#after writing this i realized i needed to make the edit for the feb prompt lmaoo i am struggling so hard right nowwwww

[kaygom]

Hesitation

@themistypewriter January Monthly Prompt. Went with the Midnight Confessions prompt.

Synopsis: It's almost midnight. It's almost the new year. A whole new year that Luke and Rosa will be able to create brand new memories together. However, he's in a dilemma. Does he want to keep his prognosis a secret or finally come clean?

Pairing: Luke x Rosa

WC: 2471

Author's Note: I hit really bad writer's block.. If I didn't have a writing buddy to help keep me accountable, this probably wouldn't have been written.. I am struggling so hard to discipline myself to write right now. I am putting most of the blame on work and how it mentally exhausts me every single day. I don't like being an adult with a 9 to 5 job tbqh. I tried my hardest and I am still iffy on the outcome, but I hope you all like it.

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Despite it being cold, Rosa had the door leading to her balcony wide open. She ran back into the house, her eyes sparkling like the stars outside. “Luke! Luke! It’s almost midnight! The fireworks show is going to start soon!” She exclaimed with excitement in her voice. She squealed before she disappeared back out onto her balcony. Luke went to grab his jacket at the entrance and shrugged in his arms. He sighed when he heard the familiar noise of his pills shaking around in its container. A small container that carried a burden much heavier than its contents.

Before walking to the balcony he grabbed the matching scarves on the hook. The closer he got to the door, the colder it got and it made a shiver travel down his back. From behind, he gently tossed the garment around her neck. She jumped a little out of surprise, then a giggle followed. “Thank you, Luke.”

He watched her from the corner of his eyes as he stepped beside her. He wrapped the scarf around his neck and buried his nose into the warm fabric. “How many minutes until midnight?” He asked her, his voice muffled by the scarf.

Rosa’s face lit up when she lifted her phone up briefly. “Eight more minutes.” She put her phone back into her pocket and rubbed her gloved hands together. “I heard firecrackers going off in the distance, it’s exciting knowing that we are about to enter a new year! We will have a full year ahead of us to spend together~”

Luke smiled a little from her words. 1 whole year. 365 days. 8760 hours. 525,600 minutes. Countless memories. It’s all he could ever ask for. But that only meant one thing. Each day, hour, and minute that passes counts down to how much time he has left to spend by Rosa’s side. Just like how they are counting down to the new year.

“Oh!” Rosa’s quip pulled Luke out of his head and snapped him back into reality. “I forgot about the noisemakers that I bought on my way home the other day. I’ll be right back!”

Luke’s eyes followed Rosa back into her apartment. “I wish I could stay by your side forever.” He spoke out loud. He yearned for a life that they could live together forever, but with a lack of a cure for his illness, forever is out of reach.

He leaned against the railing and stared up at the sky. He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. His ears picked up on Rosa’s returning footsteps, but he kept his eyes closed.

“Luke? Everything okay? Sleep? We have about five minutes left. We can go to sleep soon.” She said to him, concern laced in her voice.

He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m fine, don’t worry. The cold is enough to keep me up.”

Rosa nodded then handed him a noisemaker. She placed the other in her mouth and blew into it, the squawk it made loud between them. They shared a laugh before Luke did the same thing. They continued to make more noise as midnight drew closer.

“Luke, just a few more seconds before the new year!” R

Rosa clapped her hands together and her voice gradually grew louder as they were reaching midnight.

“Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven!”

I have to tell her!

“Six! Five! Four!” Their voices grew in volume as it got closer to the new year.

That’s no way to start a brand new year! Luke fought with himself.

“Three! TWO!” Rosa was hopping in her spot in excitement.

She looks so beautiful right now with that smile. I can’t ruin the night.

“ONE! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” They both yelled at the top of their lungs. Rosa raised the noisemaker in her hand up to her lips and blew into it, a harsh squawk sound filling the air around them.

The fireworks off to the distance lit up the sky and Luke wrapped a hand around Rosa’s back and pulled her closer to him. She blew into the noisemaker again and he laughed a little. He pressed a kiss on her temple. “Happy New Year, Rosa.” He whispered.

Rosa twisted between his body and his arm to face him. Their faces were mere inches apart. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes caught the lights of the fireworks still going off behind her. Luke took in this sight, wanting to engrave into his memory forever. “Happy New Year, Luke.” She responded to him. As she spoke, her breath turned into mist and it swirled between them.

