly faded as you remembered that you still had no horse to reach the battlefield. Running awkwardly, like a child ambitiously trying on his father's far too large armour, you stepped back into the corridors, this time frantically searching with your eyes for a servant to follow towards the back exit.

It must have been a hilarious scene from an outside observer, a burly swineherd looking perplexed over his shoulder as a half-armed knight los eguiva like a tin puppet through the narrow corridors. But the scene was short-lived, for after a couple of turns you finally reached the palace exit, and emerged into the crowded streets of the city.

I had to move my helmet slightly above my eyes to better see the road around you, scanning the area for any horse. You could only see two camels, a few cows, a hen with her small flock of chicks, but no horse in sight. But just when you were about to give up hope, a mysterious force swept over you.

More than mysterious force, you were almost overwhelmed by a horse held on the bridle by a dirty, smelly man. "Out of the way, kid!" Looking at the man with wide eyes, taking good care to make sure your helmet covered your features well, you strained to speak in the most naturally deep voice you could muster, attempting to fool the yokel into mistaking you for a mere boy.

"Sir how much… how much are you asking for your horse?" He laughed, opening his mouth wide and exposing his few remaining teeth, yellow and frayed, and looked at you with a look of paucity and mockery, "You're going off to war without even a horse? The Saracens will impale you like a spit, son. Not that the battle would do you any good either way, with the child king we have, they will all be wiped out. before they even reach those bloody Arabs!”

You clenched your jaw so tightly that you thought your teeth might blow out from the pressure, so hard were you trying to suppress your anger at that disrespectful commoner. Breathing slowly, trying to calm your nerves, you spoke in stiff, icy words, "30 shillings. And you leave me the saddle" The man's eyes widened, incredulous at how much a young man was willing to pay for his old, shabby horse. But he wasn't complaining at all; in fact, better for him if the thirst for war drove the youth of today to such lengths. If only he had known that it was not the bloodlust of a daring young man that was before him, but instead the affectionate madness of a desperate wife.

He did not even answer, stretched out his open hand in front of him where a moment later a bag full of coins fell. He opened it for good measure, making sure the hefty sum was true. When he was satisfied, he slowly handed you the bridle, dazed by the small fortune he was holding.

You hoisted yourself awkwardly onto the horse, and it was not a quick operation as it seemed almost impossible for you not to fall off the horse, so much was the armor restricting your every move and weighing you down. After a few minutes of tribulation, you finally steadied yourself in the saddle and with a firm gesture of your leg, spurred the steed, which galloped off in an instant.

At a gallop, the city didn't seem nearly so big. Nor did the streets seem so crowded, perhaps because the people spread out like the sea in front of Moses as you passed, trying to escape the unpleasant fate of being swept away by the running horse and its mysterious rider. You felt as if you were sailing through the waves of the sea, with people's heads bobbing up and down, a current of movement pushing you closer and closer to the city gates. No one paid much attention to you as you crossed the threshold into the kingdom of heaven, most just thought you were a careless rider who had fallen behind, perhaps this was your first battle. Whatever your problem was, it was not about the wall guards. And so your figure disappeared from the sight of the remaining citizens in the city, vanishing into the vastness of the endless desert.

You did not know quite how long you rode, how many hours it took you before you began to locate even the slightest trace of the passage of the army of Jerusalem. At first it was only small details, marks left on the ground, mainly trinkets possibly dropped to the soldiers during the ride. Then the signs of their passage became more prominent, when around a small oasis you even found a few abandoned spears, probably forgotten back by some careless soldier.

And you stopped there for only a moment, as thirst would have prevented you from going any further. As you drank from the body of water, your mind travelled in thought to your husband; who knows if he too drank from this spring? And if so, how long has it been? Will he be far from here? What would he say when he saw you retracing the passage he and his troops were tracing? At that last thought a shiver ran down your spine, most likely he would not be very happy to know you were so close to danger. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of the image of the look that Baudouin would give you if he saw you at that moment, alone, barely armed in the vast and merciless desert, with no escort to protect you…

You only hoped that the surprise and joy of seeing you at such a tragic moment might cloud his mind from any concern he might have for you. In the meantime you had quenched your thirst enough. Regaining the reins of your horse, and after a series of ministrations to remount the saddle, you resumed your ride towards the battle with the unknown outcome.

As you rode with the wind blowing in your face, with nothing to entertain or distract you, your mind could not but return again to Baldwin. You could not help it, for fear for his fate had been tearing at your soul for days without respite, ever since it was announced that a battle would take place.

Baldwin was too young for all this. He was barely of marriageable age, he could barely reign without a regent at his side, he was hardly considered more than a child, many nobles even refused to call him an adult! And then there was his illness, which although not yet crippling, had already begun to expand its deadly effect on his body, numbing his nerves and making it impossible for him to wield his right hand properly. It was really unfair, that a man in his condition should lead an army to what everyone considered certain death.

Death at the hands of the Saracens, who were rumoured to be as many as ten times the number of the army of Jerusalem. A sob escaped from your mouth, followed by a faint stream of tears that ran down your cheeks, but they were short-lived on your face, the dry desert wind dried them in no time.

Only an instant seemed to pass, time to bring a hand to his face to wipe away the dried saline tears. Yet when your gaze focused again on the landscape in front, you saw a few hundred metres away a series of white tents, a few faint rows of smoke rising in the air, a massive cross set with precious gems, leaning against a rough wooden construction. It was the camp of the Jerusalem army.

Getting off your horse, you advanced hesitantly through the camp. Looking around, you noticed the stunned gazes of soldiers and horsemen watching you, some intrigued by your unkempt armor, some confused by your clumsy way of moving. But although the attention of their gazes made you stop breathing, fearing that you had been discovered, but fortunately it was short-lived, all the men were too tired from the exertions of the journey to investigate even this oddity. Taking you for an inexperienced little boy, they looked away from you and proceeded to drag their aching limbs back to their respective tents.

But although no one gave you more than the attention you give any stranger on the street, your heart would not stop beating furiously in its cage. You quivered at the mere thought of seeing your husband again, who although he had recently separated from you, already felt as if you had not seen him for an eternity. And your soul screamed at the idea that this might be the last time you would see him alive, and urged your legs to move faster. From hesitant strides, your gait grew brisk, impatient, and faster and faster until you burst into a frantic run through the expanse of white tents.

You scanned one, two, ten, a hundred, so many that by now they seemed to you an endless bundle of the same white cloth. But although your hope gave no sign of existing from your mission, your legs were beginning to give out under the constant strain you had subjected your body to for endless hours. You had no choice but to stop to catch your breath, resting your hands on your trembling thighs as you gasped for breath. And it was in that very instant, while you neither heard nor saw anything but the roar of your heart echoing in your ears and the rough ground flattened by the heavy footsteps of the soldiers, dark because of the blurred evening light, that you heard it. That voice.

"We will discuss this tomorrow, now I need the rest" "Certainly, my lord." The dialogue was followed by a knight of high lineage who came out of the tent in front of which you had pulled up to rest. He did not even dignify you with a glance, and you could not care less, for it was not him you were interested in. He was the first man to speak who had captured your complete attention, making the whole world fade away around you. It was a jovial voice, full of life despite obvious tiredness. It was a boy's voice. It was Baldwin's voice.

You sidled up to the curtain of the tent and, before opening your mouth, breathed slowly, tending not only to ease your nerves but also to modulate your voice to make it more masculine, deeper. The deception was to be revealed only when you were alone in the tent, away from prying eyes.

"My king, I know you are now bereft of strength, but grant me a brief interview with your majesty." You could visualize him rolling his eyes, puffing silently and running his good hand over his eyes, as he was always wont to do when any courtier demanded his attention while he was already lying in your arms. And as whenever this familiar event took place, similarly Baldwin made an effort in this case to stand up and mutter a reply, unaware that the subject behind the cloth was not just any boy, but his beloved wife. "I'm afraid I'm in no condition for a meeting at the moment. We will discuss whatever you need tomorrow." Panic grew in you hearing him so indisposed. After all, you should have expected it; he had more to think about than granting an interview to an anonymous soldier. In an instant, however, you changed your strategy, if you couldn't convince him you would have to bait him, "Please, sir, give me a few minutes! I bring with me a great surprise, a gift that I know will fill your heart with joy and restore your energy!"

