#finally feeling some tickle of creativity again after a period of

[moth-whisperer]

Someone gave me this truly terrible bright green shirt for a reason that is known only to them, and I’ve been just wearing it for PJs

Until I woke up this morning like !!!SEPTUM RING BACK PATCH!!!

Need to pick up some interfacing to stiffen it up once I sew the edges I think it’ll be great, now I just need to decide what I wanna put it on

Bonus hoodie brim ornamentation

[imaginativeamateur]

|Period Cramps Collection| [Naruto Uzumaki X Reader] A Method to Ease the Pain

Pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem!Reader

Lying on the couch, you watched the clock’s hands ticking, waiting for the pain to subside so you could go get some water to prevent yourself from vomiting then and there. It was always too much to handle this time every month. The heating pad resting heavily on your stomach was long cooled but you were too nauseous to even bother. And evenings were definitely the worst time for period cramps to come.

“Y/N!” Naruto rang from outside. “Are you home?”

You desperately wanted him to give you some time to rest, it was not that you did not want to see the sunshine, you just did not want him to see you in this state, so vulnerable. You yelled back, “No, I’m not home!” Wait... you just exposed yourself, brilliant Y/N, it must be the cramps that got you off guard.

You sighed again and reached for the blanket. Naruto made his way through your doorway and into the living room of your apartment, “I didn’t see you at our training today, what’s up?”

He stopped when his eyes reached your figure on the couch, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No—argh—,” you cursed under your breath as the pain once again washed over, “I’m just having a really bad stomachache and a little bit nauseous.”

Naruto looked around the room, his glance landed on the bowl of cereal you left half-eaten on the table, “You eat cereal for dinner?”

“It’s from breakfast, I woke up late and I’m too tired to finish it,” you whispered with your eyes closed.

“Do you need me to get you something to eat then?” He took the bowl in his hand and walked to the sink, “I can go get us dinner right after! What do you want to have?”

You honestly did not want to make Naruto run around the village for your period cravings, you shook your head, “I'm not hungry.”

After several minutes, the blonde approached you on the couch and casually sat down next to where your feet were resting, concern present in his voice, “Are you actually fine? You haven't had anything since breakfast.”

“I’m positively sure I’m fine, it’s just the period cramps.”

Naruto’s eye narrowed, he definitely heard this term before, was it from Sakura? Jiraiya? He could not remember. You watched with amusement as his facial expressions changed from pure apprehension to curiosity and finally, a long sigh left his lips.

“Do women always get serious stomachaches during their periods?”

“It depends, they are pretty bad for some people though,” you smiled at your blonde friend, “some can’t even walk because their muscles are all sore.”

“Is your stomach still hurting right now?”

You nodded.

Naruto carefully leaned in, closing the gap between you two, “Y/N, I know a way to ease the pain. But I’m not sure if you want to try.”

You exhaled, the contraction was sharp at this point, and whatever his creative brain could think of, you did not mind giving it a try. “Sure,” your voice was still filled with ambivalence as you softly spoke.

With that, Naruto’s eyes glistened, “The method is called cuddling!”

Your mouth gapped at his words, that was unexpected but you did not object. You felt the cushion sinking as he moved next to you, lying on his side, engulfing you in his warm embrace. Naruto was hugging you, no, he was cuddling you. His breath tickled your cheek as he snuggled his face close to your neck, his hand gently positioned on your lower stomach, rubbing in circles, “Does it feel better now?”

“Ye-yeh, it’s much better, thanks,” you stammered and tried to avert your gaze to the ceiling, not the face inches away from yours, too close, too much to handle.

“Y/N,” his voice then turned serious all of a sudden, which caused you to flinch, “if you allow me to, I would also want to not only be able to do this when you’re on your period.” He grew redder as his voice got quieter after each word to nothing. “No, I meant not on your period… Actually, I wanted to tell you that… I uhm…”

You turned around to face the flustered tomato by your side, waiting for him to continue. Awkwardness filled the silence. Realizing how close you two actually were, you immediately pushed yourself away from him, only to come into contact with his strong arms behind your back. You gasped as he hastily leaned forward, his mouth opened and closed until he was able to form a complete sentence, “You know I like you, Y/N.”

You indeed did know about his feelings and were equally aware of yours, however, you did not want to risk your friendship. But the sincere look in his eyes made you trust your heart. Lowering your gaze, you inaudibly mumbled, “I li-like you, too.”

Naruto released the breath that he did not know he was holding and joyfully laughed, teasing you a bit to brighten up the mood, “Well, now I kinda like Y/N on her period. You usually scold me around and are strong as heck, now you’re a little puddle in my arms!”

You glared at him but your lower abdomen all of a sudden contracted, making you grimace to not let out a whimper. The blonde Ninja gently stroke your back as you dipped your face into his chest with gritted teeth, “You don’t have to be strong every time Y/N, you can be yourself around me. I have your back!”

You melted at his words, hands finding their way to wrap around his back, you had been yearning for this feeling for Kami knew how long.

“Do you need me to do anything?” He whispered after the contraction seemed to have faded away when you relaxed in his embrace.

Now it was time for you to find your revenge for his joke earlier on, you smirked before looking up with puppy eyes, “Please help me heat the heating pad, I want to watch the DVD on the table, I also want some tea and sweets. And Ichiraku’s sounds great for dinner!”

To your surprise, Naruto did not hesitate to push himself up from the couch and tucked you warm under the blanket. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before walking off, not forgetting to give you his bright grin, “Anything for you, love.”

[thefanficmonster]

4+1 Taylor’s short edition

Daniel x Taylor (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor

Summary: The four times Daniel teased Taylor about being short and the one time she got her revenge.

Requested by my platonic spouse @hopeveon Hope you enjoy it bro! (sorry for the wait) Love, Vy ❤

I

There are times in Taylor’s life she wishes she was the high-heels-to-the-store type of person. Maybe then her height wouldn’t hinder her from reaching the top shelves where her favorite cereal is kept.

She’s been standing in front of the raft, glaring the orange box of cereal down as if that way she’ll eventually convince it to fall on its own right into her arms. 

This is one of those ‘I wish I could wear heels without maneuvering around like a baby giraffe’ moments. Not that the heels would help her much considering how high up the shelf is but it’d still give her some level of advantage: she’d be able to reach the shelf below the top one and that’d still be considered a bonus.

“Need help, T?”

Then again, who needs heels when they have a tall boyfriend to snatch up things they can’t.

Taylor flashes him a smile as he turns into the aisle she’s standing in, the shopping cart he’s pushing already containing the items he was assigned to get. “Could you, for the love of God, grab me one of those?” She asks pointing up at the cereal boxes with clear frustration in her movements.

Daniel shoots her a smirk as he parks the cart, “Why don’t you...” Taylor, sensing the oncoming joke at her shortness, opens her mouth to complain but before she can say a single word, she’s lifted up off the ground, earning a yelp from her. “...get it yourself?” Daniel finishes his previously began sentence, holding his girlfriend up so the boxes are within arm’s reach.

When she takes two, he sets her back down on the floor. Just as she’s about to thank him, however, he ruffles her hair, placing a kiss at the top of her head once he does so. “You’re welcome, shorty.”

And just like that, she swallows her gratitude.

II

Taylor’s classes finished earlier than Daniel’s today due to some change in the professors’ schedule. That leaves her here, on a bench in the college park, waiting for her boyfriend since she doesn’t want to break their routine and walk to the dorms on her own, leaving him to do the same. They’ve had very little time for one another as of recent because of the upcoming torturous finals that have them worrying and overworking themselves sick. Walking to the dorms is one thing these upcoming exams can’t take away from them, luckily.

As she types another message to Andrew, promising she’d help him with his essay he’s gotta turn in in two days and has no idea how to even start it, she hears the sound of laughter. Laughter which the person is desperately trying to suppress. She looks up from her phone to see Daniel standing on the path a few feet away, one hand clutching the strap of his bag while the other is balled in a fist and pressed against his lips to prevent the aforementioned laughter from escaping him.

When he notices she’s looking, he does his best to keep his composure and still himself but it’s already too late - it’s all been spotted.

Raising an eyebrow at him, Taylor can’t contain the need to ask what has him cracking up so badly, “Take a breath please. What are you even laughing at?“ Finding himself unable to speak without laughing, he just points to her feet which has her even more confused. She raises an eyebrow at him, looking down at her dangling and swinging feet clad in an old pair of Converse. “That explains nothing.” She says, continuing to watch his movements with an unamused look on her face.

Daniel does as she told him - takes a breath - before he opens his mouth to explain, a smile still stretching at the corners of his lips, “You can’t touch the ground, can you?”

It takes a few moments for the words to register and be processed but she’s quick to catch onto yet another one of his increasingly creative jokes. It’s understood without saying that she’s less than impressed by this joke of his when she gets up and proceeds to speed-walk down the path towards the dorms, leaving Daniel rushing to catch up to her, calling her name while laughing his ass off.

III

This carnival date was entirely her idea, but she’d never admit it, obviously. There’s another truth she’d never admit, this one even more embarrassing in her opinion - she wants to win some stuffed animals so she can decorate her dorm which she’s suddenly decided is incredibly barren.

Daniel had no problem agreeing to the idea of a carnival date, especially not when Taylor agreed to go on the rollercoasters with him. The rides aren’t all that impressive but they are enough to get your adrenaline rushing and he’s prepared to settle for that with the added bonus of the fact that Taylor probably wouldn’t have accompanied him if the rides were impressive by his standards.

After a successful negotiation, Daniel’s spent the short but drawn out walk to the first ride they plan on going on with his arm wrapped Taylor’s shoulders, convincing her there’s nothing to be afraid of and that the ride is perfectly safe.

“It doesn’t even go upside down!“ That’s an argument he uses as though it’ll change anything about Taylor’s feelings on the ride or make her any more enthusiastic about getting on. If it were to go upside down she wouldn’t be anywhere near it let alone on it. “Besides, it’s less than three minutes and I’ll be by your side the whole time, T. Nothing to worry about.“

Taylor, unable to say no to the excitement of her boyfriend, succumbs with an eye-roll, “Fine, but if I puke on you it’s your own fault.”

Lifting his hands up in surrender, he continues guiding her to the entrance of the ride where they make it within less than a minute before the ride starts. However, right as she’s about to step onto the platform, Daniel’s arm gently tugs her back. In response to the unexpected gesture Taylor stops in her tracks, turning her head to give him a confused look. Daniel doesn’t reply verbally, but the grin on his face and the tilt of his head that point to a sign displaying the required height to get on the ride say it all.

“It’s your lucky day.“ He laughs, seeing the frown upon her face as a response to the teasing look in his eyes. Taking hold of her hand he leads her away from the ride stifling laughter at the cute displeased furrow of her brows. “Let’s go get you your stuffed animals.“

IV

“Great game!“ Taylor claps her hands together when she sees Daniel exit he changing rooms following a particularly intense match that ended in a draw, leaving both teams displeased to a certain degree.

Despite the bitter feeling of not having lost but not having won either, Daniel lets a wide smile spread across his face when he sees the excitement in Taylor’s eyes. He knows she’s clueless about more than half the things going on in the field but her support is limitless and unconditional which makes him so incredibly fond of her - even more than he already was.

“Thanks, it could’ve been better though.“ He replies, shrugging as he leans down to give Taylor a hug, “You coming to the party with us?“

Pressing her lips in a thin line when the two pull away, she gives him an apologetic shake of her head, “Sorry, I have an essay to finish and an exam to study for. I hope you have fun though.”

He does an expert job of covering up his displeasure with her absence as to not make her feel guilty about it, “Don’t worry, wish I could help you with it. I mean, I don’t have to go...”

Taylor scoffs, giggling a little bit at the cuteness of the boy standing before her, “Nonsense.” She says with a playful eye roll as she pushes up on her tip toes to place a kiss on his cheek, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Just as she’s about to turn around and walk away, she catches glimpse of the oddly sentimental look in his eyes and the small smile on his lips, lightyears away in comparison to the one he wore previously. “What is it?”

“Nothing.“ He shrugs yet again, “You’re just super cute when you do that.“

Taylor huffs, “You’re lucky you’re tall.”

She was practically asking for it

“Nope, I’m lucky you’re short.“

That earns him a punch to the shoulder before she storms off a frown and a blush on her face. And a smile she’s suppressing.

The Revenge

It’s spring, the smell of the freshly bloomed flowers and trees tickles their nostrils as the couple walk in the park, the sunlight warming their skin. Spring break has never been an exciting time period for either of them. Hell, they didn’t even go home and chose to stay in the dorms instead so they could spend the time they had with each other rather than with their families who’d either bore them to death with awkward questions or make them regret coming back via a different method.

Daniel and Taylor are discussing the movie they just saw, completely unaware of the world around them as they do so. That happens frequently - when they’re in each other’s company, lost in conversation, they often end up forgetting they’re not the only people on this planet. Not the only things either.

“Oh come on, he was so annoying. I like a good villain as much as you do but he was ridiculous.“ Taylor complains, one hand resting above her eyes to shield them from the sunlight in order to be able to look up at Daniel who in return is gazing down at her, head slightly bowed.

“That just makes him cooler - he’s so ridiculous and such an airhead but he’s super intelligent. Did you see what he came up with? That doesn’t say ‘ridiculous’ to me.“ Daniel replies, receiving a frustrated huff from Taylor in return.

“Whatever, he’s still super annoying and no amount of intelligence can change that.“ She persists, frowning as if that’ll emphasize her point better.

Just as Daniel’s about to reply, however, he’s quickly silenced by the smacking of branches against his face. He panics momentarily, caught off-guard by the not painful but still unpleasant impact. But when he hears Taylor’s laughter, he brings himself to open his eyes and stop his arms from flailing around in self-defense of the twiggy branches that he walked into. When he turns to look at Taylor he sees she’s not at all affected by the same affliction, seeing as how her height allows her to pass right under the branches untouched.

“That is what you get! That is what you earned!” She calls back to him as she keeps walking down the path, “You joke about my height, Mother Nature’s gonna punish you.” 

This gets a laugh out of him as well as he jogs to catch up to her, “Hey, I never joke about your height! I just ACKNOWLEDGE it in a playful manner.” He corrects her, looking down hoping for a laugh or something but only receiving a glare in return.

Before another set of branches hits him in the face.

[massivedrickhead]

you’ve done lots of prompts recently with Chloe taking care of Beca could you do one the other way around? Thank you ❤️

Read on AO3

Chloe was tired. Frustrated. Burned out.

She felt like the Bellas and classes for college were taking everything from her, and she was running on empty.

She was feeling almost claustrophobic in the Bellas house, so tried to spend as much time away as she could without raising questions.

The Bellas trusted her to lead them to victory at the Worlds in a few months, and she couldn’t let them down.

They were relying on her, she couldn’t let them know she was cracking.

That she was breaking.

She should have known there was one person who she couldn’t hide this from.

It was late one night when she was sat staring at an almost empty word document on her laptop, her eyes burning with exhaustion, her head throbbing, when she heard a quiet knock at her bedroom door.

“Yeah?” She said, her voice a little rough. She coughed to clear her throat, and turned to see Beca standing in her doorway. “What’s up?”