Luke gulped then he leaned forward, closing in the distance between them. Rosa’s eyes fluttered close and he went for it. He pressed his lips against hers. The embrace is tender and warm. She reciprocated the kiss. It made Luke’s cheek catch on fire. He never thought he’d be able to share a new year’s kiss with the love of his life. When they pulled apart, they kept their foreheads pressed together. Their breaths were ragged. Tell her already!! He yelled at himself in his head.

“Rosa..” Luke whispered as he pulled back from his girlfriend.

She peered up at him, her eyes curious. “Hm?”

He dug his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. “I really need to tell you something. I don’t think it's fair to you if I continue to keep this from you anymore..”

Luke watched as she tilted her head, wondering what he could possibly say. He sucked in a deep breath, but then ended up in a coughing fit when the cold air dried out his throat.

“Luke, are you okay?!” Rosa stepped closer to him, her voice full of concern.

He held up a hand and nodded his head. Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes and he continued to cough for a few more passing moments. When he finally got himself to stop coughing, he pounded his chest with his fist lightly. He cleared his throat then gathered his composure back.

Rosa’s eyes were still filled with concern and he felt his heart break a little. How could I tell her? She is going to be overcome with more worry than she is now.. He gazed into her eyes then finally prepared himself to say what he’s been needing to tell her all night.

“I’m dying.” He said outright, no sugar coat.

Rosa blinked a few times before she leaned forward. “Pardon? Did I hear you right?” She asked him. “Did you just say you’re dying?”

Luke grabbed her hand. “I think this will be better to talk about inside..” He suggested with a frown on his lips.

When he tugged on her hand gently, she remained frozen in her spot. “Luke Pearce, did you really say that you are dying?” She repeated her question, but this time it stung because he could have sworn he heard a hint of anger within her words.

He released Rosa’s hand and it fell back to her side. “Yes..” He finally answered, “I don’t have as much time left by your side..” He confessed. Luke wasn’t able to hold his gaze because of the guilt bubbling inside of him. He couldn’t bear seeing Rosa’s face distort from surprise then sadness.

“This has got to be some kind of joke!” Her voice rose in disbelief.

Luke moved his eyes back over to Rosa’s face and her eyes were searching his face. “You’re kidding, right?!” She stepped closer to him then grabbed onto the edge of his jacket. “Luke, say something!” She requested with desperation.

“I-I’m sorry.. I didn’t want to start off the new year like this, but it was now or never..” He brought himself to muster out.

Suddenly, Rosa’s knees gave out from beneath her. “R-Rosa!” Luke reacted with haste to catch her from collapsing forward. His hands had an iron-grip on her arms. “Rosa..” It didn’t seem like she was going to move from her spot so he took it upon himself to bring her back inside. He let go of her arms and he bent down to slide one arm at the back of her knees and his other hooked around her shoulders. With ease, he lifted her up off the cold balcony floor.

Luke carefully walked through the small entry. He walked to her couch and slowly sat her down. He went back to the door to close it before settling in the seat beside her. He rubbed his hands against his jeans then stole a glance of her. Her eyes were distant as she stared at her coffee table.

“Ro–”

“How–”

The both of them spoke up at the same time, then both fell quiet when they realized they were going to speak over each other.

“No, you go first..” Luke said to her.

“How much longer do you have left?” Rosa’s voice cracked halfway through her question.

Luke’s heart wrenched in his chest. He swallowed thickly then answered, “I have about 2 years and 10 months left..”

“When? When did you find out that you were dying?” Rosa continued her interrogation and he wasn’t going to stop her because she deserved to finally know the truth.

“I–Uhm, well I’ve known for quite awhile now.. When I left there wasn’t any super secret mission that kept me away from Stellis.. When I left for university, I found myself in a predicament.. I ended up on a case that landed me working for the NSB.. That’s where I gained most of my education from. Which you already knew..” He bit his lip then sighed. “But I ended up on a mission and injuries were obtained. But the medicine me and my colleagues received during treatment had been lethal.. Most of my colleagues didn’t make it, but I did..”

Rosa remained silent as she tried to take in Luke’s story.