He paused, as if weighing his options. At least that was what you thought, but in truth Baldwin was wondering if he was going crazy. If he had only dreamed, due to exhaustion and fatigue, that the voice speaking to him from outside the tent was not any young man's, but a disguise meant to hide the angelic melodic voice of his beloved wife. Were it really her, Baldwin would not have wasted a moment in throwing open the door for her, taking her into his arms and carrying her to his momentary abode, where her presence alone could be savored by him.

But he knew it could not be possible: you, his beloved wife whose image constantly pervaded his mind, were thousands and thousands of feet away, safe within the walls of your palace, as you had promised him. It was just not possible that you were the one hiding outside the tent, his hopes were just a cruel game of his mind. But by now his attention had been caught by the stranger so eager to talk to the king, to give him this phantom gift. Perhaps there would have been cause for concern, for thought of possible deception or assault by an enemy spy, but Baldwin did not give the thought more than a second's attention, before sighing softly and turning away, gazing back at the white fabrics of the tent. "Very well, come forward then. I hope this surprise you tell me about is really that formidable."

You came close to slinging yourself into the tent, throwing yourself into Baldwin's arms in an instant, and never letting go. But you still couldn't do it; it was too risky. You merely placed a hand on the side of the fabric that closed the curtain, pulling it to go through and letting it fall back behind you. And there you stood, facing Baldwin, clad in that armor far too large for your size, your heart pounding wildly from both the fatigue of the journey and the excitement. And he slowly, with a phlegm as elegant as the waters of a stream, turned to reveal the identity of his mysterious visitor, and you had already freed your face from the tortuous confines of the helmet you had worn for endless hours.

His eyes widened, wide as never before. Perhaps for the first time in his life, Baldwin could say he was truly, truly surprised. A thousand emotions passed from his face, from astonishment, to joy, to anger, and then to sadness, and then to astonishment again. For a moment he seemed about to open his mouth, but he stopped, opting instead to run to you, putting his arms around you, holding you tight and lifting you off the ground so tight was his grip. "My affection, how can you be so foolish! This is no place for you, so far from home, close to the enemy… You promised me you would stay safe, let me go, let me protect you! How could you do something so rash, you who are always so wise? Alone through the desert, what if the enemy had met you before I got here? What would I have done if your lifeless body, tortured by the Saracens, had been brought to me?"

His voice was exhausted, worn out by weariness and emotion that blocked his throat and threatened to make hot tears fall from his white cheeks. His words were harsh and stern, but devoid of any reproach: it was his fear speaking, his fear of seeing you the next day among the stacked bodies of war victims. And as he spoke he held your arms, shook you lightly, and in the process interrupted himself to place chaste kisses on your face, as if through the touch of his lips he was trying to convince himself that you were really there, standing before him. That it was not a mere illusion, a game of his mind.

Gently, with a touch as light as the morning wind, your hands went up his chest to his beautiful face, which you lovingly cupped. "I swore before God that I would not abandon my place at your side until the breath leaves my body. I have enjoyed with you wealth, pomp, and good fortune. But what you have granted me to witness is only half of the aspects of a nuptial union. Poverty, sickness, and the misery of war are the woes that touch every human being, and which two spouses are expected to face together. So now, my king, I beseech you, do not deny me a place at your side as you fight for the honor and freedom of the Holy Land, do not deny me a duty that has been mine since you and I were joined in eternity. It is unjust what you have subjected me to, to have to watch you ride away from me, toward the worst of dangers! And how could you think I would let you go just like that, without opening my mouth? Now we are even, I have retraced the path you yourself have traced, as bereft of safety as you were bereft of my presence. And now together we face this mortal danger, which, however, will never hold a candle to the pain that distance from you brings me!"

Baldwin's eyes softened, though they had a melancholy note in them. He inhaled with shuddering breath, and his grip became softer on your body, his hands descended from his arm to your waist, always holding you as close as physically possible.

"I was always told that silence honors women. This does not suit you, for depriving you of speech robs you of the royalty that makes you my queen. I ask your forgiveness, my angel, for leaving you alone in such a dark time. But try to understand my choice, how self-centered would I have been to ask you to come with me, in the midst of the greatest danger? It was simply too much for me, my beloved, the burden on my heart, begging me to do all that was permissible to keep you safe, even if that necessitated keeping you away from me. You are too far away now for me to send you back to the palace with an escort, and my heart could not bear to part with you for even another hour. You will stay here, ruling your people as you should. But please do not do me the wrong of setting foot on that bloody battlefield tomorrow. If even God decides that tomorrow my hour has come, and I fall lifeless on the bloody ground, do not move a step, do not show any sign of weakness. Don't follow me into the afterlife, don't even think about it: I know full well that I will never have the honor of lying eternally by your side, I am not worthy of it, so don't jeopardize your precious life in the name of an eternity by my side."

You did not respond, and silence fell. Squeezing together for another moment, you broke away shortly thereafter only to move to the bed set up in his tent, not as luxurious as his usual palace bed but certainly far more comfortable than the hay bunks in which soldiers elsewhere rested. Clinging to each other, you remained silent for a few moments. Or maybe it was hours, neither of you knew. Nor did you care, knowing how much time had passed, how much more separated you from the inescapable fate that awaited you the next day. Silent tears streaked your faces, sobs and sighs filled the air of the room. Then, you took courage to open your mouth, your voice soft and melancholy, weakened by weeping. "How unfair is our fate, affection. How bitter is my soul, knowing that tomorrow I must witness such a slaughter, an open-air slaughterhouse in which you yourself may become yet another victim."

As your first response you heard a snort from your husband, who squeezed you tighter for a moment, as if to secure you beside him, engulf you in his body. His lips pressed against your temple, placing a gentle kiss there, and they remained resting there even as he began to speak, "I know, I know my angel. I too wish things were simpler, that I could retire from this world, go and live with you, away from all this chaos, all this violence. You don't know how much I would have liked to abdicate, to leave the throne to Sybilla and her husband. They would have been good rulers, if only dear William had not passed away so soon. And so we have only to live like this, my beloved. To live perpetrated by the duties and horrors that mankind is capable of, all in the name of God's affection," a pause, a look that said a thousand silent words, and then resumed, "in the name of my affection for you… Tomorrow it will be an honor for me to fight, for like the valiant Lancelot, who fought to his last breath in the name of beautiful Guinevere. I do not care if my life will be endangered, if I return wounded and maimed more than leprosy is already reducing me. No, I don't care, because at the end of the day, whether my heart still beats or not, I know that I will return to lie in your arms.

And that makes up for all the injustices I will have to face." The last words were whispered, softened by a deep affection that numbed the senses and made everything as graceful as the clouds in the sky.

More tears streamed down your rosy cheeks, but you tried to conceal them by hiding your face in the crease of Baldwin's neck. The tone grew sterner for a moment as he resumed speaking, intimating you to listen with a grip on your shoulder. "Just promise me that, in case the battle goes badly, and I am dead and defeated and my whole army with me, promise me that you will escape, as far away as you can. Find shelter at the dwellings of those who have abstained from this conflict, find asylum in churches and in any sacred place you can find. Do whatever you can in order to protect your life. Protect what has always been dearest to me, your life."

"I will, I promise." You would have liked to retort, or much less say what he wanted to hear without really thinking it. But deception did not suit you, not toward Baldwin at least. And the mere thought that that might be his last will, which made you want to throw yourself to the ground and cry every tear you had in your body, also made it impossible for you to disobey that simple request, which after all was the request that you care for your own body and soul.

Whether Baldwin had taken your word for it or not, you were not sure, it was hard to say. It didn't matter, both of you were too tired to linger talking any longer, contrary to your usual routine of endless discussions on all kinds of topics. He whispered something to you in his native tongue, and although the language was vaguely unfamiliar to you and fatigue clouded your mind, you could still discern a sweet "I love you" among the words he spoke.

The next day your awakening was similar to the day Baldwin left Jerusalem: alone in bed, the place where your husband lay still warm. Outside the men were shouting orders and the horses were pawing in irritation at the din. In the distance you could hear the cries of the Saracens approaching, and the horns of war echoing in the air. You tried to peep your head out of the tent, but a guard surprised you right in front of the entrance. "My lady, his majesty has ordered that you do not leave the tent until the battle is over." The tone was authoritative and gentle at the same time, but his spear was stretched across the opening of the tent, an admonition far more direct than his words. You obeyed, as you had promised Baldwin that same evening, and without protest you retreated back inside the small temporary dwelling.