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah?” Chloe said, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“It’s 2 am,” Beca said. “Not exactly typical Chloe Beale hours.”

Chloe looked at her watch. She hadn’t realised it had gotten so late. “I, uh, must have lost track of time. I’m trying to write this paper but,” she cleared her throat again, “I’m having some trouble.”

Beca stepped further into the room and looked over Chloe’s shoulder at the screen.

“When is it due?” Beca asked.

“Tomorrow,” Chloe said. “Or… today I guess.”

Beca nodded. “Okay,” she said. “What do you need?”

“What do I need?”

“You want water and some aspirin I’m guessing,” Beca said. “Do you want coffee? Maybe a snack?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll be right back,” Beca said, leaving Chloe sitting, her mouth half open mouthed in confusion.

Beca was back in five minutes holding two mugs of coffee, a bottle of water tucked under her arm and a bag of chocolate coated pretzels held between her teeth.

Chloe’s favourite.

Beca placed the mugs on Chloe’s desk, followed by the bottle of water and the pretzels, before digging in her pocket for the strip of aspirin pills.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, worried she was about to cry. She took two aspirin and gulped down half the bottle of water. “How did you know I had a headache?”

Beca shrugged. “You always get headaches when you concentrate too hard.” She sat on Chloe’s bed, her back against the headboard. “Come take a break.”

“Bec I have like eight hours to finish this,” Chloe said.

“Come take a break. You’re not gonna get any further with it if you just keep staring at the screen like that.” Beca tapped the spot on the bed beside her, and Chloe gave in and joined her.

She was never very good at saying no to Beca.

“Thank you for this,” Chloe said, taking a sip of the coffee, smiling because Beca knew how she took it.

“No problem,” Beca said. “How come you left your paper so last minute?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said, taking another sip. “I kinda forgot about it. I kept putting it off.”

“Do you think you can get it done tonight?”

“I have to,” Chloe said. “As long as I don’t fall asleep at the keyboard, I should be okay.”

Beca laughed. “I’ll just throw a pretzel at you every time you nod off.”

“Are you going to stay here all night?” Chloe said, laughing too.

“Why else do you think I made myself a coffee?” 

Chloe turned to look at her, and realised she wasn’t joking. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” Beca said. 

Chloe couldn’t help but smile. She leaned in and kissed Beca on the cheek, before moving back to sit at her desk. 

“You’re not just gonna sit and watch me, are you? I’ll get performance anxiety,” Chloe said.

“No,” Beca replied, laughing. “I’m gonna go grab my laptop, I’ll be right back.”

When Beca returned, laptop in hand, Chloe was typing quickly. Her notes were spread over the rest of her desk, and she kept pausing to look at them. Her finger would trace down the page until she found a quote she was looking for, and then she’d carrying on typing. 

They didn’t speak for a while. Chloe seemed to be on a roll but Beca was facing her own block.

It was the reason she’d even been up at 2 am in the first place.

A music producer wanted to hear what she had to offer, and Beca had been terrified to discover that she had absolutely nothing original to say.

To her, making mixes was as easy as breathing. She heard music in a way that not many other people did. She could deconstruct and rebuild songs with ease. She could combine them and remake them without any doubt or fear.

But to create something new? To make something out of nothing? That, she was discovering, she couldn’t do. If making mixes was like breathing, this was like breathing underwater.

She just couldn’t do it.

“I’m gonna need a vacation after this,” Chloe mumbled after a while.

Beca laughed, still staring at the empty track on her laptop.

“What are you working on?” Chloe asked.

“Nothing,” Beca replied, looking up. “How are you getting on?”

“Maybe halfway?” Chloe said. 

“That’s great,” Beca said, smiling. “Do you need another coffee?”

“No, I’m good thanks Becs,” Chloe said. “Let me hear what you’re working on?”

“It’s nothing,” Beca said. “Having a bit of a creative block so there’s nothing to hear. Anyway, don’t let me distract you, you were on a roll before.”

“Okay,” Chloe said, frowning slightly. She turned back to her laptop and carried on typing.

Beca sank back against the headboard, and closed out the music program. 

“Where would you go?” She asked after another period of silence, the only sounds coming from Chloe’s keyboard.

“Huh?” Chloe asked, rubbing her eyes, clearly exhausted.

“If you went on vacation, where would you go?”

“I dunno,” Chloe said. She thought for a minute. “I guess… I kinda miss the sea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chloe said. “The sea makes me feel… calm. When I was a teenager and I’d have a bad day, I’d just go for a walk on the beach and it always made me feel better.”

“Okay,” Beca said.

“Shame there’s no beach near here, huh?” Chloe asked before she carried on typing.

“Yeah,” Beca said, already pulling Google maps up on her laptop. 

Chloe finished her paper at 5:30, the sound of her closing her laptop lid in triumph waking Beca from her nap.

“You did it?” Beca asked, rubbing her eyes.

“I did it,” Chloe said, smiling. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“No problem,” Beca said, laughing slightly as she realised she’d spent the last hour asleep. 

Chloe climbed into bed beside her, relieved she now had one less thing to worry about.

“Do you want me to go?” Beca asked.

“No,” Chloe said. “Do you want to go?”

“Not really,” Beca replied. “Do you want me to set an alarm?”

“I don’t have any classes tomorrow,” Chloe said.

“Me neither.”

As Chloe got comfortable, Beca began typing something into her laptop.

“What are you doing?”

Beca hit enter, and the soft sounds of the ocean started playing through the speakers.

“I can do some seagull impressions too if you want?”

Chloe laughed, and pulled Beca close to her, her arms wrapping around Beca’s waist. 

“Dork,” she said, smiling.

“Rude,” Beca replied, also smiling.

“Do you wanna talk about the creative block thing?” Chloe asked, trying not to let her eyes close.

“Not right now,” Beca said. “It’ll pass, don’t worry.”

“I can’t help but worry,” Chloe said, cuddling Beca tighter.

“I know,” Beca replied. “But you worry too much. You worry about everyone. Everything. You’re not allowed to worry about this too.”

“Bossy.”

Beca laughed, and felt Chloe’s breath tickle her neck as she laughed too.

“Go to sleep weirdo.”

——

A few days later, Beca knocked on Chloe’s bedroom door again.

“Come in.”

Beca entered, and saw Chloe sitting on her bed, still in her work-out gear, unlacing her running shoes.

Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was in a messy ponytail, strands sticking to her face.

Beca forgot for a moment why she had entered the room. 

Post-work-out Chloe always distracted her.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Beca asked.

“It’s Saturday, we have an all day rehearsal,” Chloe said, confused at how Beca could have forgotten this.

Beca bit her lip, trying not to grin too hard. “We had an all day rehearsal. Can you be up and ready for like 7 am tomorrow? And make sure you pack like warmish clothes. Enough for one day and night.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You wanna vacation or not?”

——

Beca was half asleep at the kitchen table when Chloe got downstairs at 6:45 the next morning. 

“Ready?” Beca asked with a yawn.

“Are you gonna tell me where we’re going?”

Beca smiled but shook her head.

“Come on,” Beca said, standing up. “Your chariot awaits.”

“My chariot?”

“My dad’s Toyota, same thing.”

——

They drove for almost five hours before Chloe spotted the sea, and the squeal of delight was like music to Beca’s very tired ears.

It was another hour before they reached their Airbnb for the night, and then, hand-in-hand, they walked to the beach.

It was mostly deserted and the beach itself seemed to be more pebbles and stones than the sand Chloe had grown up with, but she didn’t care.

She could feel the sea air making its way through her. Shaking out all the creases and blowing away all the cobwebs.

She felt like she could finally breathe for the first time in months. She didn't feel the crushing responsibility of school and the Bellas anymore.

The smell of the sea was like home, and the sound of it was more comforting than she could explain.

It wasn’t a rough sea, but the soft sound of the water being pulled back across the rocks, before rushing forward up and onto the beach seemed to empty her head of every negative thought.

“Thank you,” Chloe said, softly, squeezing Beca’s hand. “I needed this.”

“You know you can tell me when you’re struggling, right? I know you feel like you need to keep it together for the rest of the Bellas… Like you need to be strong and calm all the time, but you don’t. At least not with me. We’re co-captains, remember? Partners. We’re supposed to share the load, and I feel like you’ve been carrying mine this year.”

“I just… I don’t want to fail. I don’t want to let everyone down. If we don’t win… If the Bellas have to disband after this year… They’re my home, Beca. My family. I can’t lose that.”

“You won’t lose it,” Beca said. “No matter what happens, we’re still family. Nothing will change that.”

“Even if we lose? Even if this legacy that’s existed for years and years has to stop? Because of me?”

“Not because of you. This isn’t all on you,” Beca said, brushing away one of Chloe’s tears. “Chloe, we’re all still in this because we’re a family, you know that right? We’re not here to win trophies and titles, we’re here because we like being together. We like singing and hanging out and living together.”

Chloe laughed softly and another tear fell. “The girls are all working so hard and-”

“-for you,” Beca said. “They’re working hard because they can see how much it means to you. They don’t care about winning, not really, not deep down. They just don’t want to let you down. They love you. I… I love you, Chloe.”

Chloe swallowed and more tears fell. She turned to look back out to the sea, waiting for the sounds to calm her again, but her heart was pounding too hard for that to happen.

Beca didn’t know whether she should be freaking out or not, but Chloe’s hand was still in hers, so that hard to be a good sign. It grounded her enough to keep on talking.

“Whatever happens at the Worlds, it won’t change anything. We’ll still always be the Bellas. We’ll still be Beca and Chloe. I’ll still be in love with you,” Beca said. “And you don’t need to say that back, if you don’t feel the same. But I wanted you to know. To me, you’ll never be a failure, or a disappointment.”

There was a silence between them that, to Beca at least, felt like it lasted a lifetime.

She didn’t understand how Chloe didn’t know how much they all loved her.

How much she loved her.

The silence stretched on, punctuated by the sounds of seagulls and waves crashing. 

Beca might have found it relaxing, if her stomach wasn’t busy tying itself in knots.

She was sure of one thing though, and that was that she didn’t regret what she’d said.

She knew she’d never regret telling Chloe that she loves her.

“Beca,” Chloe’s voice broke slightly, and she coughed to clear it. “Beca, I never thought… I’d almost given up…”

“On what?”

“On us. On us being more than friends. And don’t get me wrong, Beca. I love being friends with you. Your friendship is everything to me. But… But I always wanted… I always hoped we would have more.”

“Me too,” Beca said. “It’s not too late for that, right?”

“No,” Chloe said, smiling and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Never.”

“Cool,” Beca said, grinning. “Can I kiss you?”

Chloe nodded, and closed her eyes at the feeling of Beca’s hands cupping her face. 

When their lips met, Chloe thought her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

“No more shouldering this alone, okay?” Beca said, their eyes closed, foreheads touching.

“Okay,” Chloe said.

“We’re a team.”

“Yeah,” Chloe said, not knowing if she wanted to laugh or cry. “God, I love you. I love you so much, Beca.”

“I love you too.”

[rocknvaughn]

New Colin Morgan Interview with Edge Media Network about Benjamin - UPDATED

I am reblogging this because, after the author was made aware of an error in the posting of his article (if anyone clicked through to read it on the site, there was a whole question and answer that was repeated), the error was corrected and another three questions and answers were added! I am correcting it here, but they were very interesting, so I suggest you read the full article again!

I shall post the link at the bottom, but I wanted to type it out so that non-English speakers could more easily translate it. (This article was listed in their “Gay News” section of the site, hence the focus on the gay roles.)

British Actor Colin Morgan: How the Queerly Idiosyncratic ‘Benjamin’ Spoke to Him

by Frank J. Avelia

In writer-director Simon Amstell’s sweet, idiosyncratic, semi-autobiographical comedy, “Benjamin,” Colin Morgan plays the titular character, an insecure filmmaker trying to resuscitate his waning career (at least it’s waning in his mind) after one major cine-indie success. Benjamin is also doing his best to navigate a new relationship with a young French musician (Phenix Brossard of “Departures”).

Thanks to the truly endearing, multifaceted talents of Morgan, Benjamin feels like an authentic creation--one that most audiences can empathize with. Sure, he’s peculiar, has a legion of self-esteem issues and an almost exasperating need for acceptance as well as an inconvenient talent to self-sabotage the good in his life. But who can’t relate to some or all of that?

“Benjamin” is one of the better queer-themed films to come out in recent years, in large part because it eschews emphasis on the queer nature of the story. Instead, the film is a fascinating character study with Morgan slowly revealing layers and unpacking Benjamin’s emotional baggage.

Morgan is a major talent who has been appearing across mediums in Britain for many years. His London theatre debut was in DBC Pierre’s satire, “Vernon God Little” (2007), followed by the stage adaptation of Pedro Almodovar’s “All About My Mother” (2007), opposite Diana Rigg. Numerous and eclectic stage work followed (right up until the Corona shutdown) including Pedro Miguel Rozo’s “Our Private Life” (2011), where he played a bipolar gay, Jez Butterworth’s dark comedy, “Mojo” (2013), Arthur Miller’s “All My Sons” opposite Sally Field (2019), and Caryl Churchill’s “A Number” (2020), to name a few.

His TV work includes, “Merlin” (playing the wizard himself), “Humans” and most recently, in a very memorable episode of “The Crown”. Onscreen he can be seen in “Testament of Youth”, “Legend” with Tom Hardy, “Snow White and the Huntsman” and Rupert Everett’s take on Oscar Wilde, “The Happy Prince.”

He’s played a host of gay roles in the past on stage, screen and TV.

EDGE recently interviewed the star of “Benjamin” about the new film and his career.

Why Benjamin?

EDGE: What drew you to this project and were you part of its development?

Colin Morgan: It’s always the strength of the script for me on any project and Simon’s script was just so well observed, he managed to combine humor and poignancy in delicate measure and when I first read it I found myself being both tickled and touched. Then reading it again and from “the actor” POV... I knew it would be a real challenge and uncharted territory for me to explore. I auditioned for Simon and we tried it in different ways and then when I was lucky enough for Simon to want me on board, we began to work through the script together, because it was clear that this was going to be a very close working relationship... it was important for the level of trust to be high.

EDGE: I appreciated that this was a queer love story where the character’s queerness wasn’t the main focus. Was that also part of the allure of the project?

CM: I think Benjamin’s sexuality is just quite naturally who he is and therefore that’s a given, we’re on his journey to find meaning and love and there’s certainly a freshness to what Simon has written in not making sexuality the main focus.

Great chemistry

EDGE: Can you speak a but about the process involved in working with Amstell on the character and his journey?

CM: Simon and me worked very closely over a period of weeks, at that time prior to shooting I was doing a theatre project not far from where he lived so I would go to him and rehearse and discuss through the whole script all afternoon before going to do the show that night, so that worked out well. It’s so personal to Simon, and to have had him as my guide and source throughout was fantastic because I could ask him all the questions and he could be the best barometer for the truth of the character; a rare opportunity for an actor and one that was so essential for building Benjamin. But ultimately Simon wanted Benjamin to emerge from somewhere inside me and he gave me so much freedom to do that also.

EDGE: You had great chemistry with Phenix Brossard. Did you get to rehearse?