“Aaron said I probably would have died on the operating table.. But I vividly remember seeing you while I was under the anesthesia. Had it not seen you in my unconscious mind, I wouldn’t have been pulled back to live just a little bit longer. Th-That’s why I finally made the decision to see you again.. I just couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you again and telling you a proper goodbye before leaving this Earth…” He rubbed a hand along the side of his neck.

“Are you…or Aaron at least actively trying to find a cure for your illness?” Rosa asked. He could tell she was in denial of the truth.

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “I was advised to just live out my life.. Aaron has been looking for treatments. But he was only able to buy me an extra two months..”

He ran a hand through his hair and let out another sigh. “He suggested that I try to ask Marius for access to his resources within Pax Pharmaceuticals. But I’m not sure if I have the gull to even ask for such a huge favor. I’ve only known Marius for a few months because of NXX..”

Rosa scooted closer to Luke and took his hand into hers. She laced their fingers together and squeezed his hand. The warmth and softness of her hand kept him grounded. “I just couldn’t keep this a secret from you anymore.. Aaron suggested I finally tell you because he said it’d be best to tell you now before the truth came out and you didn’t find out from me.”

“Who else knows?” Rosa peered up at him.

“Other than people I worked with in the NSB and Aaron? No one. I think Aaron only gave me that warning as a threat to tell the truth myself or he was going to do it for me..”

“I can’t believe you decided to keep this from me though. We’re best friends, Luke..” Rosa reminded him.

Luke sighed. “I know.. I didn’t know when would be a good time to tell you. I was scared of ruining the good time that we were experiencing since being reunited.”

“But we shouldn’t have to hide such secrets from each other.” Rosa’s voice started to crack as she spoke, getting choked up.

“I wasn’t going to tell you the moment after I ran into you again. Wouldn’t that have been the most outrageous way to greet you after being separated for so long?” Luke turned his body to look at her, their hands still tangled together.

“Could you imagine if I walked up to you and said: “Hello, Rosa. It’s nice to see you again. By the way, I am dying and I have three years and two months left to live!!” That would have been the most heartless thing I could have done. I wanted to ease back into your life and finally pursue you like how I have always wanted while growing up.. I wanted it to be a natural occurrence. Then I would finally reveal the truth. Which I did..” Luke let go of her hand halfway through his tangent then ran both of his hands fervorously through his hair. “I apologize, Rosa. I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to tell you..” He hung his head down with guilt.

A few silent seconds passed between them, then Rosa placed her hand on the back of his head. Her hand trailed down to his cheek and she grazed her thumb against his cheek. “Thank you for telling me..” She whispered, her voice thick with sadness.

He finally looked back up and their eyes met. Hers were full of tears and when she blinked, they streamed down her cheeks. Luke couldn’t hold back his tears after seeing Rosa cry. He reached out both of his hands and cupped her face between them. He used his thumbs to wipe away her tears. He leaned forward to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry, Rosa.”

She just smiled sadly at him through her tears.

Luke knew that she wouldn’t easily forgive him and he respected her decision. He slid his hands away from her face and placed them on his lap.

“I think I am going to drink the champagne then call it a night..” Rosa spoke softly as she stood up to walk to the kitchen.

“O-oh, okay..” Luke stayed in his seat, rubbing his hands roughly against his face. He inhaled a deep breath, his hands glued to his face.

Rosa’s footsteps approached him and he peered up at her. She offered him a glass of champagne. Luke took the flute from her and they tapped their flutes against each other’s. They let the solemn air linger between them as they spent the rest of their night finishing up the last of the champagne before retreating into Rosa’s room to sleep.

[kaitlynpcallmebeepme]

The Package

The Package

Gif credit goes to the owner. NOT ME. @thegayfleet I think.

(Tom Holland x Reader)

Summary: Being in a long distance relationship is as difficult as it sounds, but Tom never fails to show you how much you mean to him.

Prompt: “I could kiss you right now.”

Warning: Fluff to the ends of the earth, description of bruises, a few swear words, one mention of some sexy clothing.