And so you stood there, alone and unaware of what was unfolding beyond the white tent. The last sound you were able to discern was your beloved's voice inciting his men to battle, before the din of war produced such a cacophony that it was impossible to understand a single sentence spoken. They rode for a few hundred meters until they reached the place where the battle would take place. They rode so far that the din they caused as they passed became muffled, barely audible. And perhaps it was for the best, for the distance muffled the atrocious sounds of war, of slaughter.

And so you waited there, within the four fabric walls, white as snow, that you feared at every moment might be stained with blood, friend or foe. You waited for the outcome of the battle, dumb with fear, with tension. You awaited Baldwin's return, dead or alive, victorious or defeated. And you did so by standing there, closer to him than was possible, exhausted and restless at the same time.

A/N: Yallll this was LONGGGG. i really really like how this turned out, and i hope you do too! I'm really sorry for how long it took me to write this piece, but I promise the following ones will take much much less🙏🙏🙏 Anyway, now I gotta go start working on those, feel free to leave a comment or feedback about this fic<3<3

[ellaenchanting]

Hypnovember Day 11: Attitude Adjustment/IQ Reduced

It was like she couldn't get the words out fast enough. "And I have 6 discharges tomorrow with no follow up scheduled yet and I haven't even been able to contact some of the families and..."

"Is there anything you can do about any of that tonight?" he asked her, gently stopping the torrent of her work recap.

"No. But! I still need to eat dinner. And wash some clothes for tomorrow. And make sure the kids are ok...."

"Shh," he said comfortingly. "I've already washed and folded the clothes. And I told the kids mommy was working late so they're already asleep. You're done for the day."

She sighed deeply.

He put his hand on her cheek, gently moving her head so she was looking directly into his eyes. "Relaaaax," he said, stretching the word out meaningfully. His tone shifted too, to something deep and steady. "You're home. You're safe. Just relax, now."

It had been a while since she heard him speak like this. She missed it.

Too bad it wouldn't work. She was way too stressed. She almost felt herself get caught in his gaze for a moment but- then her anxiety rushed back in, like a wave crashing over a too-short wall.

His hand moved around to rub the back of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just so stressed I can't THINK it's like I try and it's just STATIC in my head. I sat in the parking lot for 5 minutes before I could even make myself drive home."

"Mmmmm," he murmured, still rubbing her neck. "Breathe, honey."

He breathed in and out slowly to demonstrate. She found herself following along, taking a few deep breaths before even thinking about it. Between the breathing and his light neck massage, she was beginning to feel better.

He made sure he had her gaze before offering- "If you want, I could make things simpler for you for a bit. Would you like that?"

A shiver ran through her at the sound of her old trigger- "simpler". It had been some time since they had done this but they both understood what he was offering. Would it still work?

She nodded her head but didn't want to disappoint him or herself- not after so long.

"I want to? But I honestly don't know how I'll respond," she said, "I can barely concentrate right now."

But even as she was protesting, she found herself automatically following his hand as it floated just above her forehead. Another of their old signals, this one nonverbal: "Pay attention".

She did.

His fingers came closer and closer to her forehead before finally touching, rubbing a small spiral right in the middle.

"Shhhhh...." his voice soothed.

Something inside her shifted.

It wasn't a quick, profound drop like she had experienced in the past but- she found herself instinctively closing her eyes anyway. When she did, the noise in her head seemed to quiet down automatically.

"Good," he said. "That's perfect. You remember just how to do this, don't you? I know you do. It's like riding a bicycle - part of you never forgets."

"I know you talked about having static in your head- but maybe we can use that to help you let go a bit more. Static doesn't have to be harsh, you know. Maybe your static is like- a white noise generator, blocking anything unnecessary out. Quiet and soothing. Like the one you listen to when you go to sleep. Just- think of that gentle static playing while you sleep. Helping you rest. You can notice it- and then you can let it all fade into the background. It just makes everything quieter, doesn't it? Simpler. "

She nodded her head, easily caught in his instructions. The shudder that went through her at the trigger felt more profound this time.

Simpler.

She remembered the old imagery they had worked on- the wheels of the clockwork of her thoughts slowing. Slowing. Grinding to a halt.

As she pictured those slowing gears, she could feel her inner monologue growing distant and dreamlike. Her awareness moved from her lumbering thoughts to her body- almost like her mind itself had moved from her head to somewhere in her chest. Her senses began heightening and she was drawn more and more to what the room smelled like, how the carpet felt, the gentle sound of the ceiling fan. She found herself getting lost in a world of sensation.

"That's good, honey," he encouraged. "You don't need to think right now. I've got all your bigger thoughts for safekeeping. You remember how to be simpler for me, don't you? No big words, no big thoughts. Just how you feel in this moment. OK?"

She nodded. It was the easiest way to communicate now. She still had some words but- it was easier not to use them when she was simpler. She trusted him to understand what she needed without bothering to speak.

"Good. Can you open your eyes for me?"

She did.

"How does your body feel right now?" he asked.

She checked- mentally scanning herself from head to toe.

"Tired," she replied eventually. "Hungry."

She looked up at him.

"Do you want some food?"

It took her a few moments to contemplate the thought before she eventually replied with a simple: "Yes".

He smiled at her in a way that might have struck her as patronizing at a different time.

His smile caused an unexpected spike in another sensation- one that had been hiding underneath all of her stress all along.

Until now.

"I'm going to warm dinner up- we'll have it here," he was saying. "I'll be right back."

"Wait!" she cried, suddenly.

He stopped and turned back, curiously.

Now she needed to find words again.

Her brows crossed as she tuned into her body in that slow, deep way that came with this state. There was a heat between her legs that spread upwards as she noticed it more thoroughly. She began to notice the feeling of the air on her arms and the slight way her bra rubbed against her breasts when she breathed. "Horny?" she said, finally finding the right word for how she was feeling.

He laughed. "Good girl. Yeah- that old conditioning is still working for you, huh? I bet you feel horny right now. Does it feel good?"

She nodded, that response coming much more quickly than most.

It DID feel good.

Without really thinking about it, her hands moved to her right breast, squeezing it.

THAT felt even better.

"Mmmm- I guess that's my answer then, huh?" he asked. "Tell you what- you need to eat before we do anything else. So- I'm going to go get the food. But while I'm doing that? You can touch yourself as much as you want. Do whatever feels good to your body, ok?"

She nodded again, barely paying attention to his words. Her hands moved all over her flesh as she caressed her newly sensitive skin rapturously. She wanted to touch everywhere.

"My only rule is that you don't come, ok? I want to save that for later."

She nodded absently, focused on a wonderful spot she had found on the side of her stomach. Part of her brain was receiving his instructions but- she didn't have to think about that part. She just had to focus on touching.

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "And stay nice and quiet while you touch, yeah? We don't want to wake anyone else up."

She nodded, biting back a moan as her hand finally slid to her pussy.

He looked on for a moment, seeming almost hypnotized himself by his writhing, almost animalistic wife.

Food first, he reminded himself.

Then sex.

Then putting a note in his phone to call the babysitter for her weekend availability. It had been FAR too long since they had played like this and next time?

He wanted her to be LOUD.

Tagging @mentat101posts @thekinkycocktailclub @jam-and-stuff

[usmsgutterson]

I'm just spitballing (I haven't written for spencer bc I've been focused on a different fandom) bc it's been ages and non! bau reader has been stuck in my head for all that time. also tired and trying to wind down for bed so excuse any grammar errors lol

Spencer coming home and feeling relieved when he remembers the apartment isn't empty, usually hearing music coming from either the kitchen, the bathroom or your bedroom, depending on whether you're making dinner, making a sweet treat (first thing my brain went to was blondies and an iced tea) or getting ready for bed/to wind down before you go to sleep.

spending his off days with you, curled up either in bed or on the couch, idly chatting with either Dr Who or a nature documentary on in the background, neither of you fully awake because you're curled up under blankets

TIRED BUTTERFLY KISSES WHEN SPENCER COMES HOME FROM A CASE LATE AT NIGHT!! You stay up and wait for him (as long as you can anyway, you do have to work provided it's not a weekend) but you can only stay up so long, right?? so when he gets home, he sees you on his side of the bed and just,, changes into pajamas as quietly as he can as not to disturb you, but the minute you feel the bed dip you turn and roll into his arms, n then give him butterfly kisses because you're so tired that you can't open your eyes and also don't want to speak but you want him to know you've missed him and butterfly kisses are the easiest way to communicate that (spencer would also enjoy them generally, I don't really feel like he's big on quick pecks and shit like that so butterfly kisses are the next best thing)

[bitchesgetriches]

Bitches I need some advice.