CM: Phenix is fantastic, Simon and me did chemistry reads with a few different actors who were all very good but Phenix just had an extra something we felt Benjamin would be drawn to. We did a little bit of rehearsal together but because it was a relationship that was trying to find itself there was a lot of room for spontaneity and uncertainty between us, which is what the allure of a new relationship is all about, the excitement and fear.

Liberating process

EDGE: Did your process meld with Amstell’s?

CM: I’ve said this a lot before and it’s true, Simon is one of the best directors I’ve worked with. Everything he created before shooting and then maintained on set was special. We always did improvised versions of most scenes and always the scripted version too. It was such a creative and liberating process. That is exactly the way I love to work. And for a director to maintain that level of bravery, trust and experimental play throughout the whole shoot stands as one of the most rewarding shooting experiences I’ve had.

EDGE: When I spoke with Rupert Everett about “The Happy Prince,” he very proudly boasted about his ensemble. Can you speak about working with Rupert as he balanced wearing a number of creative hats?

CM: Again, this was an extremely rewarding project to work on and quite a similar relationship as with Simon in the respect that Rupert was the writer/director and Oscar Wilde is so personal to him. And then we also had many scenes together in front of the camera, so Rupert and me had a real 3D experience together. It was a long time in the making. I was on board, I think, two years before we actually got shooting so I had a lot of time to work with Rupert and rehearse. He really inspired me, watching him wear all the different creative hats, such a challenging and difficult job/jobs to achieve and he really excelled--plus we just got on very well.

Playing queer roles

EDGE: You haven’t shied away from playing queer roles. Do you think we’re moving closer to a time when a person’s sexual orientation is of little consequence to the stories being told, or should it always matter? Or perhaps we need to continue to evolve as a culture for it to matter less or not at all...

CM: That’s a hard question to answer, I think certainly the shift in people’s attitudes has changed considerably for the better compared to 40 years ago, but there will always be resistance to change and acceptance from individuals and groups whether it be sexuality, religion, race, gender--we’re seeing it every day.

Evolution is, of course, inevitable, but if we can learn from the past as we evolve that would be the ideal. Unfortunately, we rarely do learn, and history repeats itself.

EDGE: You were featured prominently in one of my favorite episodes of the “The Crown” (”Bubbikins”) as the fictional journo John Armstrong. Can you speak a bit about working on the show and with the great Jane Lapotaire?

CM: I had an exceptionally good time working on “The Crown.” Director Benjamin Caron, especially, was so prepared and creative, and made the whole experience so welcoming and inclusive. It was an incredibly happy set, with extremely talented people in every department, and I admired the ethos of the whole production and have no doubt that’s a huge ingredient to its success, along with Peter Morgan’s incredible writing.

I was also a fan of the show, and it was an honor to be part of the third season. And I can’t say enough amazing things about Jane Lapotaire. We talked a lot in between filming, and I relished every moment of that.

EDGE: You’ve done a ton of stage work. Do you have a favorite role you’ve played onstage?

CM: I’ve been so lucky with the theatre work I’ve done, to work with such special directors and work in wonderful theatres in London. I’ve worked at the Old Vic and The Young Vic twice each, and they’re always special to me. Ian Rickson is a liberating director, who I love. It’s hard to pick a favorite, because the roles have all been so different and presented different challenges, but, most recently, doing “A Number,” playing three different characters alongside Roger Allam and directed by Polly Findlay, was a really treasured experience, and I never tired of doing that show, every performance was challenging as it was.

Miss the rehearsal room

EDGE: You were doing “A Number” earlier this year. Did you finish your run before the lockdown/shutdown?

CM: Just about! We had our final performance, and then lockdown happened days later. I feel very sorry for the productions that didn’t get the sense of completion of finishing a run. I mean, finishing a full run leaves you in a kind of post-show void anyway, even though you know it’s coming, so to not know it’s coming and have it severed must be even more of a void.

Memories of performing just months ago seem like such an unattainable thing in this COVID world right now. I can’t tell you how much I’m hoping we get back to some semblance of live performance.

EDGE: What was it like to appear onstage opposite Dame Diana Rigg in “All About My Mother?”

CM: Well, I think “iconic” is an apt word for both the experience of working with Diana and the lady herself. In between scenes backstage we used to talk a lot and we got told off for talking too loudly, so Diana began to teach me sign language and we would spell out words to each other, maybe only getting a couple of sentences to each other before she was due on stage and I had to get into position for my next entrance-- we did a radio play together two years ago and she remembered, she said, “Do you remember A-E-I-O-U?” signing out the letters with her hands.

EDGE: None of us knows the future in terms of the pandemic and when we might return to making theatre. I’m a playwright myself and find it all supremely frustrating but I’m trying to remain hopeful! Where are you right now in terms of the standstill we are in and what the future might hold?

CM: Yes, I’m so worried for theatre. It’s a devastating blow. I’m sure as a playwright, you know that the creative spirit in individuals hasn’t been diminished by this virus. People are creating important art in this crisis but we need the platforms to present it and bring people to some light again out of this really scary period, but it needs to be safe and it’s a worrying time. The virtual theatre approach must be looked at I think. We need to experiment and find new paths at least for the time being. I’m involved in developing some things right now and how we can work on things in both an isolated and collaborative way. It’s entirely counterintuitive to what the family-feel and close bond of a group in a rehearsal room is like-- I miss the rehearsal room so much!-- but we can’t sit still, we must create and we must act.

What’s in a role?

EDGE: Looking back on the great success of “Merlin,” what are your takeaways from that experience?

CM: Some of the most treasured memories of my life will forever be connected to “Merlin,” the cast, crew, production, everyone! The invaluable training of being in front of a camera every day! The chance to inhabit a character and live with him for five seasons! There’s too much to list and words probably won’t do justice anyway, but I’m truly grateful for everything the show gave me.

EDGE: How do you select the roles you play?

CM: I guess they select me in a way. I can’t play a role unless it speaks to me and provokes me in some way, but ultimately it’s the characters that I have a fear about playing, not knowing how I’m going to enter into the process of living them, when I don’t have all the answers it’s a good indicator of a character I must play. If I have all the answers, there’s less scope for exploration and discovery which isn’t as interesting for me.

Link here

[anystalker707]

Paintings and cuddles

Pairing: Gerard Way x Reader Genre: Fluff/comfort Summary: Gerard and reader barely have time to spend together, but that doesn’t really prevent them from having dates in the middle of the night Word count: 1 876

Difficult. That's how it has been. I mean, not like most of the people expect to have an easy relationship with someone who they're barely able to see. While a great part of my work can be done either from my place or quickly, Gerard is so busy that we're rarely see each other. Of course we're always exchanging messages and occasionally meeting each other, but it's barely nothing considering sending messages are useless when it comes to wanting to kiss the other and when we see each other personally, it's not for long even if the times are relatively many. All of that induces us to being extremely needy when meeting up, not to mention the cheesy texts.

Lately, I'm starting to believe Gerard somehow affects on my creativity. A breathy chuckle leaves my lips as I gaze at the half done sketch over the white sheet; I just can't find how to complete it without making it worse or coming to nothing at all and whenever I try to think about a solution, my need of Gerard is everything ends up filling my mind.

It doesn't take me much to notice I've used all my daily creativity quota by now, so I let go of all my art materials, stretching myself with a groan before standing up. My eyes rest once again over the wide sheet of paper, expecting a random idea to show up in my mind - unfortunately, it never happens and I'm left frustrated as going to bed, rather early than usual. Maybe I'll have some kind of inspirational dream? Sure as hell I hope.

Well, perhaps there would have been any chances of getting an inspo dream if I was able to get some sleep in first place, but all I have been doing on my bed is rolling around for the past hours in long pauses between naps and Gerard thoughts. Immediately recognizing it's my escape from another long hour of staring at the darkness of my room, my hand flies to my phone at the moment it vibrates at the arrival of a new notification. Seeing it's a message from Gerard makes my heart flutter.

Gee❤⛓🌹🖤:  Miss u

Me: Miss u too Can I come over?

Gee❤⛓🌹🖤: I was gonna complain it's almost midnight, but I want you too much

Chuckling to myself, I place the phone aside before getting up to my feet; I just bother changing my clothes - into others that are also comfortable, but don't look like they were incessantly used for a certain period of time five years ago - then grab my things to leave. It's not like his place is too far from mine, so a small jog towards there will do. As soon as I reach his place, the cold night air is pleasantly substituted by Gerard's warmth when he throws his arms around me.

"I'm considering kidnapping you and not letting you go for a whole week." I mutter through a chuckle, tightening my arms around him as much as I can, causing him to do the same.

"Sadly, my job would be compromised and I unfortunately need to work if I want to eat something or maintain everything I need." He replies in the same joking tone, placing kisses on my cheek right after. Finally we pull away, but it's just for time enough for me to lean in and lock our lips in a kiss that mixes neediness and relief. We pull away with a last peck placed over my lips before he looks at me with a bright smile, taking my hand in his. "C'mon, it's kinda cold out here." He mutters as pulling me with him, closing the door once we're inside.

"I'm not bothering you, right?" I ask him with a small smile as letting my shoes by the door. "I know I should've asked before and all-"

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head in certain disbelief - I know the exact thought that crosses his mind, don't you know me enough? "I would've let you know." Just one side of his mouth moves when he speaks - the exact way like it does whenever he's being sassy, sarcastic or impatient - while a hand rests over his hip.

"Yeah, but that I want you too much was a reason to get suspicious." Humming, I narrow my eyes at him in a playful manner, watching his defeated face. Muttering for me to come along once more, he takes my hand in his once again and just lets go of it when we're on the couch, so we're able to cuddle. "Being away from you for too long gives me art block." I start, suddenly remembering about today's earlier events while adjusting myself next to him, under the blankets. "I sat for six hours in front of a white sheet and all I could do was nothing."

"I can't say it's easy without you either." Gerard breathes a chuckle mixed with a whine, glancing at me before returning his attention to the TV, setting something for us to watch. "If I didn't see you today, I'd probably go crazy." He furrows his eyebrows while smiling lightly; I slowly shake my head at him, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I'm not joking!" A grin cracks his lips as he turns to look at me, letting the remote control on the other side of the couch. "I wasn't even able to sleep properly!"

"I know you're serious!" I laugh at his reaction. "The same happened to me. Good thing you decided to text me." Because I definitely wouldn't do it, afraid I would disturb him or something.

"Indeed." His sweet tone makes me internally melt, even more when he places his lips over mine once again. Ugh, he better kiss me a lot to make it up for the time he's away. He just pulls away enough to disconnect our lips, still gazing at me with a need that equals itself to mine. "A question." Gerard says rather hesitantly, now with his hazel eyes flickering over my face, hidden twice due to a couple of quick blinks; he continues after I hum questioningly. "Can I... paint you?" A red color makes itself present over his cheeks, intensifying once I smile.

"Can I?" I ask in return, excited about the idea. Honestly, it feels like all the creativity just flows back in my head after his request. In response, I earn from him a shy yes, to what I answer with "Then of course you can."

Seeming happier, Gerard pecks my lips once again before standing up and disappearing in the hall, leaving me watching the TV until he's back with his art supplies - all of them neatly organized inside a paint stained briefcase. He leaves again, to the kitchen this time, but returns quickly with a glass of water. There's a big grin over his face as he sits down next to me with the palette in hands. No words are exchanged to decide where he'll start painting - we simply look at each other and his eyes move briefly to my arm then meet mine with a raise of eyebrows, earning from me a light shrug in response as I move closer, extending my arm towards him.

"So," Gerard starts, dipping the paintbrush in the black paint; it touches my skin and makes me shiver at the cold pleasant sensation. "how was your week?" With the brush gaining a rhythm of taps against my skin, I quickly get used to it.

"Oh," I breathe out, taking a moment to think while half of my attention is still taken by the TV. "it was mostly boring, but had some nice moments." And I start a ramble about how my week was full of suffering for inspiration, boring talks with costumers and a nice art exposition I got the opportunity of  going to, mentioning how he'd love it. He makes some comments now and then and it may sound stupid, but it makes me soft how he cares. By the time I finish talking, his job on my arm is done and dry. "That's beautiful!" I widen my eyes at the roses painted on my forearm, carefully moving my arm so I'm able to take a good look at it.

"I need to do my best, anyways, my canvas is you." His hazel eyes gaze at me from under his eyelashes as he cleans the paintbrush, shyly smiling. I scoff at it, silently asking for the supplies this time. He gives them to me and adjust his position on the couch so his arm can comfortably rest over my lap for me to paint it.

"What about you, hm?" I mix some of the paints on the palette until reaching the tone I've got in mind. "You were over to New York this week, right?" He's midway through his answer when the paintbrush touches his skin, making him flinch lightly and move away. That results in me chuckling while he mutters embarrassed apologies.

His week sounds far more interesting than mine and I don't hesitate in showing that, groaning about how boring my life is when he's done. "Of course not." He answers with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to my lips before finally admiring my work. I tried to do something similar to his drawings, copying all the goth punk style. Gerard playfully pulls on a judging face as scanning my painting, raising and lowering his arm to have different angles of it. "I guess it's good." His dramatic tone makes me roll my eyes, containing a grin that ends up cracking my lips when he admits finding it perfect and places a kiss on my cheek.

While the paint on Gerard's arm dries, we get immersed in another talk and, noticing my sleepy state, Gerard pulls me to lay with my head on his lap. Having him playing with my hair gets me to the edge of sleepiness and I'm able to hear him chuckling softly while caressing my cheek with his thumb. "Hey," He asks quietly, continuing once I hum in response. "can I paint your back?"

"Sounds awesome." I grin, thinking about how wonderful it may feel. As soon as I've got my top bare, I lay over his lap, facing down, with my head over a pillow and in a way my stomach is right over his lap so he can easily reach my whole back and I'm comfortable. Wow, fuck, having my back painted almost feels better than having a massage on it. He chuckles lightly at the pleased hum I release, making me smile.

It's simply amazing how he paints precisely, with a light hand and is extremely careful at what feels like the details. Even if the brush tickles lightly, it just happens when there isn't much paint on it, but feels extremely pleasant when he passes the brush over the skin after dipping it in paint once more. I wouldn't complain about having more nights like this. Soon, the moment's comfort pulls me at once to fall asleep.

[yunohawkeye]

Dropping in to say I love your blog dear! 🥰🥰🥰❤❤❤❤ May I please request for NSFW alphabet for Submissive MC and Ikevamp Shakespeare?

Find yourself someone that devoted lolYou can consider yourself lucky Shakes~

It took some time but I finally finished it :)Thanks for @aromantic-misguide-to-romance and @reneotomegirl for having a look over it ^^

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

If it’s been quite a rough night you won’t even have to ask him. He’ll get salves, a nice steamy cup of tea and everything else you ask of him.He takes very good care of any bruises and handles them with such care that this alone makes you feel like floating on cloud seven.After everything is taken care of he’ll hold you tight, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and either play with your hair or caress your skin.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your face, for the simple reason that he loves to see the expressions he can coax out of you. He can’t get enough of seeing you lost in pleasure, in contrast to your innocent smile you wear over the day.