A/N: This is my first piece of writing ever. Constructive criticism is encouraged in comments. This is also for @lovelyspidey   and @thelazypangolin ‘s February Writing Challenge. Fluff prompt 8: “I could kiss you right now!” Also, if there are any warnings I missed, please tell me. I also based the campus and the dorm layout off of my own college. I kinda went overboard with the gift box and rushed the ending, but you learn as you go. If the links work, you can see the items I’m referring too by clicking on the underlined stuff. REQUESTS are OPEN, and asks are open if you want to talk. BTW the bruises are my arms every Monday night after cymbal practice (it’s an 8 month long try out process). And I KNOW Valentine’s day was weeks ago, but college is hard, so bite me. Italics is Y/N’s thoughts.

Feb 14, 2019. 6:00 p.m. EST

First entering your dorm room since 10 a.m. Not ideal, yes, but you didn’t have to leave for the rest of the night. The weight the day brought upon you showed in your slouched posture as you entered your single room. Pros: getting a single in an all-girls dorm on central campus your freshman year was very lucky. Cons: You had no friends and the nursing building was a 20-minute walk away at least every day (except every other Friday). You unzipped your boots before you stepped too far on the rug and got it wet (unlike your mom). You decided against turning your radiator on in the middle of February since the warm air and peaceful atmosphere made you sleepy and you needed to get some work done.

By the middle of February, you meant Valentine’s Day. It has never been a bother to you before.  Your parents and friends always gave you chocolate, once you got a marvel mug from your parents, and you were relatively fine.  Also, you were a more of an introvert, never dated before, and was very socially shy.  Since you had no one to spend it with, you always viewed Valentine’s day as a self-love day. None of your close friends ever dated before so there was no one to get jealous over, and as you said before you didn’t have friends at college, so it was fine. That was until about 7 months ago. Because 7 months ago is when you got asked out by none other than Tom FREAKING Holland.  

You two had met in a karaoke bar during comic con season just after you graduated high school, but that’s a story for another time. After some nerves were shattered and some bad singing of Bohemian Rhapsody happened, he asked you (stuttering in the process) for your number at the end of the night.

You two had only met the other’s family over face time a couple of times. It was hard trying to meet up with Tom’s schedule being so busy with a bunch of different time zones and you having 18 credit classes to worry about. You don’t know if your family knew he was Spider-man. You know your Dad knew that Spider-man was Peter Parker, but you’re pretty sure he has not seen any MCU movies. You’re confident that the topic of occupations will come up sooner or later.  Tom was staying in the UK for a few weeks before doing more promoting and filming, so you had to call him as soon as you got home from clinicals because it wouldn’t be Valentine’s day in the UK for much longer. 

You opened your laptop that was still on your desk and tried to call the Holland Family. You honestly loved all of them as the brothers you never had.  You just hoped they saw you as the sister they never had. The screen soon popped with your puppy-faced boyfriend. “Hey darling. You just get home?”

“Yeah. I swear to Got it’s snowed more in the past few weeks than it has in all of December. Not much went on today. We helped them set up snacks and played Legos with them.” The clinical you had was working with children after school in a lower income neighborhood. It was safe and decent and that’s all you could ask for. You stood up to get something from the shelf above your desk, revealing your navy blue scrub pants to the camera that had the Grey’s Anatomy logo on it.  You could hear the snicker in his voice as you sat back down.

“Damn you look sexy.” This made you blush even redder than your cheeks were already. Any of his compliments had this effect on you, but he never called you sexy.

“I’m wearing scrub pants. It’s like LITERALLY the most unflattering thing you could pick.”

“You look sexy to me in anything” You’re pretty sure there’s now no difference in a rose and your cheek color right now.

“And even sexier in nothing. Oww!” You couldn’t see what happened until Tom turned the camera to reveal Harry sitting across the table doing something on his computer (probably editing some more photos) while Sam, Harrison, and Paddy were in the background by the kitchen counter. You gave them a wave which they kindly returned.

“Happy Birthday boys.”

“Thank you.” the curly redhead said. You were getting better at telling the twins apart. Harry was the curly redhead often doing anything with pictures. Sam had straighter hair that was slightly darker. They were both equally sweet, as were all of the Hollands.

“Kinda late to be saying that now isn’t it?” Sam snickers back.

“It’s late over there, but it’s early evening here.”

“Yeah, but we were born here, so.” He had you there.

“I got it in before midnight, so it still counts.” You loved all the boys. Their brotherly relationship, as tiring as it may be, always brought a smile to your face.