I'm fat, okay? I'm not ashamed about it. It just... Is. I'm fat.

Being fat is also fucking me up. It's causing me sleep problems, it's fucking my joints, I can't walk as far as I used to, I haven't run in years.

I want to lose weight. Not for anyone else. For me. I want to be fit again.

I'm surrounded by people telling me I'm "not fat" and need to "love myself like I am". I'm 210lb and 5'3". Ya girl is fat. And I'm okay with that it's not a bad word. I love myself. But I also love the things I used to be able to do when I was fitter. It's just really fucking hard.

I've got zero support left and right. And I don't know what to do. I know this isn't your area of expertise, but you're such great internet mamas that maybe you can help.

My darling child, we are SO humbled that you came to us with this. And while this isn't an area of our OFFICIAL expertise... weight and athleticism is something that I, Piggy, personally think a lot about! So let me see if I can offer some support to you, my beloved fat child.

By way of background: I have never been fat. Heavier than I want currently, but not fat. So I don't completely understand what you're going through. I have always been an athlete of one sort or the other. But more than that, I have always had the privilege of being relatively skinny without trying. At peak fitness I was running and rock climbing and doing all the stretchy and weight-trainy stuff. I was 5'5" and 130 lbs of jacked Bitch.

I am also a proud Italian American woman, which means that after 30 genetics decreed that I start putting on weight and rounding out and coming into my full Zia-ness. I'm currently 155 lbs. and running/climbing/stretching/jumping about/weight training is getting harder and harder. And that's frustrating to me.

Fat is not a bad word, merely a descriptor. So I'mma use it just as you have! I'm proud that you are prioritizing your health and ability to do what you love over losing weight for the sake of just being smaller. Because let's be clear: weight and health do not necessarily go hand in hand. If your goal is to improve your sleep quality, energy levels, and joint pain, then you should focus on activities that will work directly on those issues. Maybe that'll lead to weight loss--maybe not!

A lot of the medical establishment is cruel to fat people, so I'd be cautious about approaching this with your doctor. But you SHOULD get medical guidance before embarking on any kind of physical change. If your doctor says "Well, just lose weight through diet and exercise!" then you might want to look for a new doctor. If they instead offer practical solutions for incremental improvement, then great.

One of my favorite athletes is The Mirnavator. She's a fat marathon runner and offers a lot of information on how to start walking more and running as a fat person. I think she'll be a good role model for you as she focuses a lot on energy and joint health.

Also, you should check out Aubrey Gordon's blog Your Fat Friend and her podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase. She's also got some great books out! She's a fat expert on weight loss and diet culture. And her insights into healthy nutrition and body image are amazing. Her data-based approach will help you avoid the extreme dieting and weight loss trends that can hurt your health. Plus she's funny as fuck.

Lastly I will just say that mental health is tied to physical health. You're bummed about not doing the things you use to be able to do... and that probably makes it a lot harder to change! Acknowledge any depression or anxiety you feel about being fat and give yourself compassion. Start small and do what feels good.

Now here are two VERY old articles I wrote when I knew less about fatness. I think they still have a little bit to offer, though:

Why You Probably Don't Need That Gym Membership

Run With Me if You Want to Save: How Exercising Will Save You Money 

Any fat members of Bitch Nation who want to weigh in? Uh... pun not intended.

[vidavalor]

"You love trains": Crowley & Aziraphale inspired 'North by Northwest'

Putting my film studies background to good use here with some film history & historical context under the cut.

The "what does the J stand for?" exchange in The Blitz, Part 1 and the inability for the audience to initially understand what Aziraphale is mouthing in The Blitz, Part 2 are both references to Hitchcock's classic spy thriller, 'North by Northwest'. I didn't link the clip that goes along with The Blitz, Part 2 in case some of you have never seen this film because it would ruin your experience of it. (Definitely watch it if you have not as it's a masterpiece.) Since The Blitz scenes are taking place in 1941 and 'North by Northwest' was released 18 years later in 1959, Crowley and Aziraphale aren't referencing the film in the dialogue but, instead, could be presumed to be the source *of* the dialogue in the film... just like how Shakespeare lifted Crowley's love poetry for 'Antony & Cleopatra'... and the 'North by Northwest'-referencing part of The Blitz, Part 1 *is referencing* the 'Antony and Cleopatra' reference because it's the reveal of Crowley's first name. But... it gets even better...

The writer of 'North by Northwest' was legendary Hollywood screenwriter Ernest Lehman, whom we're now presuming to have been a friend of probably at least Aziraphale's. Lehman wrote a dozen or so classic films and, outside of 'North by Northwest', is most famous for writing adaptations of several famous musicals, including the adapted screenplay for... 'The Sound of Music.' But, no, somehow, we aren't done yet with how amazing this is lol.

The thing that makes this all even funnier is that 'North by Northwest' is responsible for probably the most famous train metaphor in cinema. I'll spoil just this bit as it won't really ruin the overall movie for you if you haven't seen it but don't go any further than here if you don't want to be spoiled at all. If you've already seen it, you totally know what I mean. *laughs*

In 1959, when this film was released, you still couldn't really show sex on screen in a mainstream film. If you showed two people in a bedroom at all, they were cisgender, heterosexual and married and they slept in two separate beds. The level of sex happening in the above clip was *wild* for the era and the fact that it was put into the film the way it is-- that an unmarried woman picks up a hot guy on a train and they sleep together and she's still the heroine of the film and all of that-- was really nothing short of feminist revolution in a film in this era.

The film has a famous "love scene" of sorts that follows not long after the one I linked above, where the two of them are in a cabin on the train and starting to get it on but constraints of cinema coding at the time limited how far it could go. So, to imply that the main characters do, in fact, sleep together, the film famously cuts away to a shot of the train entering a tunnel-- making the train itself symbolic of sex. Because of how famous the film overall--and this scene in particular--became, it became a thing to use trains euphemistically for sex in other cinematic works following it. There is literally no way that Crowley and Aziraphale have not seen this movie so while Aziraphale was happy to make The Bentley into a sexual metaphor while angling for the car keys, Crowley is half-heartedly griping in flirty response by continually referencing trains, another sexual mode of transportation-- the one that that they inspired lol. Hence Aziraphale's bemused little lololol-but-won't-give-him-the-satisfaction-of-seeing-my-amusement face here:

Sunglassed!Cary Grant is Crowley and the old movie chemistry and the semi-coded flirty banter and someone please, please write a fic where Aziraphale says "I don't particularly like the book I've started"-- I will pay you lol.

[oh-biwan]

[rattling cage] Do you have any Obikin fics that you've enjoyed? Your beautiful art made me slip right down the ship rabbit hole and now I need recs, any rating/theme.

-blushes, clears throat- Hi!

I like a lot of different flavors but, to keep it simple, I'll try to match my recommendations to the theme I'm cultivating on this blog so far.

First of all, I have to mention skyl_tales, they wrote some of the absolute Obikin classics and I love their work, it's very dear to me. If you haven't read anything from them yet, I strongly recommend taking a look at their works and going for anything that captures your attention!

Alright, now my conscience is clear and we can move on:

Armageddon Game by posthumous_vigor

One of my more recent obsessions. Basically, padawan Obi-Wan gets captured by Sith Anakin and then groomed to the Dark Side. What I enjoy about this one is how, even despite the unfavorable cards that Obi-Wan has been dealt, he cleverly chases down his goals... but not without twisting himself in the pursuit as well. He is an active actor in this play and ultimately it is not Anakin who Obi-Wan plays against. And by recommending this I'm recommending the whole series :).