For himself he likes his deft hands. This goes combined with your expressions because, while he’s working you with his hand, he’s also able to look into your eyes.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Will is a very possessive lover, so seeing his cum on your face or dribbling out of your mouth after you went down on him gets him hard again almost immediately.

He also loves to see his essence running down your abdomen and just the thought that if this was inside of you- able to create new life sates his possessiveness.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s not a secret that he likes to do light bondage with you but there has been a fantasy in his head.

It involves you tied up, completely helpless and at his mercy while he coaxes those sweet, sweet sounds from you. Teasing and edging you relentlessly just to give you one mindblowing orgasm after another throughout  the whole night.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He does have some experience, especially from his former life, but even then he focused on the theatre and his plays. It was mainly flirting and flattering but there were some nights he gave in to temptation.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

He loves to see you lying on your back with both hands tied to the bedpost over your head. This leaves him with many opportunities and his imagination.

But if it’s not just for pleasure but for craved intimacy he likes the missionary position. As much as he likes to be creative he also cherishes those nights where just being with you sates all of his desires.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Will isn’t one to goof around, but is quite fond of teasing. Through his words he’ll make you giggle from time to time, but mostly uses it for very poetic dirty talk.

But he won’t shy away from cracking a joke or tickling you if you seem down.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Fitting for a gentleman he’s well groomed and due to personal preference he keeps it very short.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Normally he puts on his playwright mask wherever he goes and doesn’t let anyone actually come near him. This makes it more meaningful when he lets it fall, especially in those moments.

So with Will it’s always very intimate and sensual, even just on an emotional basis.He’d also never leave you unsatisfied or redundant do something you’re not comfortable with but would do anything you ask of him. He’s always weak for you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Will sees his life as a tragedy so such simple pleasures aren’t normally on his list, although even tragedies have their highlights. But still, it’s very rare to happen.

Until he met you. Since then he feels the urge almost every time after he spent time with you, because you make him feel things he hasn’t felt in ages.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s very fond of bondage, from light to moderate.

Will loves to tie you up and give you pleasure until you beg him to stop.

He’s not opposed to be tied up lightly himself, but he prefers if you’re the one tied up.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Going hand in hand with his preference for bondage, he’s fond of spending those nights in a bed.

He’s also fond of any other place he can tie your hands to, no matter the position. But again, he won’t ever force you.

Will won’t shy away from closets or storage rooms if you both are up for it, as well.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He gets really turned on whenever he sees you all dressed up and even more so when you decide to show some skin. If you top it off with a nice perfume he gave you, it allows you to see lust darken his eyes.

Other than that, a more innocent turn-on for him is your smile. Just seeing it makes him want to give you all the pleasure you deserve and even more.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He won’t hurt you. Not in the sense that he’d deny you any wishes in bed, but even then he has boundaries.

For instance, one thing he’d never do is to degrade you. As a playwright he knows how simple words can hurt. He’d rather praise you in any way he can.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Will loves to go down on you but prefers to do it with his fingers. When he has his head between your legs he can’t see your expressions but loves your wetness on his lips.

When he uses his fingers he can see your expressions and hear those sounds leaving your lips.

Let’s just say he’s torn. But either way, he is a big fan of the sweet torture of edging.

If you want to go down on him he won’t say no, but be warned, because he doesn’t have much control when you tease him too much.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

On a normal basis it’s rather slow and rough but he can go more tender if you ask him to. Will just wants to take his time with you.

Although, if you’ve been spending a lot of time with one of the residents and he’s fueled with jealousy you should prepare for a very rough and fast-paced night.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He prefers to take his time with you and make it a full body experience instead of just sating the hunger for pleasure.

There are some days where he’ll initiate them, but only if you haven’t seen each other in some time and don’t have much time on your hands.

But if you ask for it or initiate it he’d never say no. He'll only initiate it himself after you’ve been away for a long period of time or if his jealousy got the best of him.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He’s up for risk, especially for the risk of getting caught.

Pleasuring you in a broom closet while the others are eating in the dining room, wondering where you are, all while you have to stifle your moans.

But he’s not up for hurting you, at least not too much. He’s up for some rather rough scenarios but nothing that would leave scars or long lasting bruises.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He’s pulled many all-nighters in his life, but writing is quite different to having fun with each other in bed. But he can go for a few rounds, depending on the day, some more or less.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Will is very keen on using toys on you. The moment you told him that there are toys for sexual pleasure from the future he rushed to le Comte and asked him to get him some of those.

He’s a fan of burying one of those so-called vibrators inside of you while he keeps the remote to control the intensity. He loves the feeling when he presses just one button and can watch you trying to contain your mewls of pleasure. It has become his favorite  pastime activity.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He teases a little. But he’s very good at dirty talk which always sounds so poetic and makes you feel like you’re one of his masterpieces.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s quite moderate in volume.

Will groans on a normal basis but the moans turn lighter when he gets closer, just to top it off with heavenly sounding moans when he reaches his high.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

As much as he likes to take charge and have you at his mercy he also loves it when you take control from time to time, when you show him that he means as much to you as you mean to him.

But when you do, please be gentle, because on some days he just needs someone that uses their power to soothe and make him feel safe and cared for.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s a little above average in size and girth.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Let’s just say there’s a reason his pet is a bunny.

He wants to spend as much time with you as possible, also a lot of it in intimate settings. Because life is evanescent and he hasn’t felt the gentle embrace of a lover in a very long time, he  has so many built-up emotions boiling inside him. He needs someone to quench his thirst.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes some time until he falls asleep and he spends as long as he can awake, staring at your face and thinking about poems and stories through which he can show you how much you mean to him.

There are nights where he doesn’t sleep at all because seeing his muse sleeping in his arms gives him so many ideas that he just doesn’t have the time.

So sometimes it would be good to lull him to sleep before you, otherwise who knows how much sleep he’ll miss.

[destination-despairing]

so I was toying with this idea I got from a couple tiktok cosplayers and the concept that the remnants of despair tended to take their despair out on their own bodies, the idea being basically that Kazuichi dabbled in drugs pretty hard during his time as a remnant and ends up in pretty bad shape when waking up from the program. I wrote two alternatives and they’re both fairly heavy so mind warnings for drug use and self harm mention, I’m gonna put them both under the cut here

Kazuichi trapped his hands under his arms to make them stop shaking. He was sweating more than usual, and felt a bit dizzy as he listened to Hajime speak.

"Medical care is the most important part," he said. "We all woke up with some problem ke another. Immediately after waking everyone should be taken to me or later if she's available, Mikan, for a physical."

Kazuichi took a shaky breath.

"Next after that is psychological health, therapy should start immediately. Starting with us."

"Pfft, great, and that's you? Who's gonna give you therapy, tough guy?" Fuyuhiko said.

"Uh, no," Hajime was using his usual sass but still had the unsettling blank face and long hair of Kamukura, so it wasn't as funny when he added: "you couldn't pay me to be in more than one remnant mind, I'll stick to my own thanks. Makoto is offering online sessions with therapists briefed on the situation."

"Hey, what about the cottages?" Akane asked. "We should fix those up, right?"

Kazuichi tried to listen, but everything after that became a blur. The "family meeting" ended and he almost didn't notice. Luckily, Akane accidentally brushed against him as she was leaving, bringing him back to the present.

"Kazuichi."

"Wha?!" He jumped a mile at Hajime's sudden presence inches away.

"We need to talk." Hajime's mismatched eyes zeroed in on him, read through his lies and got to his core. He could tell, he started sweating more, wiped at his forehead with a trembling hand.

"Sure," he laughed nervously, following Hajime into the next room.

Hajime went to the desk in the center of the room and opened a drawer. "So. I found these in with your stuff back when Makoto and the others gave it all back."

Kazuichi froze as Hajime pulled out a nondescript black pouch, about as big as his hand.

So that's where they've been.

He reached for it without realizing, eyes widening, and froze when Hajime closed his hand around it.

"You're going through withdrawal," he said.

"I'm just feeling a little under the weather," Kazuichi lied, his eyes following Hajime's hand as they both sat down on either side of the desk.

Hajime opened the pouch, and Kazuichi resisted the urge to just grab it, to scream: "it's none of your business! They're mine and I need them."

Hajime ignored some of the baggies, others he removed some of the contents and started dosing out.

"We don't have any medicine for this sort of thing yet," he said. "I don't think they knew, or they would have had it on hand. So I'm going to have to wean you off."

"T… that's just cruel," Kazuichi whined, biting his lip so hard it bled. "Either I'm taking them and I suck but I feel good, or I don't and I suffer as a good person."

"Addiction isn't black and white like that," Hajime said.

"Of course it is!" Kazuichi snapped, thinking about his childhood home full of beer bottles with the labels peeled off.

"You were in despair," Hajime reminded him. "A lot of us did things to our bodies during that time, and all of us have to heal from them."

He slowly pulled up his sleeve and revealed an array of brutal scars. Kazuichi's eyes widened, wondering when and why Izuru had done that.

"This is how you heal," Hajime said. "I'm not giving you the option, just like I wouldn't give Fuyuhiko the option to keep the necrotic eye if he had wanted to."

Kazuichi's leg bounced, he'd thrown up fifteen minutes ago and he felt sick again already.

"I took more than that…" he said quietly.

"This is how much you get." Hajime pushed the drugs across the desk to him, and Kazuichi waited all of five agonizing and prideful seconds before snatching them up. 

"... thanks." He sniffled, hating it was Hajime of all people who caught him, this amazing guy he looked up to.

Of course, that just meant he really trusted Hajime to look after him.

"Now, while this is mandatory, I'm going to give you the option to tell me whether or not you want me to ask Makoto to provide you with addiction counselors. Don't decide now, come and tell me whenever you're ready."

Kazuichi nodded. "Thanks…"

Hajime's face softened, pushing past the cold Kamukura glare. "I'll stick with you through this, okay? You're my friend. I'm not mad or disappointed. Just… concerned."

Kazuichi wiped at his eyes, unable to stop the silent tears. "M-mhmm."

Hajime reached across the desk, and Kazuichi took his hand, feeling comforted by the human sensation of one hand gently squeezing another.

"M'gonna go take these… before I puke again," he said after awhile. 

"Want me to come with you?" Hajime asked. Kazuichi wondered if Hajime would keep an eye on him anyway, then decided he didn't care. He'd earned that kind of scrutiny, and Hajime had already said he wasn't judging him.

"Yeah, thanks, man."

Hajime hadn’t seen Kazuichi in some time, and the last time he’d seen him he’d been acting strangely. 

He didn’t know what it was, just that the Kazuichi in the real world somehow seemed less reliable and steady than the one in the program. Seemed less quick on his feet, less creative, less loud. 

He knew they’d all gone through hell and there was a recovery period, but he was worried maybe Kazuichi was just stuck like this, and that hurt worse than he thought it would. He missed Kazuichi. 

“Hey, Kaz?” he knocked on the door. “Didn’t see you at breakfast.”

Silence.

“... hey, can I come in?” he asked.

Silence again.

“I’m coming in, put on some pants if you don’t have any,” he joked weakly, just wanting to hear that crybaby screech Kazuichi always broke into when you teased him too hard. 

He opened the door and stepped inside, not seeing Kazuichi at first. Then he looked down and saw the crumpled figure leaning against the wall.

“Kaz!” he ran over, lifting him slightly and patting his cheek. “Kazuichi?”

Kazuichi’s eyes barely opened. “Wha…?”

“What happened?” Hajime asked, voice panicked, his fingers going to Kazuichi’s pulse.

“... huh?” Kazuichi’s head wouldn’t stay up on its own.

“Kazuichi. What happened?”

“... hm?” Kazuichi just seemed confused and lifeless, eyes closing again.

Hajime grabbed him, pulling hard on the part of his mind where Izuru kept their talent as he rushed to the hospital.

The last thing Kazuichi remembered was finally feeling again.

That numb tickle that traveled from behind him into his body, whispered in his ear that he could let go. 

So he had.

He thought maybe someone had talked to him, and as he started to wake he knew it hadn’t been his imagination, because he wasn’t in his room anymore and Hajime was standing at the foot of his bed.

“... Hajime?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“... so, I found these in your room,” Hajime said, opening his hand to reveal the pair of orange prescription bottles long ago filled with a variety of things that weren’t on the label.

Kazuichi felt cold dread take hold of him, both at the idea that Hajime had found him high and that his drugs were confiscated for sure. “Hajime, I-”

“Your heart stopped last night. I had to resuscitate you. Twice.” Hajime hung his head so low Kazuichi couldn’t see his expression. 

“S-shit…” Kazuichi couldn’t stand the thought of Hajime being mad at him. They were friends, he was probably the only friend he had left, because there’s no way the others didn’t know about this, he’d never tried to hide it back when they were all Despair and doing things to their bodies just to feel something in the new numb world they’d encountered. Now Hajime knew too, and he’d leave, and he’d be all alone… “I’m so sorry, Hajime,” Kazuichi felt tears springing to his eyes. “I know I messed up, I know I’m the worst and you must hate me and-”

He paused, because Hajime had lifted his head again and he looked terrified with wide eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“You scared me, you asshole,” he sobbed, wiping at his eyes pathetically before rushing over and pulling Kazuichi into a hug.

Kazuichi’s own crying only got worse at that. He hugged Hajime back as hard as his weak arms would let him, hiding his face against Hajime’s shoulder and shaking as his friend clung to him like he was afraid he’d slip away.

“I’m sorry…” he repeated himself.

“It’s okay, just don’t scare me again,” Hajime huffed. “I… I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I wouldn’t be mad at you for having the flu or depression, just scared that it was out of my hands,” he said, pulling away and cupping Kazuichi’s face in his hands. “You know I have to do something about this, right?”

“I’ll… I’ll be careful…”

“No, you won’t,” Hajime said, shaking his head knowingly. “So I’m going to be careful now, okay?”

Kazuichi nodded, biting his thumb and trying to stop crying.

Hajime stroked his hair, seeming unable to stop being in contact with him. He wiped Kazuichi’s tears before finally pulling away to wipe his own. 

“This is gonna suck, but you have to let me do it,” he said. “If you fight me on this too hard… if you don’t get better, then I have to tell Makoto and ask him to find you treatment off the island.”

“Yeah, sounds fair.” Kazuichi gritted his teeth and looked down.

“... I’m glad you’re okay,” Hajime said.

“Thank you for making me okay,” Kazuichi said, figuring if he said sorry one more time Hajime might just kick his ass. 

Hajime nodded, and reached over to stroke his hair one last time before leaving to get things ready.

[kpopshitposter]

Hi! Could I please request a written "how he would ask you out" scenario for N.Flying Jaehyun? Thank you so much!

Hi!!! Yes, of course. Thank you for your patience with this during the busy festive period!! I hope you like it.

Female reader x Jaehyun x Cha Hun (mention)

Warnings: none

It’s New Year’s Day and Jaehyun has an important question to ask... in a... very creative way...

My masterlist

Recently, you’ve been inseparable. You’ve learnt each other’s habits and the rhythm of his breathing has become a lullaby. 

You’ve spent whole weekends together, you’ve had 10 hour-long phone conversations. At this point, Hun keeps making jokes about you two being soulmates. He jokes about stealing you from Jaehyun, who will then cling to you and kick at his bandmate.