“The marching cymbals not give you too many bruises this time babe?” That’s when the other boys came from the counter to hover over Tom’s shoulder. You rolled up your left sleeve a little bit more to reveal a collage of red, blue, green, purple, and brown bruises above your elbow. They all cringed at the sight of them.

“The purple ones are where I pinched a blood vessel. The bruises on my abdomen don’t show as much, but they still are sore. Can I open the package you sent me now?” It was getting harder to hide your relationship from your parents, especially when Tom sends a Valentine’s package.

“Sure love. But first, there’s something at the front door for you.” It wasn’t difficult to realize that Tom had a smirk on his face and was hiding something.

“Okaay… I’ll be back.” You left your laptop open, grabbed your key cards, a jacket, your wallet, just in case, put on your flipflops and went to the front door of your building. Going down the three flights of stairs with sore muscles was still a challenge. When you finally made it to the front door, there stood a man from Panera Bread with your name on a delivery bag. He told you it was paid for over the phone, but you wanted to make sure it was Tom who ordered it and it wasn’t someone trying to poison you (that’s just where your mind went).

“Did you order this Tom?” Coming back into view of the webcam, you could see a proud smile paint his chiseled face.

“Yeah. You...you told me that this would be your perfect single Valentine’s Day...so.” You didn’t remember when you mentioned your perfect single Valentine’s day, but you were intrigued to see if he remembered what you said. You opened the bag to find White Cheddar Macaroni and the Bread Bowl Chicken Noodle Soup. Two of your favorite dishes. You were still in a state of shock, you barely registered what was happening on the other end. “Open the package.” You opened the box and opened a smaller styrofoam container. It had some ice and a Rocky Mountain Caramel Apple, one of your favorite treats that you only got around Christmas. The air had been sucked from your lungs as you kept a big toothy grin on. That was your perfect single Valentine’s day, Panera Bread and a caramel apple.

You opened the Jaffa Cakes, which Tom knows you love, and began to eat those as you went through the rest of the box. The man knows you love your fandoms. The rest of the box consisted of a Doctor Who cardigan, Shuri’s bracelet, a Black Panther Umbrella, a Captain Marvel tank top, a Supernatural pocket watch (because pocket watches are awesome), a Supernatural Shirt, and of course a Spider-Man hoodie. (The links weren’t working, so here https://docs.google.com/document/d/1i0PR1zfp4cFV26_8aHyNEM3yf5eY0K80c2RdQuoKBF8/edit?usp=sharing)

There were only two things left and you thought you couldn’t geek and freak out anymore. There was a long thin box with the words ‘Don’t Open This On Camera’ written on it. “There should be one more in there.” You guessed he saw the puzzled look on your face and decided to push what you were thinking aside for the moment.

The last one was a small cube box and you didn’t think anything of it until you saw the other boys enter the camera frame again, all staring at you. You hesitantly opened the small cube to reveal a navy blue felt box. You could tell your vision was already getting blurry with tears and you tried to blink them back. It’s not that you were afraid of crying in front of the boys, you were afraid you were overreacting and it would turn out to be a prank, like a ring pop in the box or something. You popped the box open and what lay inside was simple, but a beautiful rose gold ring. One thread was rose gold and the other was covered in small white diamonds and the threads intertwined to infinity. The diamonds captured the light like the freshly fallen snow that was outside.

By now the tears were flowing freely, you had never been so open with anyone about your likes except your friends, but none of them ever bought you something this meaningful. “It’s uh promise ring.” You had completely ignored the other presence in the room at this point. You stared back into those milk chocolate eyes you fell in love with while your cheeks were stained with tears. “I know it’s early…, but I want you to be mine one day...if you’ll have me that is.” He avoided your eyes while trying to get the words out. You’ve never seen him this nervous.

You gently slid the ring out of the box and on to your left ring finger. How did he get the size perfectly?  “I love it Tom and I love you. Jeez, I could kiss you right now.” He let out a chuckle and you could listen to that sweet melody all day. You lent forward and gave the camera a kiss. No matter how cheesy it was, you kissed him again and again. “Ok, now I definitely have to tell my parents about you. It wouldn’t be easy to lie my way out of this otherwise.”

“What did you tell your parents about me?”