Untouched by objectlesson

This fic has one the most predatory padawan Anakin I've ever seen. This child is just so deliciously fucked up in the head. I... I think I'll just let the author's summary speak for itself: In his darkest moments, Anakin began to think of it as his right. To control Obi-Wan’s sleeping mind, force it into a box, shut it up so he could take what he deserved. Warm skin, slack face, soft snores. And then—then—more.

pleasure, little treasure by objectlesson

A guilty pleasure of mine. And probably a very hard pill to swallow, so careful there. In this one, Vader goes back in time, kidnaps Jedi initiate Obi-Wan, and makes him his apprentice. Yes, it's very dark, a psychological horror, but this author writes with such skill and poetry that I trusted they could make me enjoy reading stuff I'd normally avoid... And I was right. The beauty in the abominable. That's why I love this author, the things they write are so refreshingly daring and so deeply fucked up on so many levels, but served in a way that makes me swallow it all up without question. (oh, I should probably mention that as of now this fic is unfinished, I seldomly pick up unfinished works, but with this one, I have no regrets :))

hold my heart more gently than you do my throat by tennessoui

This is a role reversal omegaverse AU. Master Skywalker has been captured by the Separatists, and behind the Council's back, his omega Padawan sets out to save the master in distress. It is debatable if the master in question needs the saving -noises of massacre in the background- (he did need the saving, in my opinion :)). What I really love about this fic are the horror vibes of little Padawan getting chased down the hallways of the enemy base full of dead bodies, and an unknown monster breathing down his neck, but the only thing on his mind is how to find his master and rescue him. Also, I enjoyed the final twist and how the story unfolded in the end. Satisfying. If omegaverse is your thing I definitely recommend this one.

game plan by treescape

Out of all the recommendations, I consider this to be the tame one. If all of the above made you hesitant to try, this is the one to go with. The summary: Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It's kind of a thing. I'm recommending this one for the banter. Some of it is just next level. Very amusing to read. Chef's kiss.

[somewhat-insane]

Okay, so, I know a lot of people were discouraged after the LMK S5 trailer. The art is different, yes, but remember there are still people working behind the screen; passionate about this story they're trying to tell. To rebuild faith and re-spark hope, I'm going through the trailer frame by frame and sharing anything cool I find. (There is some (what I hope is) constructive criticism in here, but I would like to reiterate something other fans have said. DO. NOT. HARRASS. ANYONE. WORKING. ON. THE. SHOW. They're doing their best with what they have available to them. We're lucky Wildbrain decided to pick the show back up because if they hadn't, we may not have gotten the rest of the story.)

They've been brought in front of the council to discuss their car's extended warranty. ALSO WHERE IS MK'S JACKET AND BANDANA? THEY WHOLE ASS PROBABLY SNATCHED THIS POOR BOY OUT OF HIS BED WHILE HE WAS SLEEPING

Don't worry, babygirl, I still think you're pretty ^3^

Okay, they gave him his clothes back, phew.

Hehe, tiny monkies.

At least our child is still adorable.

Synchronized heart attack.

He is so traumatized, lol. Someone brought up how this design for the circlet wasn't the previously established design in the show, but it COULD be based on the design used on the cover of the Journey to the West novel (as seen below)

It's not exactly the same but the shape is similar.

Anyway.

WUKONG ANGST WUKONG ANGST WUKONG ANGST

I'm realizing while doing this that Wildbrain doesn't use as many smear frames as Flying Bark did. As funny as it is to pause and see something like this in season 1-4:

It makes the animation look a LOT smoother and more energetic. Flying Bark also seems to use more frame-by-frame while Wildbrain probably uses more tweening. I suppose it makes sense though because Wildbrain is more used to 3D animation and the 2D animation they have done in the past is more paper-doll-like and doesn't need as much bounce and action.

Back to the trailer, no need to dwell.........

MO. HANG IN THERE.

MONKEY ANGST MONKEY ANGST MONKEY ANGST aposhdgpafoshdfosfapsdofpa

Oooh, wait, this frame actually kinda goes hard. I'm kinda hyped... I should draw this.

NO BRO DON'T MAKE ME CRY JUST BECAUSE OF A TRAILER

You know what this makes me think of...? Did any of you guys ever play that game called "Journey"?

It's a beautiful game with beautiful music. Y'all should play it if you haven't. Oh, and sometimes if you're playing at the same time as someone else in the world, your games will merge and you get a little play buddy :3

Genuinely love how distressed he is here.

SHADOWPEACH ANGST SHADOWPEACH ANGST

Looks like we're still gonna get cool backgrounds and background character designs!!!!

This looks like it may be some kind of storybook or memory sequence like when Chang'e was talking about how she found the ring in S3 or when LBD was talking about Macaque's death... what memory do you think we're going to be exploring this time?

This goes pretty hard. I would paint this on a wall or something.

Mk is flabbergasted.

Yay!! Mk has the support he needs. ALSO MORE SANDY

They're mortified. Probably because they just watched a giant dragon and white tiger fucking evaporate.

Hehe bord

I can't wait to see fanart of him. I'm so excited!

SHADOWPEACH SHADOWPEACH SHADOWPEACH

He's thinking about kissing him, honest.

I think he's purty

MORE PIGSY-

I've run out of room for pictures, but I hope this helped get y'all all hyped again for the new season! Have hope, stay strong!

[magellanicclouds]

Halo - An Essay: regarding waste management systems and devices for MJOLNIR armoured Spartans It has been a hectic sort of few weeks. Between work and getting sick again (for the fourth time already this year thanks to my crewmates who can't remember it's their duty to stay home when they're ill) I've been on the outs. I haven't had the energy for much, but I'm usually a pretty active person, so this has kind of made me loopy? Which feels like as good a time as any to talk at length about the concept of catheterizing Spartans for waste management in MJOLNIR.

Let me explain.

This Silly Post crossed my dash recently and I fully understand it is meant as lighthearted fun - we have fun here. But it also dragged out some strong thoughts I've had haunting in the back of my mind about this for years because I'm super normal about Halo, and have time on my hands and the right amount of sleep deprivation and medication on board. So I wrote 3500 words about it. And about Karen Traviss, who is pretty knotted up in this conversation, since she's the one who decided to start it back in 2011.

To preface, I'm not an expert, but I have worked in emergency medicine for 25 years, and been a fan of Halo for almost as long. I've had more of a lukewarm relationship with it the last decade or so if I'm being honest, but it will always have a home in my heart; I just think letting it under my skin like that in the first place may have made me feral and prone to biting. Thankfully, I can always happily rotate Fred in my mind until the heat-death of the universe, so that's nice. Anyway, full disclosure: the essay below contains discussion about medical devices, physical trauma, and I am sharing quite a lot of personal negativity about the Kilo-5 trilogy and Karen Traviss. That said, if you'd like to sit in on the length of what I'm about to yell into the sky about all this, you can find it under the cut. I love you.

Welcome to my dissertation.

Section 1 - The Relevant Background:

Equipping Spartans with urinary catheters weeded itself into the Halo universe in the 2011 book Halo: Glasslands, during a conversation between Spartan II Naomi-010 and ODST Mal Geffen. Glasslands was the first in Karen Traviss's Kilo-5 trilogy, and she is both the originator of this, and the only official Halo author or source to have used catheters specifically since. Some context: I don't personally like these books, or their author, or even her reasoning for why she chose to add this. My personal preference doesn't make something 'bad', and I'm not out to hurt any feelings. Kilo-5 isn't a total wash for me, there are some characters and ideas that I'd of otherwise loved to have seen explored through the lens of a different author, but these books felt smothered under Traviss's habit of always injecting her very loud personal voice into the narrative fabric. I think this is something that's fine to do in an original series, but doesn't really belong in an established third party IP. She bangs on about so much of her own narrow worldview and self-assured prejudices across the trilogy that still discussing them today creates division in the fandom, and sadly did a lot of lasting damage to a couple characters. But for the topic here, the dialogue that started all this cath chat came from Naomi-010, having idle conversation with Mal who asks her about bathroom breaks. “I’m catheterized. Another reason why that machine has to be so precisely calibrated. This suit plugs into me in a lot of places.” 'The Machine' she's referring to is a Brokkr assembly, which was introduced to the lore as a large mechanical armature used to get Spartans in and out of MJOLNIR. You can see them in action in cinematics from Halo 4 (+Spartan Ops) and 5.