It doesn’t bother you, really. Despite how much you pretend to be annoyed and jokingly grossed out by the thought of going out with Jaehyun… somewhere along the way you developed feelings for him.

Jaehyun was always there whenever you needed someone. He always knew how to cheer you up, and he even knew when to be serious. He was so charismatic and incredible to watch whenever he played the drums. He was mesmerising in all aspects of life. He looked gorgeous now that his hair was longer, he was talented, he was fun, he was sincere in everything he did and said… 

It was why when he invited you to spend New Year’s Day with him, you didn’t have to think twice.

You spent hours deciding what to wear and in the end severely overdressed. It was just you and him, and he answered the door in jogging bottoms. 

It’s just you, after all. Just his close friend.

The reminder stung a little… but you were still happy to be there with him.

He squeezed you tightly and welcomed you in, whistling at you playfully as you walked past. 

He offered you a drink before holding out a little gift for you.

“... What’s this?” you smiled as you took the cutely wrapped present in his hands. It was a little box. “Is something gonna jump out at me?”

“Maaaaaybe. Open it!”

Your smile is impossible to control as you unwrap the unexpected present (but you do so VERY carefully, ready for a snake to spring out). “I didn’t get you anything, though…” oh. You looked at the present in confusion. “It’s a… deck of cards to play charades with?”

“Oh? Is it?! Sounds fun! Let’s play!” he took the deck from you and started to open it.

This was weird, but you’ve seen him act weirder.

You’ve learnt how to go with the flow.

You adjust your seat and watch him shuffle the deck and take the top card. He reads it and then puts it down. He starts to make hearts with his hands and throws them at you. 

“Love? Hearts?!”

Wrong!

It’s… he counts on his fingers and wiggles his hand.

“Five words!”

Yes!

He throws more hearts, and now kisses, and starts spinning around and talking to an imaginary person on the phone and… you’re getting a headache.

“Okay, okay… wait… what is this?? A movie? A book?”

He shakes his head and crosses his arms - no, no, no. He starts to shrug, palms to the ceiling, looking all confused and bewildered.

“Is - huh?!”

He pretends to throw something at you.

“Don’t blame me for your terrible charade skills! Do it from the beginn- oh- uh-”

He holds up five fingers.

“Five words!”

He nods and shows two fingers.

“Second word!”

He points at you.

“Me. Person. Friend. You!”

He nods and you cheer.

Third word.

He points to fingers up from his head and starts to run around the room.

“Crazy person?!”

He chucks a pillow at you.

“Bull! Cow?!”

He rushes towards a vase full of flowers and starts to poke his nose into it. He wiggles his hips and moves one pointing finger to his bum.

“Uh- fly? BEE?!”

Yes! You got it.

“You bee? ... Are you on drugs?”

He’s going to ignore that. First word.

He starts doing some very crazy pulling gesture, straining his face like -

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! JAE- TELEKINESIS? Pull? Closer? Hug? CRAZY PERSON?!”

Nope, nope, NOPE!!

Ok… he tugs on his ear.

“Listening? Hearing? Loud- OH! SOUNDS LIKE?”

Yes!!!! 

He points two fingers at thin air and pretend to shoot, only to then move in front of where the gun would have been pointing and fall on the ground.

“GUN? SHOOT? WAR?!?”

He gives you a dirty look and shouts your name in annoyance. 

He reenacts it again and then once on the floor points to himself.

“DEAD! BODY! DEATH! WAR?”

Shuffling over across the floor he grabs your ankle and pulls off your sock, no matter how much you try to pull away he holds you tightly. You’re whipped with the sock and sent into a laughing fit.

“Okay! Okay! I’m sorry! Give me my sock back you weirdo!”

Returning your sock to your foot he stands up again and gestures for you to PAY. ATTENTION. The scene is done again. Sounds like… someone shooting someone.

“OH-OH! SHOOT? UHH… MURDER!” you’re on the right track, his eyes tell you, “SOUNDS LIKE MURDER? WURDER? BLURD- Oh that’s not the right word? Die- KILL! Yes! OKAY. Bill? Fill? Gill? Chill!!! Pill?! Will? WILL! Which word is this again?! The first - WILL YOU BEE? HUH?!”

You sit more comfortably. It’s getting serious now.

Fifth word.

Two syllables.

First syllable.

He starts pointing at you again.

“YOU?” No! “Person! Human! Friend!” he looks physically pained, but no.

Okay, quit that.

He looks around the room and rushes over to take two clean plastic cups from the stack (nobody wanted to do the dishes, okay?!) and starts to stuff them down his top. He adjusts them with his back to you.

“What are you doing?!”

He places them horizontally on his chest. He turns suddenly and you burst into laughter.

“Madonna?!” you manage between laughs as you watch him pop his chest out with his new fake boobs. “I can’t - I can’t-” oh, are you crying?! Why is he so ridiculous?! “Woman!” CLOSE! He gestures. “Girl!? Girl! Oh - Will you bee something girlsomething? Oh! Oh! WILL YOU BE MY GIRLFRIEND?!”

Yes!

He yanks the cups out of his top and throws them at you! “YAAAAH! FINALLY!”

You stand with joy, clapping and smiling. “Okay! My turn!”

“... What?”

“It’s my turn! I got your one. Sit down.”

He stares at you and then crouches to reach for your ankles, “Give me your sock again!”

“What?!” you step away, trying to get out of his reach and run from him. He follows you, calling you to stop.

“Yah! Give me your sock! You need to be punished!” 

“For WHAT?!”

Uh oh - you’ve run into a dead end. You’re cornered by him in the kitchen, up against the counter. Can you run around the table? You’re quickly trying to think of an escape when you realise… he’s… slowed down.

He’s walking towards you, suddenly seeming… nervous.

“Jaehyun? What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t reply as he keeps edging forward. You’re frozen - partially wondering if this is a trick. It wouldn’t be the first time he faked an emotion to tackle you with tickles or something equally inane.

“Jaehyun…” you squint.

He says your name.

“What was the answer, again?”

You cough. “Will you… be my girlfriend…”

“Then what the hell?” he said it softly with a little laugh.

“You… what…”

He’s right in front of you now.

“Answer the question.”

“I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Will you?”

“Will I what?” You do know what he’s saying. You understand what he’s implying… you think. You don’t want to assume anything, though. You don’t want to be wrong. You don’t want to make it obvious how hard your heart is pounding, how violently it’s racing. 

He says your name and leans closer to you.

“How do you do that?” you whisper.

“Do what?”

“You go from being all goofy… to… this. You do it all the time.”

“What’s ‘this’?”

You clear your throat. Look at the way he’s looking at you. When he gets all soft like this, with his hair framing his face in this way… it’s like he’s a different person. Although… he’s beautiful either way. But he’s not a serious person, this isn’t like him.

“Jaehyun… don’t joke about this, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.” and he looked quite hurt that you thought he was. “I’ve thought about it for a while and… I want to start this year with you.”

“It’s not funny, Jaehyun. Stop it.”

“How can I convince you I mean it?”

You had to think of something wild. Something he wouldn’t do. Drink something off. Eat something super spicy. Tell your sister you love her.

“Kiss me.”

“Huh?”

“If you mean it, you’d kiss me, right? You’d want to anyway. Go on then. Kiss me if you’re actually asking.”

“Where?”

You wanted to say your lips. You wanted to believe for a second that it could be real. You held up the back of your hand.

“My hand.”

“That’s easy.” he takes the hand and moves even closer to you, leaning his face towards yours. “Let me prove it properly. I know I’ve made jokes like this before and Hun has, too, but I mean it.” He laces your fingers together and you stiffen. You know he felt you freeze when he asks: “Do you still want me to? Are you nervous?”

He’s so close you can hear his breathing and see each detail of his face. It was becoming a little too much. “I believe you now, you don’t have to do it.”  

“Is it because the answer is no?”

You hesitate. “Are you really asking me, Jaehyun? Like, seriously serious? Seriously?”

He flicks your forehead with his free hand. It reminds you that you’re holding on to one another tightly.

“You’re making me feel weird! Stop making this awkward! Just answer the question!” You laugh even though you actually feel like crying and hiding under the dining table.

“I mean - I - what if it ruins our friendship?”

“Hmm. What if it doesn’t?”

“What if it does? What if we break up?”

“What if we don’t?”

“What if you end up hating me?”

“What if I end up loving you?” you pause. “That was really smooth, wasn’t it?”

Laughing, you push at his chest a little. Gently. So gently. You don’t really want him to move away.

“Answer the question! Answer the queeeeestion. Answer meeeee. Ansssssswer. Aaaaaaanswer. Answer! Answer the question. Answer, answer, ans-”

“Okay! Yes. Yes. Y- Yeah. Jaehyun. I will be your girlfriend.”

“Realy?!” He snatches up your other hand.

“Ugh. Yeah, Jaehyun. I’ve kinda liked you for a while now… I just… I like being around you so much I didn’t want to say anything.”

He laughs and pulls you in for a tight hug. 

“So today is our first day?”

“I guess so,” you laugh shyly, “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year.”

[morepokemonimagines]

Fade In

This was inspired in-part by a scene in the music video for Fade In/ Fade Out by Nothing More. I have an OC for SwSh, and if I ever actually write a full story with her, I’ll likely end up using this scenario for it. But, since I don’t know if that will ever happen, I’m leaving her name out of this for now. I mean, it is kinda weird not mentioning a name in this, but I figured it would be easier for people to project their own OC’s onto this if they want to if I didn’t.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Piers and his girlfriend had been together three years now. They had met during the end stages of that year’s Gym Challenge when her booth outside of Wyndon Stadium had caught his eye. There were always a lot of booths set up out there every year because the event drew people in droves from all over Galar and even some from other regions, and Piers would use some of what little free time he had to browse through each one because he enjoyed supporting people trying to do their own thing. She was selling some of her paintings at her booth, and Piers was seriously impressed with her work. They ranged from realistic to surreal and expressionist, but they were all dark in nature and done with immense skill and detail. They certainly weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but they drew Piers in immediately. The two of them ended up spending a lot of time talking about the various pieces she had on display; her inspirations for them, the message they were trying to convey, what techniques she used, and so on. He ended up getting so wrapped up in their conversation that a member of the League Staff actually had to come find him so he wouldn’t be late for his match. 

He ended up winning his first match, but it was pretty obvious his head wasn’t in the game. His reaction speed was slower than usual and he was making mistakes he normally wouldn’t. His second match was less forgiving and he ended up losing, but he didn’t really mind that much. While he wanted to show off how good his pokemon could be without dynamaxing, he didn’t want anything to do with that whole Champion business. If he had managed to make it all the way to the finals, he would have just ended up throwing the match in the off chance he got too close to winning for his comfort. 

Now that he was free from the event and could do as he pleased since he didn’t care enough about anyone still participating to stick around this year, he decided he would go back to her booth and talk to her again. He usually wasn’t very talkative to people he didn’t know, but something about her made him feel so at ease that he had no problem at all talking to her as if he’d been friends with her since forever. Maybe it was because she was a fellow artist? He didn’t know, but it intrigued him greatly. 

He ended up buying one of her larger pieces, a black and white painting that looked like a skull when viewing it from afar but was actually a forest scene when viewed up close, and talking to her until it was time to close up for the day. This time around, they ended up talking about themselves more than the artwork, and he realized that he really liked this girl. She was nice, funny, creative, interesting, and her looks were nothing to sneeze at either. He helped her pack up her paintings and lock them away in the space provided by the League for vendors, and once that was done, he asked her to accompany him to dinner. She was surprised, but happily accepted. They’d been together ever since.

After being together for a few months, Piers could tell that this relationship might actually be going somewhere, so he decided to introduce his girlfriend to his little sister, Marnie. The two girls got on like a house on fire, much to his relief, and his girlfriend became a great confidant for the younger girl when she didn’t feel comfortable going to him with something. After about a year, he asked her to move in with him and Marnie, and they became one happy family. When Marnie left for her Gym Challenge, she helped console him and kept his worries at bay as much as possible. When he handed the Gym over to his sister and he started to go on tour for his music career, she would switch off between staying back to support Marnie and traveling with him to support him and sell paintings at his concerts.

Piers hadn’t really thought much about having kids of his own before he had met his girlfriend, and even now they were being careful so she didn’t  end up pregnant. But, the more time went on, the more he thought about it. He decided he wouldn’t be opposed to it, but he probably wouldn’t go out of his way to make it happen. They’d talked about plans for the future from time to time, but they both had more of a “whatever happens, happens” attitude and they left it at that. They were happy as they were, just the three of them; why mess with a good thing?

Well, a few months ago, it happened. It came as a surprise to her because she had gotten her period that month, though it was much lighter than normal and the cramps were mild at worst, which was a bit odd. But, when that was coupled with an abnormal moodiness, unusual fatigue and the tell-tale vomiting, they both began to suspect what was going on. They weren’t entirely sure how it happened, and they were certainly nervous about the situation, but they weren’t displeased about it. As her idol once said “We don’t make mistakes - we have happy accidents.”

Today, she was going in for an ultrasound. Piers usually went with her to her doctor’s appointments, but he was busy packing for a tour in Alola, so she insisted he just let her go by herself this time. This wasn’t meant to determine the sex of the baby or anything anyway; that wasn’t due to happen until just before he left for his tour. This was something she scheduled because she had a major case of the “going good blues” and just needed this to put her mind at ease. 

Of course, nothing about this pregnancy went as expected, and this was no different. She wasn’t supposed to find out the sex of their unborn child this time around, but here she was with this information now. The damn kid just HAD to be in the perfect position for the technician to tell with a great amount of certainty on the ONE occasion that Piers wasn’t with her. She was happy to know that the baby was totally fine, and knowing the sex of the baby early means that they can prepare even better, but she is kinda miffed that it happened when Piers wasn’t around. At least now she gets to think of a cute way to tell him though, and she’s got a great idea already.

Piers had gotten a text from her telling him that he had been right about her worries being unfounded and that she would be home in a few minutes. Sometime after, he had gotten another text asking him to meet her at her rented studio space about a block away from their apartment because she needed his opinion on something, which he found odd. She was so adamant that he stay home and get ready for his tour rather than go with her to her appointment, but now she was wanting him to stop and head over to her studio? Why not just send a picture if she wanted his opinion on a painting? What was she doing there anyway? He’d made it pretty clear that he wanted her to keep the painting to a minimum for the time being since he was worried that the paint fumes could cause complications if she were around them for long periods of time; he even got her a really nice sketchbook and professional-grade colored pencils so she could just draw any ideas she’s hit with in the interim. He’d have to talk to her about this.

“Babe, I thought we talked about this.” Piers said with a sigh as he entered his girlfriend’s studio.

“I know, I know.” She said walking over to him and taking off one of his gloves, which had him confused. “But this was important. Close your eyes for me.”

Piers raised an eyebrow at the odd instruction but did as she asked.

“Good. Now, don’t open them until I tell you to. Promise?” She asked.

“Yeah, sure. I promise.” He said with a chuckle. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Well, you picked me, so you have to deal with it.” She said, taking his ungloved hand and flipping it so that his palm was facing upward.