“Well, I couldn’t straight up say I’m dating Spider-Man.” This gave a laugh from Tom and the boys in the background, who you assumed were still listening in. “I said I met someone a while back who is amazing, humble, and presentable in every way. We’ve been dating, but he understands that my classes come first and we only meet up a few times a month.”

“That’s what I told them?”

“It’s not a complete lie.” You say through your teeth.

“You didn’t lie. You just avoided certain truths to manipulate them.” That devilish smile was on his face that told you he was impressed with himself.

“STOP QUOTING SUPERNATURAL AGAINST ME!” This left you both in a fit of giggles for a while longer. It was late in the UK and you had to get homework done, so you said bye to the boys, Nikki and Dom, and one more to Tessa and Tom before kissing him through the screen again.

You started to put away the package and gifts before you remembered the Do Not Open Me package. You take out the long thin box and open it. It’s a single rose. Aww. He remembered my love for Beauty and the Beast. Wait… Why would a rose be in a box? You inspected the rose more carefully and gently graced your fingertips over it. It felt lacy. You started to pull at the petals until the whole rose came out.

“That little shit. Really Tom, sexy lingerie .” You smirked to yourself as you held it up. You knew you had to get him back somehow.

Taglist: @lovelyspidey and @thelazypangolin for their February Writing Challenge. I don’t really have a tag list at the moment, but I’m tagging @sippin-my-milky-tea because I made an effort to tell the twins apart. Also, @lamptracker is my main inspiration, so thanks! Send me an ask if you want to be part of the tag list.

[nntodayblog]

A (Gross) Girl’s Guide To Personal Hygiene

Tallulah Pomeroy

400

I am a “gross girl,” and I’ve identified as such for as long as I can remember.

In part, I have my mother to thank. Although she dutifully applies a thick layer of lipstick before any and all activities, including bath time, she also adheres to the cardinal toilet flushing rule “If it’s yellow, let it mellow” and counts quickly flitting her wrist under a running faucet as washing her hands.

For my sisters and I, hygienic transgressions have always been badges of honor. When we were younger, we’d compete to see who could go the longest without showering, cackling together while we discussed which body parts itched the most. We built toilet paper castles in the mellow bowls our mother left behind, piling the paper like cotton clouds in the middle of a urine-filled moat.

As I got older, I remained gross.

During my freshman year of college, I wore the same leggings every day, deodorizing the crotch instead of washing them properly. My senior year, rather than walking all the way to the downstairs bathroom in my apartment, I took to peeing in a mason jar on my bedroom floor. When spillage occurred, I’d wipe it up with a rogue bit of laundry.

There are others like me, I know. I’ve seen evidence in listicles across the web. There’s BuzzFeed’s “49 Gross Things Most Girls Secretly Enjoy,” which includes “running your fingers through your pubes in a nonsexual way.” Bustle’s “19 Gross Things All Women Do in Private (Or At Least When We Think No One’s Watching)” exalts the fun of “examining your panty crust like you’re a scientist.” Cosmopolitan’s “13 Super-Gross Things Women Do That Men Don’t Know About” takes the cake with a description of cleaning yourself after a period-poop combo ― “the good ole PB&J wipe!”

The headlines make plain the fact that countless women indulge their grossest urges out of curiosity, laziness and pure fascination. Yet their bodily offenses, so counter to the image of a pristine and clean young lady reflected in etiquette books and American Girl Doll catalogues, are often kept secret ― or, at the very least, outside the purview of men.

Tallulah Pomeroy

Enter A Girl’s Guide to Personal Hygiene, a picture book illustrated by Bristol-based artist Tallulah Pomeroy that’s full of the kinds of gross girl confessions that trump even my and my sisters’ rituals.

Divided into chapters including "Picking & Squeezing," "Nooks & Crannies," "Periods," and "Tasty Snacks," Pomeroy’s book ― released on Feb. 13 by Soft Skull Press ― features anonymously submitted anecdotes detailing the nasty shit women do behind closed doors, from smelling their dirty underwear to free-bleeding in their pants.

The 112-page paperback is a celebration of everything feminine and dirty ― an homage to the women with a surplus of earwax, an abundance of gray pubes and far too many crimson-stained articles of clothing.