One single mention, and it was big news. Traviss was naturally interviewed about it because of course she was - people can't help themselves but forget an entire novel and tunnel vision on 'but how pee pee?', and her answer has always irritated me. It's not in what she says, so much as what 'what she says' means in her voice. Traviss didn't answer it directly, but instead talked about how she likes to get into character's heads by addressing the mundane necessity of things that often go overlooked to expand a sense of familiarity with the character and their world. Sounds super reasonable, I know, but don't give her too much credit - that's not a quote. It's just me paraphrasing and honestly I was pretty generous in my wording. Probably because I agree! What bugs me about it, is if you've ever read literally any interview with her, or her personal musings about her writing process, you know there's a bit of an 'honesty' issue there. She's somebody who feels perfectly comfortable ignoring established character voices, traits, or histories to satisfy whatever roles she's reinvented for them, and too many others wind up as mouthpieces. How much are you really challenging yourself in finding characters' voices when most of them are just yours? And the part about familiarity with their world? I giggled a little. She doesn't care about their world, or their aesthetics, or their technology, or their medicine. Because she didn't care about Halo while writing these, and she's not vague about admitting that. It's a matter of pride for her to purposefully refuse to research those things, in the same way she disregarded Star Wars and Gears of War - she doesn't consider the effort to be a valuable part of her process. So instead she'll skim the foundation, gather some recognizable names, pick her targets, and trusts that her personal experiences combined with an outsider perspective will generate better content to seamlessly overwrite what existed. Cool, Karen. Annoying, but why bring all that up? We're here to talk about catheters, right? Well, the fandom for the most part begin and end their assessment of the dialogue at urinary catheters, but the whole quote implies so much more than that - "This suit plugs into me in a lot of places." We're not just dealing with a cath, but apparently with multiple additional external-to-invasive connections. Reader, this dialogue is a plinth to Traviss's bizarre refusal to research not only the franchises she's contracted to write in, but also just into the basic function and hazards of existing concepts that she wants to introduce, and all because she's convinced herself she's done learning about the world. Choosing to ignore the creative freedom of limitless potential in a future of technology that would be basically magic to us today, and instead degrade 529 years of advancement is certainly a take, but it's even more ridiculous to do it with a subject (The Spartan Programme) that is considered to be the peak of advancement in that future's setting. That's clownery, just like her alleged commitment to adjusting her perspective to suit a universe's world.

I want to close out this section with a question: Why is it that writers in the Halo space - both fan and official - cling so tightly to current-day modern concepts as if they'd still be perfectly relevant in 500+ years? Music, for example, apparently suffered a multi-century stagnation in lots of published and fanmade Halo media. Though my partner made a strong counterpoint about this to be fair: we still listen to music composed by Mozart. So there's an argument to be made there. Medicine though. There is way less latitude to embrace the classics there. It's been shown across several games, novels, and films to be sufficiently advanced well beyond anything we're currently capable of or even understand, so why undermine that and choose to drag it centuries backward? For clarity, I am not talking about what might be standard in the public or private sectors, nor the enduring things that'd be used by the public and military alike, like sterile dressings, syringes, supplemental oxygen equipment. Those are the Basics and they will be relevant to us indefinitely. But I'm talking about the UNSC. I'm talking about ONI R&D. I'm talking about Section Three. Retrograding tech and failing to address a necessity that applies to every living person in the Super Soldier Wizardry department makes my mouth flatten into a tight little line.

Section Two - Caths, and why this whole thing got written:

Indwelling urinary catheters, both urethral and suprapubic. There's a laundry list of problems here, but I've distilled it down to the three biggest when suggesting they'd have any safe practical application in Spartans: Care. Activity. Damage. There is unreasonable expectations of care and maintenance for caths with regards to people who can be on operations isolated for months at a time with no support of any kind and are often limited to carrying only what can be kept on their person. The level of extreme physical activity Spartans engage in on any perfectly normal day whether deployed or not is unfit for the stability and safety of a cath. And damage; obvious enough, but with this one I'll be taking a huge emphasis on concussive forces - explosions. Something Spartans are subjected to a lot. I'll be using the height of modern-day catheter quality as a baseline for this, since that's what Traviss felt was sufficient. Regarding Urethral vs Suprapubic, Traviss doesn't specify by name, but Naomi's comment in full reads to me that she's only catheterized temporarily while armoured, hence the assembly needing to be so finely calibrated. Foley caths are temporary urethral caths that would only supplement the urinary process while a person was armoured. Suprapubic caths however are surgically placed devices. They do need routine tube replacement to keep them clean, but unlike the Foley that just serves as an aide measure for an otherwise fully functioning bladder, suprapubic caths are usually placed in people with congenital bladder disfunction, or who've suffered injury or disease that left the bladder in poor health or failure. This type of access will always require a tube in place and this would be the exclusive method of urination - in or out of armour. My Big Three Concerns fit both types similarly, though there is some additional risks associated with urethral caths that I'll cover.

Care: Caring for an invasive cath is a not insignificant effort. They're prone to blockage, kinking, and bacterial growth. They're so frequently responsible for UTIs and kidney stones that these complications are just considered the Standard Fair for having a cath. Their need to be frequently replaced because of their penchant for bacterial growth is the kicker here - whole floral colonies sprout up in caths and can eek their way out into the body through compromised tissue and wreck havoc. They have no self-cleaning mechanism, and steadily deteriorate. Changing and replacing an indwelling cath is a procedure that requires additional supplies that'd have to be carried, and needs to be done in a practiced and clean setting; preferably medical. Granted, there are people who manage the removal and insertion of their own caths at home, but they still need to ensure a clean and safe environment while they do this. A Spartan could never be guaranteed that, nor would it even be wise to consider the vulnerability of removing so much armour to handle it. Modern day caths are recommended to be replaced every 30 days or so, with some models able to be in place for a few months at a time, but that's with constant daily care and cleaning; something that'd be unreasonable for a Spartan to maintain while entrenched who knows where for who knows how long, and without access to replacement medical supplies. Those endurance times between replacements are geared for the average public person who leads an average public life and care for their cath as directed and don't get into fist fights with Sangheili. Needless to say, the endurance time for the same device in a Spartan who leads a wildly different lifestyle probably cuts those times down to a third.

Activity: Modern day caths are designed to offer people the most utility and versatility possible. Both models are available for people who are bed-bound or have extremely limited mobility, as well as for those who are mobile, independent, and live out average lives. With regards to the latter, suprapubics are somewhat more common, if for no other reason than to reduce the Foley's higher risks of induction injury, but modern urethral caths also allow for regular movement and activity with a more reduced chance of becoming dislodged or damaged than they would have had a couple decades ago. But when I say regular activity, I mean going on a walk. Shopping for groceries. Doing basic house chores. Even light exercise and sexual activity can be managed with physician advisement and the appropriate precautions taken. Anytime a Spartan was fielded they'd have to be all the more overly-cautious about Movements Outside of Their Control during confrontations, maneuvers, ambush, environmental or vehicular incidents. Even when things go well there'd be too much risk involved. That said, traumatic decatheterizations happen more frequently than anyone would like, and I'm talking about regular old Joe Everybody. I respond to no less than a dozen of these incidents a year. Both types of catheter are held in place by a bulb balloon that's inflated from a port with around 10-30ccs of saline after the tube enters the bladder (30ccs would be more appropriate for better security of the line). Before removing a cath, the saline is removed to deflate the balloon and the tube is guided out - with a Foley cath, that means being guided out of the urethra. When a Foley cath is traumatically removed, the saline filled balloon - which is like five times wider in diameter than the average 6mm urethra - does a pretty devastating amount of damage on it's way out, penis or vagina; though a penile urethra has significantly more length to damage, and the penile meatus very typically is torn. These incidents run high risk of bladder hematoma as well, which requires urgent surgical intervention. The very worst traumatic decatheterizations I've responded to were all penile and had trauma to external tissue. Ever microwaved a hotdog a little too long?