He smiled at her remark. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Then, he felt something cold and wet on his hand as well as the tickling sensation of what seemed to be a paintbrush. He almost opened his eyes in surprise, but she scolded him and reminded him of his promise, so he fought the urge. Once his palm was covered in paint, she re-positioned it so that it was facing forward and pulled it down slightly as she pressed it against something.

“Okay, you can open your eyes now.” She said softly.

Piers slowly opened his eyes and looked down to where his hand had been placed and saw that she had placed it on her stomach. He furrowed his brow in confusion and slowly lifted his hand to reveal a light blue hand print. He stared at it for a few seconds, seemingly having trouble processing what this all meant, but when it clicked, his eyes snapped up to meet hers. She smiled and nodded, answering his silent question. He broke out into a huge grin and picked her up in a spinning hug, not caring, or really even noticing, that in doing that he had gotten paint from her belly all over his shirt and paint from his had all over her hair.

[marriedgangbangslut]

College Life

So let me just say this; college is expensive ya’ll! My parents were great, they took out loans and had some savings to help me along and thanks to a few grants and scholarships it wasn’t as bad as it could have been but still, it was really costly. My first year I got a job in the campus bookstore and it was nice cause it was low stress but at the same time it was low pay. After i went home on break i heard my dad talking to mom about him getting a second job so they didn’t have to take out any more loans. At dinner I told him that i will find another job with better pay when i got back to campus so he didn’t need to work any harder for me. He was happy to hear it and said as long as it didn’t interfere with school and my grades he was all for it.

Break over i headed back, for xmas i got a camcorder from my grandma (miss you grams!!!!) and i was recording pretty much everything! I went to parties and recorded people drinking, getting high and other stuff like that so it was just a normal part of my everyday. Well after a few weeks I was in my room and just like now a days people with a camera inevitably end up using to record themselves being naughty. So i fired it up and grabbed my favorite vibrator and started recording! I loved watching myself get off and even got creative with positions, different toys and DP. There was no real internet back in the 90′s cause it was all basic dial up so i had no place to go with the content, i just kept it in my drawer labeled generically 1,2,3 etc. It wasn’t till after a house party one night that I actually found a way to make money with them.

For anyone that’s been to college and been to a house party you know how they go, start out quiet, music gets louder, people get drunk and high, some pass out and others hook up. I was usually the person hooking up and that night i found a guy that i was begging to fuck me! We were with a bunch of people smoking weed out of an apple (YUM!) and I was so horny from him flirting and grabbing on me the whole night that i took him to the bathroom and gave him head! I was just going to town on him not caring how he had no rhythm and kept going too deep in my mouth or even worse when i tried to deep throat him he was pulling back, really sucked (no pun intended) but i was having loads of fun. I guess we were in there for a while cause people were waiting to go pee and started knocking. He zipped up and I said we should head back to my room.

Once we got to my dorm and snuck past the door monitor we made it to my room, totally baked and very drunk. I immediately took my clothes off and and went for his dick! Dropped his pants and went right back to sucking on his very nice cock! My only goal in life at that point was to get him to cum in my mouth then have him fuck my brains out! The only problem was he had a case of whiskey dick and no matter what i did with my mouth he was floppy like a windsock :( He was embarrassed and suggested we take a break and make out to restart the whole thing without the pressure or fast pace i was moving at.

Taking a step back it made sense at the time so we started kissing and groping and feeling up on each other. I was ready for sure but he was still limp, so i said hold on and grabbed one of the tapes from my drawer, popped it in the VCR and grabbed my vibrator, once it came on i got in the same doggy style position as the video and played with myself the same way i was doing in the video. At that point his eyes got huge and asked if that was me on the tape for real? I was like “ummm yeah, same toys and same pussy lol” he finally started getting hard again and began jerking off to get himself up to full mast. I knew he was ready when he leaned in and started licking my asshole (FYI guys most of us love that so make sure to do it when your eating pussy). This drove me wild! I was running the vibrator over my clit while he was licking and sticking his tongue in my asshole and that’s when my mind blanked and i saw stars! I’m not saying it was the best orgasm of the week but it was definitely top 10!

Orgasm over and my guy of the night finally hard as a rock it was time for the main course so i tossed the vibe on the bed and got on all fours again, he dove right in! Now I’m sure most women will tell you that they have a favorite position, or several, but being fucked from behind is the best thing EVER for me so i was in heaven and well on my way to another orgasm, and unfortunately so was my guy for the night :( I could tell by his breathing that he was getting close and i begged him not to cum just yet, he just stammered out “I’m uh trying not too” which is code for “I’m going to cum and there is nothing anyone can do about it!!” And sure enough a minute later I felt his cock doing that swelling and pulsing inside me which told me it was imminent. I felt him start to pull out so i grabbed his legs and tried to pull him back in, i even said “no don’t pull out”, cause honestly at that point i just wanted to be filled up and happy! Well if wishes were horses :( In the end I only got the first rope of cum inside me and the rest he and let loose in my butt crack. Don’t get me wrong it still felt heavenly to feel it running down over my pussy as it cooled from that warm temp sperm initially has to room temp or whatever it is when it gets cold.

He dropped to the bed beside me and was in that annoying cool down period guys have between cumming and before they could get hard again so i grabbed my vibrator and started fucking myself while on my back. He was watching and grabbing my nipples then sorta stopped so i looked over and saw that he actually passed out on me!!!! In a vein attempt to wake him up I started rubbing the vibe on his balls and the head of his penis, I got a few tickled laughs out of it but he stayed passed out. Just for fun i sucked his dick a little more to get the cum off it then laid down to get some sleep.

Next morning (or the current one i guess) I kind of wake up and and see him watching not the video i played for him a few hours ago but another one where i was DP’ing myself and screaming like a mad woman. When he saw me watching he just looked embarrassed and said sorry. I was like “yeah you should have asked before going through my drawers” but it didn’t matter to me really. We were tossing on our clothes and he asked if he could borrow the one he was watching before, I stopped and having never really thought about it before wasn’t actually sure. So I said maybe and we headed to the dining hall to get some food. While were eating the subject of low funds came up cause i was waiting to get paid from my library job. Out of nowhere i just said that he could just buy the tape from me for $20 and with almost no hesitation he said “deal!”. After we were done eating we headed back to the dorm, he gave me the money and then i grabbed to tape from my room and we parted ways.

A few days later a random guy i never met before said that a friend of his showed him a tape of me and he wanted to buy some too. Told him i had a few solo videos if he wanted and offered them up for $30 each to try and make more money. He was not happy with the price so i told him if he bought this one at $30 i would give him a discount on a custom tape later just for him. He said OK but wanted to know how custom and how much, I said he could have anything he wanted for $100 instead of $120! Never thought he would agree but he had a huge smile and shook his head yes, so i go the cash and grabbed a tape for him.

As it turns out, for $100 he was expecting more than just a video of me fucking myself senseless and was planning on fucking me while being recorded! That’s another post in itself but in the end after having fucked him on film, loving it and selling it for a huge profit I ended up making 3-4 videos a week mostly with different guys! Tons of money compared to what i was making at the Library and it helped me pay for school. To help me out with getting guys I had put ads up on the local boards offering “PE Tutoring sessions without even leaving your room!” It took a little while but it eventually caught on and i had guys calling my room all the time to setup sessions. It was a win win for me cause i got to have sex with lots of guys and i made great money while doing it.

Now you might be asking yourself if i consider myself a whore, slut, hooker, prostitute or whatever for doing this. And to answer your question, No, I was probably going to fuck those guys anyway (OK maybe not 3-4 per week) and I was really only charging for the tapes not the sex (VHS tapes were pricey back in the day) so i got to live out some of my biggest fantasies like gangbangs, blowbangs and 3 ways all while making a profit!

Oh and yes because I almost never had the guys use condoms and they had a tendency to creampie me (mmmmm my personal favorite) I did catch the clap a few times and even though i was on BC I did have a number of pregnancy scares, some false some not which is why i am very PRO CHOICE, if you don’t like that that’s your problem! So please no judgemental comments about using condoms, pulling out or how i’m a bad person etc etc. Either read and enjoy or see ya later!!!

Anyway that’s all for now! Thanks for reading and be on the look out for my next post about one of my trips to an adult theater in Tampa FL. No spoilers but i was on a work trip down there without hubby and i got positivity filled from both ends that time (seriously I burped part way through the night and all i tasted was cum lol)!

MGBS

[absolutely-legit]

Chasing

Warnings: None

~*~

It’s quiet in the room, no hum, no buzz. Much too quiet for a music studio that should be filled with sound and song. It’s been like that for months. Quiet. It’s tidy, clean. The room almost feels like it was abandoned, eerily empty, if it weren’t for the dark haired young man sitting in front of the silent piano. But he too is quiet and still. He doesn’t move, sitting straight, hands folded in his lap, staring blankly ahead. He’s been sitting and staring for a long time, hours maybe. He’s looking down at the neat piano keys, but he doesn’t see them. He doesn’t see anything, caught inside his own head.

It’s been like that for days, weeks, months. But it’s worse today.

Atop the piano lies a sheet of paper, inconspicuous and yet out of place. Sheet music is what one would expect to find on top of a piano, but the paper is covered in small letters with an officially looking logo in the right corner. It’s an important document. At least it could be. Or it could not.

The young man finally moves. He raises a hand and places it gently on the white keys. It’s the kind of mellow motion one would expect from a pianist. The movement follows sound. A high noted lonely ‘Ping’ that’s too loud for the quiet. Then a second and a third. Then it dies. The slack hand falls back onto it’s owner’s leg.

Youngjae sighs, his shoulders sag. They feel stiff and he stretches wide and heavily, as if he hadn’t just wasted another day of his life. Then he carefully places the cover back down over the keys and rises to his feet. He stares down at the paper, shakes his head to himself and turns away. But just as he is about to take his first step towards the door, he quickly turns back and snatches the sheet off the piano, taking it with him when he leaves.

He keeps the papers by his side. While he cooks and has dinner, while he does the dishes and vacuums the dog hair from the sofa and while he watches Coco immediately jump up and spread her white fuzz all over the cushions again. From time to time he eyes the document, but each and every time he pulls his gaze away and tells himself to focus.

Still, it’s right there on top of the coffee table when Youngjae snuggles into his comfort blanket on the sofa, Coco on his chest and his favorite Drama playing on the screen. His time is running out, he knows that. He only has so many days before he will have to face reality, harsh and unapologetic. He hadn’t spent much time dwelling on what would happen. He’d played with the idea, entertained the thought, but he never thought it through to the end.

The universe is not playing in his favor today. When the drama goes into a commercial break and Youngjae just returns from the kitchen with a snack, he witnesses an ad crossing over the screen, underlined by a soft music piece. Just the tune alone speaks of longing, fantasy and a beautiful future. Youngjae heard this song many times and he loves it and hates it just the same. An artistically drawn cartoon plays, a sleeping piglet over whose head sits a dream bubble filled with colors and rainbows. The piglet opens its eyes and stands up on the bed, reaching its tiny arms up and catching the bubble in mid air. Then it pulls itself up and climbs inside.

Even 10 seconds later Youngjae can’t tell what the commercial was for, all that’s burned into his mind is the sentence showing up on the screen. “Chase your dreams.”

Youngjae walks over to the coffee table, grabs the stack of papers and throws them all into the paper bin.

“Morning Sunshine.” Youngjae is greeted right as he presses the elevator button. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is, but he does anyways. He plasters a happy smile on his face before he does and greets back. “Good morning, Hyung.” Jaebum pats his shoulder when he approaches and plants himself along before the elevator doors. For some reason Youngjae clutches his bag a little closer to his body. It’s stupid, but he feels like he’s carrying a big secret that is about to spill. In the morning, right after he climbed out of bed, sleep-ridden and in his pajamas, he walked back to the bin and fished the papers out. He couldn’t bear leaving to work without them.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jaebum notices with a curious glance and Youngjae shrugs, not in the mood to tell him wrong. The elevator arrives with a ‘pling’ and they get on, just them two. Youngjae likes being around Jaebum, but being alone with him, in such an enclosed space nonetheless makes him nervous. The female staff blush and giggle when talking to him and Youngjae would too, if he didn’t know how inappropriate that would be for him to do. If girls do it it’s cute, if he did it it’s gross. No, thank you.

“How’s that song coming along?” Jaebum inquires cheerfully, oblivious of Youngjae’s tight chest and throat. His mood, already at ground level falls through the elevator floor all the way down into the underground parking lot, smashing into the concrete. “Not bad.” He lies and Jaebum hears it. He’s smart, attractive talented, but also extremely sensitive and good with people. If he’d joined the company when he was younger, they surely would have debuted him as an idol. He’d have made all of Korea fall for him.

“Still in a slump, huh?” Jaebum slings an arm around his shoulder and presses him to his side. “Don’t worry.” He goes on. “You have the skills and it’ll pass. You can do it.” It’s just then that the elevator arrives at their floor and Youngjae has the chance to hastily excuse himself, shaking off the prodding arm and prodding questions so that he doesn’t have to think about whether he’s grateful for the nice words or throw up over what’s underneath.

Youngjae listens to a bit of scolding, scribbles down a few notes and overall does pretty much nothing. When his mind rests for too long, a little piglet climbs inside his brain, telling him to follow his dreams and he reaches for his bag and takes out the paper. “This is my dream.” He says and he has to say it out loud, because if he kept it inside his head it wouldn’t convince him.

It is his dream, he knows when he looks around the company. The people, the equipment. The studios, the music. Being a songwriter IS a dreamjob. He was so lucky to end up here. All the opportunities, the creativity, the skills and knowledge. The chances, the music, the art.

“Wanna grab lunch?” Youngjae startles when Jaebum’s head pops through a crack in the door. He hadn’t realized how the time passed. He decides to just nod and only when Jaebum steps closer and curiously looks down at the table asking. “What’s that?” Youngjae realizes with a shock that he still has the papers lying there, out in the open. He hastily grabs them and stuffs them into his bag. “Nothing.” He gasps and slings his bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Jaebum’s eyes narrow slightly, but he lets it slide. Youngjae gets on the elevator first and reaches out to press the button when Jaebum’s hand springs out of nowhere and grabs his wrist. Then he pushes him aside and presses the button for the ground floor. Youngjae frowns. “That’s not where the canteen is.” Jaebum beams. “Let’s go to the Italian place across the street.” He says. “I want lasagna.” Youngjae’s stomach feels fuzzy, but he shrugs it off.

“So, how’s that song coming along?” Jaebum asks once the waiter leaves with his order of lasagna and seafood-spaghetti. “You asked that.” Youngjae reminds him and avoids his eyes, letting his gaze wander around the dining area. It’s full, but the tables are nicely scattered so it doesn’t get too noisy. Jaebum props his chin onto his palm, elbow on the table and blinks at him. “And I’m asking again.” Youngjae’s eyes fleetingly flicker back to him. “Did someone put you up on my tail?” He asks, scrunching his nose as it tickles with the scent of herbs in the air.