Pomeroy, the in-house illustrator at Catapult, started the project over two years ago. Inspiration struck after she overheard two women gossiping about a friend who’d drunkenly taken a shit in the sink. Utterly scandalized, they declared that anyone who could do such a thing was “not a girl.” This got Pomeroy, 25, thinking: Which of her own private habits would disqualify her from girlhood?

Around the same time, Pomeroy’s then-boyfriend lent her Charlotte Roche’s 2008 book Wetlands, which chronicles a sexually liberated and unabashedly grotesque 18-year-old’s hospital stint recovering from a botched ass shaving accident. No dirty details are spared as the protagonist, with time on her hands, takes stock of her sexual exploits and corporeal habits. “I love it when sperm dries on my skin, when it crusts and flakes off,” reads one relatively tame line.

Not enough for you? Here’s more (obviously NSFW):

When I jerk somebody off, I always make sure that some cum gets on my hand. I run my fingers through it and let it dry under my long nails. That way, later in the day, I can reminisce about my good fuck partner by biting my nails and getting bits of the hardened cum to play with in my mouth; I chew on it and, after tasting it and letting it slowly dissolve, I swallow it. It’s an intention I’m very proud of: the memorable sex bon-bon.

These are the sorts of passages that titillate a segment of readers and nauseate the rest. Pomeroy counts herself among the former group, enraptured by Roche’s ability to treat the body as both a site of sexual pleasure and grotesque glory. She endeavored to do the same with A Girl’s Guide to Personal Hygiene.

“She was so unashamed to the point of being proud,” Pomeroy said of the primary Wetlands character, Helen. “She loves that she’s gross. I think that’s what I identified with the most ― that I could feel positive about these things rather than ashamed of them.”

Tallulah Pomeroy

This combination of events ― reading Wetlands and overhearing the shit-in-the-sink story ― ultimately prompted Pomeroy to forge a space where women could share the nitty-gritty details of their nasty pastimes. In 2016 she created a private Facebook group cheekily titled “A Girl’s Guide to Personal Hygiene” and invited all her female friends to join. Before long, friends invited friends and the group went, as Pomeroy described, “mental.”

Right away, stories started rolling in, each woman playfully trying to out-gross the last. Pomeroy even created a submission form so some members could share their funkiest exploits anonymously if they so desired. The confessions achieved Roche-levels of nastiness. “I like to pick my nose while I masturbate. It helps,” one woman wrote. “I like to smell the contents of my Mooncup because someone once told me theirs smelled like beef,” wrote another.

Women even started using the Facebook group to seek advice about personal matters like IUD insertion and achieving multiple orgasms. It quickly became clear to Pomeroy that the space she carved out wasn’t just something women wanted ― it was something they needed.

From the beginning, Pomeroy said she had dreams of turning the confessions into a book ― an ironic etiquette guide that would “take the piss out of the idea that girls should be hygienic.” She had her doubts, though. Beyond a sense of gratification, the Facebook group had also awakened in Pomeroy a bubbling sense of humiliation she hadn’t even realized she possessed.

“A voice of shame,” she explained. “The voice you’ve heard since you were a child saying your body is dirty. Saying that women are clean and beautiful and don’t squeeze their spots.”

In an essay for The Atlantic, writer Leslie Jamison discussed a similar kind of humiliation that came with writing about matters of the flesh. “A certain shame,” she wrote, “like a faint body odor I couldn’t smell because it was mine: There was too much body, and this too-much-body risked banality and melodrama at once.”

Roche encountered it, too. Despite the fact that Wetlands became a cult obsession ― it was the best-selling book in the world in March of 2008, and was eventually translated from its native German into 27 languages ― some critics took issue with what they categorized as the novel’s cheap thrills, suggesting Roche’s work was not so much pioneering as “faux-outrageous.” In a 2009 review for The New York Times, Sallie Tisdale lambasted it, calling Roche’s descriptions “banal and repetitive,” her vocabulary “painfully limited.”

Of course, men have long been permitted to discuss their bathroom quirks and sexual secrets. “We’re very familiar with male toilet humor and the stereotype of a stinky man,” Pomeroy said. Yet when a woman wants to laugh about an ingrown hair or a particularly pungent flow she runs the risk of being perceived as “not funny, not moving, not provocative and certainly not titillating,” as The Guardian’s Nicola Barr wrote of Roche back in the day.