Damage: How often are Spartans subjected to explosive and other concussive forces? Silly question - answer: a lot and often and unavoidable. And we know they still feel the powerful feedback. Despite shields and dampeners and a self-moderating gel layer, strong inertial forces are still felt through the suits. Across multiple novels we're given details about near misses and blasts, accelerated or uncontrolled falls, rattling their teeth, hampering their vision, hearing, or balance; they've been rendered unconscious and suffered internal injuries. The fact that most of these events don't flat out kill them is a credit to their armour and augmentations. For reference - when a person experiences explosive or concussive force from a distance enough to avoid separation of limbs, bisection, etc, the totality of their injuries can't and won't be seen externally. How they present on the outside is just the tippy tip of the iceburg - it's what's happened to them internally that you need to be concerned about. Cracked or fractured bones, torn musculature, arterial shearing, hollow organ rupture, cardiac and brain tissue bleed, to name some common ones, and this kind of trauma extends to all implanted devices as well. For example, rods and nails and other structural aids or replacements are much more resilient than your organic tissues, and can dislodge when tissues tear or rupture, damaging anything in their way like shrapnel. The fragile little balloon of a catheter will shatter when subjected to even relatively minor explosive force, so to even consider for a moment that this would be a viable piece of equipment for people intended to routinely be involved in explosive environments is beyond willful negligence. That there wouldn't be a better solution to the question of waste management - a necessity for literally all human people who make up the entirety of the Spartan branch, with the infinite funding of ONI R&D seems so stupid to me that I… well, that I wrote this. Because, friends - participating in active warfare is not cath-safe. The kinds of physical demands and forces on Spartan bodies are not cath-safe. The risks will never outweigh the benefits to this. Even while sealed in powered armour and a skinsuit tech layer, the very thought of Section Three engineers or Halsey or anyone involved in the development of MJOLNIR dismissing the glaring obvious failure of Spartans having any kind of externalized invasive devices is so unreasonably negligent that it could only be the brainchild of an author who's convinced that these characters are all actually just psuedo-intelligent government boogiemen who aren't as capable as they claim to be. But No. They are that capable, and they are that intelligent and the fact that they have a bottomless budget and deeply flexible ethics is literally what makes them so dangerous.

So if we have to address this, how do we do it? Apparently there was always an official answer for this. Former Franchise Development Director, creator of the Master Chief**, and extremely racist asshole Frank O'Connor weighed in on this in the same interview, where he almost immediate rejected and denied Traviss's catheterization claim and says that 'this sort of stuff' was the kind of thing he and the other creative heads at Bungie/343i talked and planned about all the time. So how does this work then, because we're invested now. According to 'ol Frankie's elegant input: they just pee freely into the suit. That's it. For clarity, he's talking about the skinsuit and not the MJOLNIR interior proper. He goes on to say that connectivity between body and MJOLNIR at all levels is fully noninvasive, but precise, and that it doesn't matter what kind of body output a Spartan introduces into the suit interior, because a hygienic valve system (??) will scrub it continually and collect all matter for recycling and reintroduction via capillary action powered by movement. It's not clear in what layers or intermediaries these mechanisms occupy, he doesn't break it down more than that. But that's the answer, and it did exist back when Traviss was penning Kilo-5.

Is this answer better than haphazardly plugging extension cords from actual organ systems into MJOLNIR interior? Yes. Like, leagues better by comparison, but also I still think it sucks. To me anyway. It's flat out gross as hell, which definitely fits the personal brand of a man who proudly overfed his cat and called himself "Stinkles", but also it just doesn't strike me as the kind of design strategy ONI would pursue for any of their assets. Beside it just being 100% torn from Dune's stillsuits, it's also missing that special brand of proprietary Section Three je ne sais quoi. There's layers upon layers of too-specialized equipment installed into these people for everything else, why skip this? A body function that should have been Point 3 on a 50 point list of 'stuff to manage'. Also though? It's a lot of freedom. This is just another easy opportunity to add yet another layer of dependence. Spartans are expensive equipment. It doesn't do to give them any fewer reasons to think they can ever walk away.

So anyway, I figured I'd take a crack at it. I came up with this while editing the last two paragraphs: [Waste management] - a fully internalized collection and processing device - lets say a cybernetic implantation - that entirely replaces the bladder. It has bio-organic lumens that interconnect it to the GI and Hepatic organs. The implant assists in accelerating the processing of gathering and refining waste materials with the help of nanobots that identify and redirect waste along the lumens of each system, plus they keep the implant clean and free of bad flora. All twice-processed waste gets refined a lot quicker and any water by-product of the process is refined and redistributed back to the organs along the lumens. None of the refined water is removed from the body for drinking, because that's an unnecessary step; it's already inside. (Drinking water would be the responsibility of a suit system more likely - like, sweat leeching in the skinsuit; refine, filtrate, purify, collect into a reservoir, and jettison the excess sodium. ) There is no 'extraction of other viable nutrient' from the remainder, it's been twice identified as waste. It gets catabolized and consumed by the nanobots as a fuel source, and no externalized waste is created at all while the Spartan is geared up. The implant doesn't always run like this - it only engages this way when the Spartan is wearing MJOLNIR, and when they're not, it just works like an out-of-the-box bladder. The intermittence of usage lets the organic organs truck along as usual, preventing risk of atrophy, and the Spartan can just use a bathroom like everyone else. I'm not a bioengineer, but I do like sci fi and I think all that sounds like something that'd be possible in this sandbox. And that's the real fun of it, isn't it? There's no way anyone today can anticipate what sort of gadgetry might be available 500+ years from now, especially in a fictional universe that includes military tech hybridized with reverse engineered alien tech.

I think it's fascinating when writers and artists shake loose and really grab the reins, and I love seeing the fruit of that labour in this particular tumblr community so often. We're not a huge Halo circle, but we're a passionate one, and if this essay leaves you with nothing else, I hope it will at least remind you to Go For It when you're writing your next fic or drawing your next piece, or composing, or sewing, or printing, or anything!

In Conclusion: Rest easy, friends.

Despite Traviss's word and even books that went to print, the official canon is that Spartans are not catheterized. If that's a bummer for anyone, canon can't stop you from writing whatever you want, but I do hope maybe you'll remember my reasoning for why it might not be the best idea? At least not for armoured Spartans. A Spartan, but they're laid up in hospital? Any non-Spartan personnel? Maybe you're writing in the public sector, a colony world or vessel? Sure - I'll bet caths are still plenty widely used. Why not? They're a blissfully simple and useful effective piece of equipment. It's just all about adjusting and adapting for practicality. Medical science, like any technology, adapts and evolves infinitely as we learn and discover new things. Treatments or drug algorithms I'd of used just last year have already undergone changes, and protocols are amended constantly. It's why a person 'practices' medicine; why a scientist is always a student. If questions like this or similar really need answering in your next work, remember: Give yourself the credit you deserve, and embrace the spirit of invention. Let my Cyber Bladder, by Sparklets be the candle in the window for you!

You may all retrieve your keys from the bowl and unsilence your phones. Stay safe and please text me when you get home. Thank you. ' u ' **Addendum: Former Bungie Creative Art Director Marcus Lehto is in fact the person who is most associated with the creation of the Master Chief.**

[thetriplets3]

whispering to each other + searching for the other’s hand in bed like theyre both tired but cant fall asleep (matt or chris x y/n or smt)

❝𝐢’𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰❞

pairing: matt x reader (no defined relationship but mutual pining?)

warnings: brief mention of anxious thoughts, loneliness, depression, vague mention of suicidal wishes

a/n special thanks to @dwntwn-strnlo for editing this you’re the best and shoutout to whoever it was to color code dialogue i took that idea anyways enjoy 🍿

having my 3 best friends away on tour was hard enough but having a rough few weeks physically and mentally on top of that was really hard on me. since i've moved here i haven't really made any friends. parties, events, and crowded loud places aren't my thing which makes it hard to meet people. sure i've met people the odd time the boys dragged me out but i was never able to hold a conversation let alone willingly go up to people. which brings me to now.

the triplets asked if i wanted to come on tour with them but i was in the middle of the semester, the busiest time. so i've spent the past few weeks alone, only leaving when i had to work. it sucks having no one to be able to go do things with, to talk to, and to just be there.

mindlessly clicking through the stories of people i follow, just trying to distract myself from my own thoughts, my screen reveals the faces of the only people i wish i were with right now. my heart aches watching them have the time of their lives being able to explore places they always dreamed of and getting to show their personalities on stage. don't get me wrong i'm beyond happy for them and how successful they’ve become the last few years, but i just wish i were with them. quickly hearting matt’s story of him posing in front of the bean in chicago, i drop my phone beside me and get under my covers, curling up. he seemed so happy being on tour.

i lie there, thoughts wandering, and tears gently flowing as i realize how truly alone i am. my thoughts are disrupted when i feel my bed softly vibrate. lazily rolling over, i grab my phone only to be met with a text from the person i yearned for the most. matt.

heyyy look who’s alive!

where’ve ya been it’s been a while since any of us heard from you?