“Yes.” Jaebum admits unabashed. “But that’s not why I’m asking.” Now Youngjae does look at him fully. “Then why?” He squints. Jaebum doesn’t show any signs of apology. “Because I want to know. You’re evasive and discouraged and you didn’t use to be like that.” It’s hard not to slump at the words. It’s true, Youngjae knows that. He used to be different, he used to be cheerful and laughing, the nickname ‘Sunshine’ coming from somewhere. “Follow your dreams!” The piglet screeches. Jaebum’s head tilts on his palm. “You used to have so much creativity and inspiration. And enthusiasm to be a producer.”

Youngjae presses his lips together. “People just have that sometimes.” He diverts. “Everybody goes through times like these, even you!” It’s half the truth. Jaebum is the most respected songwriter and producer in the company and even he had periods where he lacked output. But it surely never lasted as long as it does for Youngjae now. He shrugs unimpressed. “I’m thinking you could do better.” Youngjae’s anxiety slowly but surely tips over into anger. “Not helping.” He hisses. Jaebum finally sits back up properly, taking his arm off the table. “I know you did better when you were under less pressure.” He says casually. “But that’s how it is. There is pressure and it’s not going to go away because you want it to. If you want to be a music producer, you better get used to it.”

Youngjae isn’t used to hearing harsh words from Jaebum. Or, from anyone for that matter. He’s used to being encouraged. To hearing that he can do it, that he will achieve what he wants if he works hard. If there’s one thing people love to say, it’s that one fateful sentence. “Never give up.” The piglet taunts him and they’re quiet until the food arrives. Then Jaebum changes the topic and chatters away about miniscule things, leaving Youngjae confused and alone with his thoughts.

He mumbles a ‘Bye’ and walks off to the left once they’re back on their floor, knowing that Jaebum has to go right, but his sleeve is caught in the other’s grip and he turns back. “You know, Youngjae-ah.” Jaebum says, voice much softer than it’s been today. “I am a 100% honest when I say I know you can do better.” He pulls him a little closer in, face serious. “But that doesn’t mean you have to. Sometimes it’s just worth learning that, hypothetically, you’re not made to be creative under pressure.” Then he lets loose of his sleeve and steps away, leaving him dumbfounded in the hallway, mind tumbling over.

Youngjae pulls the stack of paper from his bag once he’s alone and places it on the desk. He flips through the pages slowly, one by one until he reaches the last. Then he takes a pen, hovering it above the straight black line on the bottom of the page. He takes one last deep breath and scribbles his name.

Everything after that happens in a dazed rush. He seals the sheets in an envelope and drops it in the mailbox. He walks into his bosses office with a hammering heart and when he emerges, he feels like he lost 50 kilos.

It takes some time, but not a lot and eventually it sickers through. He hears whispers, but ignores them. Then, one day Jackson is at the company and he’s not only their most popular artist, but also their noisiest one and he jumps on Youngjae’s back and whines. “You’re leaving usssss?” Mark, Jackson’s manager sighs exasperated and pulls his protégé off Youngjae’s body, setting him back to the ground. Youngjae likes them both and he’ll miss them. “Yeah.” He nods shyly. “But whhyyyy?!” Jackson wails, ignoring Mark who tries to shush him.

Youngjae breathes deeply. He hasn’t had to do this yet, hasn’t told anyone directly. “I found a different job.” He states and cracks a smile unwillingly. “That I really wanna do.” Jackson isn’t happy. “Who stole you?! YG?” He takes a ‘ready-to-fight’ – posture that makes Youngjae laugh. “No.” He shakes his head. “Nothing like that. I’m gonna be in the marketing department of a video game company.” It feels good to say. Jackson’s eyes grow large. “But you said writing music was your dream!” He cries. Youngjae is aware that more people are listening in and he finds he doesn’t mind.

“I think.” He says. “I’m better off keeping music as a hobby. And you know I love video games.” Jackson complains, but Youngjae sees Marks face twist into a soft smile. “Good for you.” He says, gentle voice the polar opposite to Jackson’s noisy one. Youngjae nods. “Thanks.”

„Is that really your choice?“ Youngjae halts in mid-air, halfway to stuffing a notebook into a box. Jaebum faked oblivious for the time being and now Youngjae‘s departure is official rather than „official“. He looks up, letting the notebook clumsily fall onto his other things. He nods, but doesn’t manage to squeeze out a word. Jaebum raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “’m sorry.” Youngjae mumbles, even though he’s not sure he knows what he’s apologizing for.

Jaebum steps closer. “What about your dream?” The scoff escapes Youngjae involuntarily. He means to take it back but Jaebum’s eyes sparkle and he smiles. Youngjae’s heart leaps and his throat closes up. Jaebum is really getting close. “Are you sure you made the right decision?” He asks, very quietly. Youngjae stares back at him. He wants to say yes, because that’s the whole point, but it won’t come out. Finally, after a long while he shakes his head. Jaebum’s smile stays perfectly in place.

“No.” It gives Youngjae the courage to say. “I’m not sure. I don’t know.” He stems his arms into his side a little childish. “But I’m tired of my dream.”

The piglet plops out of it’s dream bubble and climbs back down into it’s bed. The sun rises and it yawns when it awakes. Happily.

Jaebum moves in and wraps his arms around Youngjae’s body. His lips are right next to Youngjae’s ear when he whispers. “I’m glad you’re honest with yourself now.” It has him shiver, for a multitude of reasons and he hugs Jaebum back tightly. “Thank you so much.” He gives back, something sweet blooming in his chest. He half expects Jaebum to taunt him, teasingly ask ‘What for?’ but he doesn’t. He squeezes him once more, then backs away, though still holding onto Youngjae’s elbows. “I really hope you find your happiness.” He says with the utmost honesty. “But I’ll miss you.”

The happy feeling inside him receives a crack. Youngjae will miss him, too. They’re close, but it would be far-fetched to even call them friends. They never even met once outside of work and while they worked together a few times, including a fairytale-like tune that was sold as a jingle for a TV commercial and while they shared phone-numbers, they barely know anything about each other’s lives.

“Youngjae.” Jaebum says and he sounds a little breathless. “We’re not coworkers anymore now.” He pronounces it like a fact, not a question, but Youngjae still nods. “So the company rules… don’t apply any longer.” Youngjae frowns. Rules? He means to express his confusion, but he doesn’t get the chance. In a rash, hardly comprehensible motion he rushes in and their lips collide in the briefest of kisses. Youngjae’s heart explodes and when Jaebum is back in his original position, he feels breathless, too.

The company doesn’t allow coworkers to date. And while Youngjae mildly wonders if Jaebum chased him out for his own gain, he decides to inquire on that later. So before he can say anything else, Youngjae chimes in. “Yeah.” he whispers with a nod. He knew the piglet had a reason to wake up.

~*~

[andmoonlightswims]

the unexpected

↳ when that time of the month hijacks quality time with Niall

a/n:  i happened to see this particular instagram story of Niall’s on a day where i was seeking menstrual refuge with my heating pad. i had a lot of feelings regarding his keen vocalization on social media, evidently.

this one-shot is dedicated to my lovely @illbecomingbackforyou​ who occupies one of the few vip passes to hearing and entertaining some of my creative, and wacky ideas during whichever stage it’s in. love you ♥

Rating: T+ | Pairing: M/F ●⚤

*warning: contains candid descriptions of the menstruation experience, and a political discussion (with inserted quotes that are indeed..fake) that is left-wing/democratic leaning.

~*~

Soft voices from the television become more distinguishable once your body gradually stirs. The press conference with the British Prime Minister and the U.S. President is shortly underway; a BBC News anchor’s delivery is highly energized as they quickly pace through the mid-day headlines.

You let out a tiny exhale into the expanse of Niall’s lower bare chest that you’ve been soundly resting upon. It’s a gloomy afternoon in London, with the sun barely making a crack through the blinds of Niall’s bedroom windows. The ominous weather arrived shortly after returning from your Brunch date, beckoning for an easy opportunity to lose yourself in an afternoon nap that you are now semi-awake from.

With you visiting Niall in London for the next several days, your body not only has to assimilate to the weather, and time changes, but also the sudden, not-so-welcoming arrival of your period.

And Niall has been continuously gentle, patient and a great source of humor with you through your complex emotions of excitement, exhaustion, and desperation for particular food cravings.  For instance, deciding on the location for your Brunch outing felt like a no brainer in your mind once desire kicked into motion. You quickly raked through the side of Niall’s walk-in closet that occupied your clothing to find the comfiest set of lounge clothing to change into. (The cute outfits you spent time selecting to pack had barely been touched since the arrival of the red sea.) 

You settled on a royal blue Henley tank top, with a pastel pink floral hoodie overtop, and black leggings paired your trusted Nike trainers. Your restaurant of choice is a few shy steps away from Niall’s place. You just so happened to dine there the day prior, and Niall didn’t show a sign of disinterest in your repeated request. You couldn’t get enough of their extensive crêpe selection, and at this rate, you’re certain the restaurant staff is truly privy of that news as well.

Blame it on the sugar crash, or more so, general fatigue that consumes you during this time of the month – the pep in your literal steps was relinquishing as the two of you exited the restaurant. Niall wrapped an easy arm around your waist, practically guiding you toward the familiar trail of his home.

Before you’d fallen asleep along his black silk sheets, warmth was consuming your skin, leading to the removal of your hoodie. Freedom of that fleece left you in tank top that had the tendency to ride up your skin. Your lethargic mind can’t exactly recall when Niall became shirtless, but having near skin on skin contact with him is always welcome. If it wasn’t for your breasts’ current status of being aggressively tender, you would possibly consider sleeping topless. 

The last memory you recollect was Niall shyly asking if he could lightly massage that particular area of your lower stomach where cramps arise. You didn’t expect to wake up to the ongoing soothing graze of his fingers circulating along your exposed stomach, but this is Niall, after all – he’s dedicated to anything he set his mind to.

His assuring touch is an indescribable remedy to your afternoon cramps, dare you boldly say: practically rivalling your beloved heating pad.  You marvel in the feeling of utter relaxation, focusing on his dependent fingers as they operate in harmony; tenderly dipping into the plush of your skin. Seconds pass where you find yourself nuzzling into the home of his body, sleep effortlessly taking you once again.

~*~

When you fully wake up about forty-five minutes later, you ardently blink a few times before slowly tilting your head to sleepily peek at your boyfriend. A tightness in Niall's jaw is evident as he sits upright by your side; his attention is so immersed in the press conference that you’re surprised that he hasn’t ceased his gentle tendering to your body. Perhaps this intimate action inadvertently provides him comfort, too.

“Ni?” You gradually move up from his lower region; the sudden movement surprises him; his massaging fingers inharmoniously expand over your warm, soft skin.

Niall’s chest gently deflates when he looks at you. His intense blue-eyed gaze simmers to a doting one. It’s reminiscent of the moment he finally spotted you at the arrival terminal at Heathrow Airport two days prior. Your flight had undergone a two-hour delay; his wandering and worrisome stare drifted into a loving, relieved glimmer once his eyes finally met yours.

“Hi, love.” He places a soft peck along your forehead, his large circulating hand now firmly resting along your lower stomach. “Rest well?”

You tilt your head upward, connecting your lips with his in a kiss. His mouth is gentle, and you prolong the kiss, marvelling over his facial hair tickling your cheeks, humming into his mouth.

“Mmhm. Are you okay?” You whisper, an element of pleasure laced around your voice. A hand of yours feathers down the planes of his chest, and his breath fans over your lips. You’re now in tune with the emergence of your overly-eager hormones, and despise the obvious boundary that is in your way.

Niall nods a moment later. “Better with you bein’ awake.”

“Mmmhm.”

He keeps a careful eye on you as you settle your head along the lower region of his chest. You feel his fingers gently rub your back, and a low moan of gratitude leaves your lips. He loves to cater to the slight back pain you receive at this time of the month. “How’re you feelin’?”

Your nose trickles along his deep trail of abdominal hair and you begin to press kisses along his right pectoral muscles. “I’m okay, baby.”

Niall takes an extensive inhale, softly emoting your name seconds later. You want to memorize the sound of it - like the most heavenly part of a chorus that you wouldn’t mind hearing on repeat all night. The way you easily have Niall in the palm of your hand with every kiss you lay on his skin provides you with more reason to continue to love on him.

But during times of menstruation, with many comforting moment comes a plot twist. You found that you spoke your aforementioned affirmative words a bit too soon as it hits you.

Fuck.

Your enthusiastic lips pause along Niall’s skin as you wait for the red storm to settle – a thick blood clot passing through the depths of you. 

Not only does your period have the audacity to arrive two weeks earlier - right at the beginning of your trip to see Niall, mind you. But now, it couldn’t even grant you a moment of peace to love on your man? It’s a cruel world.

You’re fairly convinced that your feminine hygiene product of choice is fully saturated at this point, and that realization has you gently squirming along your boyfriend’s side; discomfort overshadowing any arousal you previously bared. What you now need is to cleanse, and change - immediately. The whine that escapes your lips vibrates against Niall’s chest.

His gentle voice interrupts your internal argument with your body.

“Y’alright, love?” Niall traces tender patterns along your upper arm. He begins to list items that he can help you get: a glass of water, crackers, ginger ale, medicine.

You gradually lean up from the resting pillow of his chest, hoping the smile you give him doesn’t appear too forced. While you earnestly appreciate his continuous consideration for you, you’d also adore a bathroom visit.

“I’m okay, thank you.” You assure him, your knees smoothly trudge along his silk sheets, towards him. Niall practically wraps you within his arms once you’re within eye-level with him.  His familiar and consuming scent is all you want to bask in, but..duty calls. “I just..have to use the bathroom, I’ll be back in a bit.” You place a peck on his cheek, doing a quick look-over of his silk sheets as you part from him.

“Hey, don’t worry about anythin’..” Niall’s tone is so gentle that it practically has you second guessing your inspection. He’s been persistent in not letting you harbor any concerns of possibly leaking, but you are hell bent on making sure that wouldn’t be a possibility. You loved his linen collection too much to leave a mark on ‘em. And admittedly, their price point does slightly intimidate you.

A few moments later, you dramatically lean against Niall’s master bathroom door, damning the act of bad timing. Niall’s casually looking like a Calvin Klein model as he lays shirtless with grey Nike Fleece Joggers. The scruff decorating his jawline is even thicker than when you last saw him. It might as well be screaming to make acquaintance with your inner thighs.

You cannot wait for your period to be over.

You peer at the few products on Niall’s scattered along his counter top: a facial cleanser, conditioning beard oil, his electric shaver - and make acquaintance with your toiletries bag alongside those products. 

The action of you unzipping the bag to retrieve your menstrual hygiene essentials couldn’t be more unenthusiastic.

Maybe prolonging the ordeal will magically make it disappear all together? 

You sigh at the ridiculous idea that you tossed around in your mind. 

You already know the answer to it.

~*~

After a quick replenishing, doing a swap of feminine hygiene products, and being somewhat pleased with your hair in its post-sleep state of mind, you re-enter Niall’s bedroom.

Your curious eyes are met with BBC News displaying highlights from the political leader joint press conference. You turn your focus towards Niall, finding him adamantly typing on his phone; from his indignant facial features, you know the subject matter is likely pertaining to a particular leader.