Pomeroy calls bullshit on this kind of literary criticism. “It’s much easier to call the book ‘clumsy’ and ‘banal’ than to call yourself a prude,” she said. She thinks Roche’s prose, written from the perspective of a teenager, feels exactly as it should ― intimate, unpretentious and imperfect.

“The language in Wetlands isn’t complicated,” she explained. “It isn’t trying to impress. The form of it is very frank and open and talkative. You feel like she’s right there with you.”

Tallulah Pomeroy

Pomeroy’s nagging voice of doubt didn’t linger for long. With the help of Soft Skull Press, she began compiling some of the standout anecdotes from Facebook into a book and illustrating them. Aside from some minor edits for typos, she preserved the original language of the Facebook group.

“These girls are often saying these things for the first time,” Pomeroy said. “They’ve thought about how they’re going to phrase it. I think it’s important to not make it sound more grand than it is. Let it be earthy.”

Deciding which anecdotes would make the cut was difficult. When it came to a story about a woman who, in advance of a threesome, whipped out her bloody tampon and stored it in a full teapot, which her boyfriend’s mother later discovered, editors assumed the anonymous story was fake. Pomeroy laughed; she actually knew all the people involved in the teapot debacle.

In the final book, juicy stories like this come to life thanks to Pomeroy’s illustrations, gangly line drawings splashed with watercolor that make a woman shitting herself look vaguely cool. Like the book’s language, its images do not attempt to sugarcoat their subject matter. Pomeroy draws clearly the most deliciously vile of moments ― poop emerging from a butt, discharge soaking panties, pus oozing from a zit.

“It’s kind of funny because it runs parallel with the book, me realizing actually I could be myself [in my drawings],” she said. “I didn’t have to clean things up. The drawings are very rough. They’re always the first drafts, that’s how I like it best. If I do multiple drafts, they lose that immediacy, and I wanted the drawings to have a real sense of freshness, in the same way the stories are honest and free. It was a real relief to realize my style is a good style, my own thing that I do is valuable, even if it’s rough and wonky.”

Because many of the book’s confessions were submitted anonymously, Pomeroy isn’t certain how many ― if any ― trans or gender-nonconforming women contributed. “My understanding of the term ‘girls’ refers to anyone who identifies as feminine, regardless of their gender,” she said. “Most of the stories relate to physically female bodies, but not all, there is still the underlying emphasis of pushing at the idea of femininity, which is relevant to trans and cis women alike.”

Pomeroy’s book has received praise from writers including Carmen Maria Machado (Her Body and Other Parties) and Alissa Nutting (Tampa, Made for Love), both of whom fearlessly write the feminine bodily experience into their work. The day it arrived in the HuffPost office, my coworkers and I swarmed around the pink paperback, pointing out which anecdotes we’ve participated in and which were completely baffling. Before long we were swapping our own stories of earwax and butt hair, tales unbeknownst to even our partners.

One of the main messages of the #MeToo movement currently sweeping our culture is that there is power in women’s stories. The subtext, however, is that to be taken seriously, these stories often revolve around personal experiences of trauma and pain, painstakingly rehashed to convince the public of a truth they should already have accepted.

“It’s really important to share these silly stories, too,” Pomeroy said. “They don’t diminish the power of the more serious ones. They still affirm that women’s bodies are our own.”

Perhaps the right to pop your own zits is not the ultimate feminist crusade of our time. But Pomeroy’s gross girl gang isn’t just stirring up shit for the fun of it. They are rebelling against long-held beliefs that women’s bodies are shameful, dirty and obscene ― at least without proper primping and powdering. They’re giving a glimpse into their hairiest, smelliest, stickiest parts in solidarity with women who just want to feel comfortable in their own skin.

“We’re not created for someone else’s pleasure,” Pomeroy said. “Our bodies aren’t for anybody else’s use. I’m not there to be groped and I’m also not there to be told that my body is disgusting or shameful. I think it’s all part of the same thing. If someone is horrified by the idea of girls picking their ingrown hairs then maybe they need to think about what they expect women to be. There might be a problem.”

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BEFORE YOU GO

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11 Period Illustrations That Are All Too Real

Priscilla Frank

Arts & Culture Reporter, HuffPost

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Reference source : A (Gross) Girl’s Guide To Personal Hygiene