you doing okay?

unfortunately i've been busy, midterm term time sorry edited

i’m fine

looks like tour’s fun, you look happy

unfortunately? please take time for yourself too you can only do so much if you’re not at your best

you’ll do great on them don’t overwork yourself love

it’s a blast seeing new places, meeting new people, i just wish you were here

shoot i forgot you can see what the other person edited

i was kidding. i’ll try

i wish i was there i miss you but it makes me happy seeing you be successful

we’ll be home before you know it i miss you too

and with that i turn my phone off for the night and bury myself under my covers in a desperate attempt to shut my brain off from thinking things it shouldn't. as the hours passed i tossed more and more not able to fall asleep, stay asleep and get comfortable. peeking at my clock to see the glowing 6:44am, i roll over shoving my face into my pillow and let out an unnecessarily loud groan. seeing no point staying in bed just to not be able to sleep i pad my way to the living room, claiming it my spot for the day. i put on a random season of the office to fill the silence and loneliness that i've sadly become used to. having seen the office far too many times, it's become a comfort background show, making it easy for me to fall asleep.

i accidentally ordered a package to your house from the last time you used my amazon prime to order something. it says it’s been delivered could you just put it aside for me? have a good day

staring at my phone i reread matt's text a few times, my mind still fuzzy and confused thanks to my lack of sleep. finally understanding it after the 5th time, i wrap my blanket around my body and trudge over to the door to pick it up. opening the door and checking the ground for a package i'm met with beat up air forces instead. startled, my head whips just to confirm it's who i thought it was.

matt.

all the loneliness, emptiness, sadness, yearning to see you hit me at once, a wave of tears overcame me as i engulf you in a hug nearly sending you and i to the floor. no words have been spoken, there's no need to. i immediately bury my head into your chest, your one hand coming to cradle my head as the other holds me securely to your body. we stay like this for a few minutes before you slightly pull away grabbing my hands and placing them around your neck, sneaking a quick peck to my cheek as you do so. your hands snake around my waist and gently lift me, bringing both of us into my house. closing the front door we make our way to the living room sitting on the couch turning to face each other.

god i missed you. today was our last day of tour but we were gonna stay there and explore the city for a few days but i couldn’t wait any longer i needed to see you. i was worried about you and couldn't bare the thought of being away for another second.

i missed you more. things haven’t been right since you guys left

like what?

it feels stupid to say out loud but ive felt so alone. like i have no one other than you guys and that makes me feel so pathetic that i rely on you guys so much. i haven't been able to sleep that much my mind just won't shut up i kept thinking about you guys and worrying about something bad happening to you it's stupid i know. heavily sighing i roughly wipe my face drying the tears that i tried so desperately to not let fall.

hey what did we talk about? every thought and feeling is valid they’re not stupid don’t say that.

you stand and offer me your hand and lead me to my room where we crawl into bed. you pull me as close to you as you possibly can. my head on your chest with my arm loosely draped across your body, your cotton shirt carelessly balled up in my hand. your arms wrapped around my torso like your life depended on it. god i missed this

i’m here now okay? everything’s okay, i’m okay, my brothers are okay, nothing happened to us. we’re not going anywhere for a while and when we do your coming with us. and don’t try and say you won’t be able to because of school, you’re coming no matter what. i can’t go that long without you, nothings the same

i won’t put up a fight i don’t want to do this again this was horrible being alone for so long. i missed being in your arms, feeling like nothing bad will ever happen because i have you here

as you place a gentle kiss to the top of my head a comfortable silence falls over us and we bask in this moment of being in each others arms again. my eyes grow heavy but my body is still fighting sleep like it has for the past few weeks

you can sleep now i’m here i’m not going anywhere i promise. i love you so much sweet girl

with the hushed tone of your voice and gentle pecks on my forehead, i feel my body grow heavier with sleep. i blindly reach my hand around searching for yours which you seem to pick up on what i wanted, placing your hand on mine and give it a squeeze once and a while letting me know you're right there.

goodnight sweet girl. i’m right here

taglist: @antisocialties @iluvmatt @dwntwn-strnlo @fake-coolbeans @opheliaofficial07 @angelcake-222 @oneirophobic @strniolo @lollibumblebee @ssturniolo @20nugs

(i can’t remember who it was but i saw someone color coded the dialogue and that makes it so much easier to read so shoutout to you if it was you)

[beesfairlyland]

Hello babies!!!💗

Soo i wanted to update you guys about the tapes I've been listening to by @adambja. They've been an holy grail for my journey!!

Soo let's start with the I AM IN CONTROL TAPE(⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

I couldn't listen to it regularly for a week but i listened as much as i could!

Day 1:- I listened to it for like 2 hrs sat in peace and focused on the affirmations. I felt good ...and tbh those audible affirmations make you feel already in control.

Day 2:- Listened for like 1.5 hrs. I felt good while listening but some doubts started to come on surface. But i comforted myself telling that these are just thoughts and i have to let them go now.

Day 3:- I tested out how much am i in control😏. When i sleep for late my aunts wake me up saying it's late. So in the morning when i woke up slightly. I just said they won't say me anything and I'll sleep for however long i can and guess whatt?? No one disturbed me at all and it was the first time😭 i didn't get disturbed! I listened for like an hour.

Day 4:- i Manifested some food that i was craving...first time i Manifested some food tbh😭 i started to gain soo much of confidence i swear im loving it and im in love with adamja!!😭💗

Day 5:- soo we were going to a party and our plan to go got cancelled. I was like no we'll go....I kid you not the very next second my brother came and told us to get ready🤭

I kept listening to the tape on and off till self concept tape came. I didn't listen to it with any intention tbh i just used it for fun with zero expectations. My confidence literally sky rocketed!!😭 I felt soo much in control. All of my intrusive thoughts literally started disappearing. Then came the self concept tape...it was just for three days but I swear the way it changed my thoughts i was shocked!

SELF CONCEPT tape review (⁠•⁠‿⁠•⁠)

I listened to it for 3 hrs for 3 days ... didn't listen it overnight coz im a light sleeper and can't sleep with something playing in the background. This tape is GOLD.

Day 1:- I had a mental breakdown the morning.... literally cried for hrs even tho in my head i was affirming im okay and everything's alright 💀my aunts fucking my head for like 2 3 days. And then came the tape and omgg the moment i started to listen to it.... first of all hearing those affirmations make you soo powerful and then the secret benefits she puts idk i felt soo much at peace and thoughts like "it's all just an illusion....this all doesn't even matter why to cry over it" started coming.

Day 2:- when i woke up i was soo much at peace even tho yesterday was shit for me. And i just decided i want peace. Haven't been this much peace in my house from past 2 3 yrs😭 and oh boy i felt soo detached from the 3d. I was soo happy.

Day 3:- i completely detached from the 3d. Nothing triggered me. And my circumstances don't even matter anymore. All of my desires felt soo natural and i completely detached from the void. I didn't even wavered not at all. Zero doubts. Im completely living in my 4d naturally I don't have to remind myself anymore about fulfilling myself...i a already in the state and i don't feel like doing anything to get my desires. And i just manifested my wifi working properly just by intention! And now ik I'll wake up in the void any time soon!😭 I don't even feel much excited now ... feels like it is a fact already. I've Never felt this much at peace ever!!

I swear guyss these tapes are soo good...god knows how powerful her paid tapes are😭 and ppl who say these are JUST TAPES....NOO THESE ARE SOME MFING HELLA POWERFUL TAPES!! She do have cheaper self concept and void tape too...go for it!! And if you can't then listen to the free tapess!!😭😭 Those are effective....aff.

And if you come at me saying im supporting those high priced tapes and advertising her tapes.

NOO I AM NOT ADVERTISING.... it's my experience try them out yourself and then say something and if she's pricing them that much ofcc it must be having some real powerful stuff(benefits) in it!! No one's forcing you too buy the tapes ....try the free ones!! And i am one of those person who never got any results from subliminals. Soo im soo happy i found these tapes!😭💗

And in the end i really really really wanna thank @adambja for providing us these tapes🫶🏻💗 you are soo kind!! i am soo grateful for having you as my mutual. And we appreciate you soo much for your hardwork. Don't let the hate and mean comments let you down. There are many ppl here who adore you soo much. We all are glad to be a part of the CULT(as haters say lol😭).

-love, bee💗✨