You lean against the master bathroom door’s frame, quirking a brow at Niall.

“I’m surprised you’re watching this.” You murmur.

Niall sighs, running his empty hand through his tousled hair. “Didn’t plan on it,” He explains, placing his phone back on his nightstand.

He lays his eyes on you as you wander back to your side of the bed. “But..I jus’ had to hear what’s bein said, petal. Yet, it all jus’ gets me so fuckin’ angry, feels like an endless cycle...”

You let out a sound of sympathy before taking a swig of the water by your designated nightstand. “I know, babe.”

Once you’re within closer reach, Niall brings you into the familiar space of his arms. You mark a kiss along his neck before nervously gazing at the absurdity occurring on Niall’s television screen.

The voice of the 45th President of the United States practically surges through your eardrums as he answers a reporter’s question. You can’t help but wince. Has his voice always been this grating, or was this your period operating alongside your body to impose an even stronger bias against him?

“Well, listen.” The President attempts to seem nonchalant in his demand, but in reality, he appears evidently close to having a full on temper tantrum, if the vein popping out of his neck has anything to say.

His hands are frozen in the air as he prepares to undoubtedly denounce someone. “When I left my hotel earlier today - stayed at The InterContinental London Park Lane - great staff...meh, food could've been better...” He croaks on, and his infantile behavior reminds you of why you barely sit through his speeches. “I only saw a small protest of people.”  

He clears his throat, unnecessarily emphasizing the supposed gathering size with a showing of a small finger gesture. “A small one!” He pauses for unwarranted emphasis. “All reports and tweets..” He elongates his pronunciation of these terms, rolling his eyes when he says them, as if the idea of something existing in opposition of him is ludicrous. “...about larger protests are nothing but fake news.”

A gruff laugh escapes Niall’s lips. “He only hears and sees what he wants - there’s 250,000 protesters on the street as we speak.”    

You cuddle further into him, nodding along his jaw. You love Niall’s enthusiasm for politics, and social justice - especially during a time that is so tumultuous and in dire need of true societal change. 

He has enough combative nature igniting with him for the both of you, which is appreciative during this very moment - where you’re in the early stages of your period and very content with being wrapped up in your boyfriend, and not utilizing your energy on the President of the United States.

“Never seen a more incompetent leader in all of my days...” Niall continues on, maintaining a gentle caress of your waist. 

As his mouth becomes fouler in language, his accent grows thicker. “..Fuckin’ ridiculous - what he stands for, and the lack of effort he puts into what actually needs to be done for the country. Doesn’t even realize the international ripple effect of it all, too.”

Niall shakes his head, grabbing his television remote to lower down the volume exponentially. With the remote now residing on his nightstand, he runs a hand over his thick scruff before landing his gaze on you.

“M’sorry,” His voice is much gentler as he focuses on you. “We don’t have to talk about this right now.”

Your fingers reach out to caress his cheek, toying with his facial hair.

“I love how unapologetically vocal you are with this,” you shake you head in wonderment. “It’s..amazing. And your willingness to step outside of yourself, acknowledge your privilege and utilize it to learn and be an ally is..just..” you pause your words, caught up by the intensity of his stare. When you continue on, your voice is a faint whisper, and Niall is hanging onto your every word. “Makes me love you even more than I already do.”

“Love me, huh?” A smile grazes his lips, and you can’t help but stare at those luscious lips of his. Well, all of this doesn’t just make you love Niall even more than you already do - it also drives you absolutely ravenous for him; surging an arousal back to into you.

“I love you too,” His nose grazes yours, and you lightly tug onto his hair, wanting his lips on yours.

He playfully dodges your wish, his scruff tickling your cheeks once he shakes his head. “Can’t give me all tha’ praise - you’ve been of great help in understandin’ certain topics.”

You let out a gleeful sigh against the small bit of space between his lips and yours. The onslaught of discussions regarding reproductive and intersectional rights play through your mind.

“Oh, I know..I was waiting for you to give me some credit.” A husky laugh leaves his lips over your coy save.

“Yeah?” Niall’s tone is lower, his accent thick now due to uncontainable desire. “Bet you were.”

His lips finally catch yours in a kiss that he hums into. One moment, his lips are drawing you in, leaving your breathless with his urgency, and the next, he’s bringing the two of you to a calming pause.

“Jus’ wanna..” he trails, gently shifting your body along his silk sheets, so he now remains atop of you.

Niall gnaws at his bottom lip, his eyes deviating from your longing gaze to his left hand that expands along its now beloved resting position on your lower stomach. “Didn’t wanna provoke anythin’..”

“You didn’t,” your tone is light, reassuring. “Just kiss me.”

The languid direction of the kisses that Niall leads has you slipping away from previous thoughts that neared toxic masculinity, and its exploitative ways, and into a safe space of desire that Niall always manages to sink you into.

The warmth of his mouth is intoxicating, making it an effortless for your tongue to glide against his. Your clothed legs intertwine with the cool, lightweight fabric of the joggers that dawn his lower body; his warm, calloused hands are caressing your skin underneath your loose tank top, and now you’re the one pliant in his hands. Your fingertips relish in the constant caress of his thick scruff, memorizing the texture of it as your kisses approach messier territory.

A familiar knotting sensation returns to your lower body, making a more so pained whimper of yours sound against Niall’s eager mouth.

“S’it back?” He whispers along your parted lips, as if your menstrual cramps have the power of hearing him. You shouldn’t give them the benefit of the doubt, they probably can.

You huff out an irritated breath at the turn of events, your heart rate settling as you transition from a steamy moment to casual dread. “Not completely?” you ponder, setting a small distance between the two of you. 

Somewhere along the time of Brunch where you were devouring crêpes and stealing a few of Niall’s chips, you took a tablet of your trusted menstrual medication. And it was working efficiently - until now. “Occasionally, they like to remind me that they’re around - right about now is horrible timing...”

Niall’s giant hands cascade toward the softness of your waist in a rather protective fashion. “‘M’sorry.”

You shake your head, defeatedly falling further into his fluffy pillows. “No, I’m sorry. I thought things would be different during my stay.” You feel a cramp igniting and run a lazy hand on your lower stomach before elaborating. “Like more convenient than this, I guess.”

Niall murmurs your name softly, reaching to cup your cheek.

“Hey, s’nothing to apologize for; you’re here, s’more than I could ask for,” His thumb rubs tiny circles along the centre of your cheek as he assures you. “M’here for it all: the good, the bad, the unexpected. I know you can take care of y’self, but I wanna help wherever you see fit. Okay?”

You nod, turning your cheek to leave a peck along his wrist. His reassuring nature makes you feel foolish for caving into particular insecurities, and now you just want to wash that moment of weakness away.

“Okay, m’here for it all too,” you affirm, a smile forming on your lips. “The long golf games...your collection of tweed newsboy hats..”

Niall gives your waist a tiny pinch.

“’Cause of that, I’ll wear ‘em for the rest of your time w’me - including indoors.”

You shout out in playful disdain, though your laughter gets cut short. Niall has your full attention as he ventures his body down to the very spot he was nurturing you with massages for the past two hours. His voice is gruff, quiet. “Mind if I try somethin’ else to help out?”

Being more than willing to let him provide restoration to your body, you vocalize approval. He unexpectedly greets your lower stomach with an expanse of gentle kisses.

The calming, continuous attention he provides to your body places you in a realm of serenity for the next minute..10 minutes..half hour? Who quite frankly knows?

That interrupting set of cramps you felt however long ago has since drifted, setting some ease to your previous worries. Allowing you to reach a content state of mind as you vocally gleam over how his lips, teeth and tongue love on this incredibly intimate, and truly underrated part of your body. Your hands reach down to capture his chestnut tousled strands; whenever you’d grip a bit tighter, he would suck longer along a patch of your skin.

Niall brings a slowing halt to his intense series of kisses, the contrast between the softness of your skin, and the rough texture of his facial hair feels as serene as you could imagine.

“Adore ya, y’know tha’?” He mumbles against your stomach so quietly that you wonder if you were actually meant to hear these words. His sentimental words vibrate along your skin. “Want nothin’ more than to keep you safe.”

A gentle exhale and expression of love leaves your lips. An onslaught of emotion consumes you, and you have this itching desire to sob, which you can’t really blame the unpredictability of your period on. You tenderly massaging his scalp as he relaxes his head on your upper stomach.

This time of the month is a moment where Niall could so easily pull away, but he’s shown you time and time again how that’s not apart of his nature.  The way he embraces you in these moments has you resetting your mind that men aren’t hopeless. Okay, you backpedal, maybe the majority of them are - but he’s one of the great ones, and he also yours, which is another factor that is beyond you. 

You find that you could tolerate particular components of this particular time of the month if you always had a remedy like Niall. Cause by the looks of it, he’s practically imprinted on your skin.

~*~

thank you for reading! leave me your thoughts & find the rest of my writing here ♥

[mahreemari]

mari’s collection of perfectly safe 2nu goodness

collection of safe 2nu fics i filtered through both ffn and ao3 to find. will be a total of four to five separate postings. first will be completed works on ffn, ao3, and then the incomplete works in the same posting order. 

if i made a mistake, please notify me asap so i can fix the list, i tried my best but i’m just one person and something might slip my eye by accident. at the same time, if there is a fic that i missed, please let me know so i can add it! as well as new publications. suggestions to improve the list are appreciated. 

noodle must be 19/20 minimal during the romance period in order for the fic to be included. any underage is prohibited. 

here are all the completed works from ffn:

Rated K/K+:

Behind the Mask – Rated K+ –  After a four-year absence, Noodle has finally returned but what is she hiding behind the mask she wears? 2DxNoodle

Black Eyes, Blue Hair – Rated K+ – Noodle's view on her blue haired bandmate. Rated K

Blue Haired, Green Eyed Freak – Rated K+ –  Murdoc may have gone too far. He has made a clone, named Natalie, using 2D and Noodle's DNA, and it's convinced it's their daughter. 2DxNoodle pairing. Be gentle, my first Gorillaz fic. Please read! COMPLETE.

Early Conversations – Rated K – Just a short story that came from I and Cooliochick5 RP. Noodle is six months pregnant and wakes up finding 2D talking to their unborn child. Pure fluffiness!

English Rose – Rated K – "You know very early on where you belong and who you're meant to be with, 'D. That's not something that can ever change. Those people and places will always come back." 2nu.

Far, Far Away – Rated K+ – For a while, both 2D and Noodle have been sad, have been in pain...but finally, after being reunited on Plastic Beach, Noodle confesses to 2D what she's been thinking about for a long, long time...

Nightmare – Rated K+ – Noodle's had another nightmare. And this time, she's made herself bleed. A bit of a 2DxNoodle, but more brother/sister. First 2Nu fic! Noodle's POV

The Steadfast Black-eyed Soldier – Rated K – Some sort of the re-telling of the 1976s cartoon "The Steadfast Tin Soldier", but with "Gorillaz" characters on the roles.

unconventional – Rated K+ – For a couple years and a half, they lived in Honeymoon Avenue until Noodle had to leave again. Almost five years later, she's close to accomplish her mission and more than ready to go home. / An "end of phase 4" family reunion.

You Are My Medicine – Rated K – 2D always needed his pills to take care of his migraines. But someone can also take the migraines away from him too.

Your the Best Present – Rated K – It's 2D's birthday! And of course 2D forgets that it is his birthday. But Noodle is also sad about something. Sorry, summary sucks.

Rated T:

A Midsummer's Wedding – Rated T – Noodle is getting married... but not to 2D. And he's not taking it very well, poor guy.

A Step Too Far – Rated T – Noodle catches the end of an argument between 2D and Murdoc. One that ends with 2D punching Murdoc and in trying to figure out what happened she learns of Paula. Confronting 2D about it seems like the only way to get answers even if they lead to an unexpected ending.

Bleeding Out – Rated T – "FACEACHE! Faceache, holy shit!" Murdoc yelled, pulling him from his bunker to the lift. "What? What's going on?" 2D squeaked, following the bassist. "It's- It's Noodle! Somethin' ain't right with her!" (2nu-centric, but not actually 2nu.)

Blimey, You're TwentyOne Already! – Rated T – It's Noodle's birthday and she has a special request. What on earth is 2D going to do?

En Route to the Vending Machine – Rated T – En Route to the Vending Machine that I'm Pretty Sure Doesn't Even Exist. Yep. That's all.

Fisticuffs And Frozen Peas – Rated T – Murdoc Niccals has the innate ability to get on the wrong side of everyone. Picking a fight is just the way he communicates. But picking a fight with Noodle? that's a different story. Contains some 2DxNoodle fluff, Oneshot. R&R xX

Gravity – Rated T – Oneshot. 6 years have passed since the release of Plastic Beach and the band reunited. Everything is going great and the Gorillaz are enjoying being together again as they prepare to release their new album. But what happens when 2D finds a letter to him inviting him to Paula's funeral? What will he find when he gets there? And more importantly, what had Paula been hiding from him?

I Promise – Rated T – It wasn't until 2D's head began to feel extremely light, and his eyes rolled back until he realized what he was doing, but there was no turning back now. Warning: Suicide Attempt and Aftermath

Just Say The Words – Rated T – 2D has a special surprise planned for his beloved Noodle and something to ask her. But it seems that he just can't find the time or place to tell her.

Louder Than Words – Rated T – '...They both felt safe and happy with each other...But now she was feeling an old worry tug at her mind's corners again…' The small trials and triumphs of a new relationship. 2DxNoodle. One shot, rated due to mild fluff.

May 23, 2011 – Rated T – Her presence in this stoic world he'd created sent him into an emotional spiral that brought about the worst of his migraines. The emotional detachment he'd grown fond of now mocked him, & he was forced to hold his tongue because it was too hard to speak.

May 23rd – Rated T – It's 2-D's birthday, but no one remembers, well, almost no one.

Melancholy Hill No More – Rated T – Noodle had always been good at finding 2D's secret spots... 2DxNoodle

Memories and Chocolate Pudding – Rated T – A short story I wrote as a request from a friend. She wanted a cute story that had to do with Phase 1 Noodle and 2D, something brother and sister like. Of course I added my own 2DxNoodle touch in the end. 10 years later of course. ; Enjoy.

No Rain – Rated T – If Noodle stays with him, then he's really gonna have it made! 2DxNoodle Song Fic.

Nursing a Flu – Rated T – 2D is sick, but he has a certain guitarist to take care of him.

Plastic Beach: Phase Three – Rated T – A 22 page story we had to type for my English class. It could be about anything we wanted so I chose this. 2DxNoodle.

Something's Up at the Spirit House – Rated T – Something is very wrong with the Gorillaz new home, and it's driving 2D mad. Will he and his bandmates be able to handle the mysterious forces at work at Saturnz Barz? A story to tie together the music videos and events of phase 4. Will be a little silly, a little eerie, and contain a dash of 2/nu.

The Meaning Of - Salt Skin Drafts – Rated T - A series of one-shots revolving around 2D and Noodle and the growth of their relationship between phases 2 and 3. Would-be continuations to my discontinued story Salt Skin. Friendship/Eventual Pairing.

Ups and Downs – Rated T – Noodle and 2-D both have strong feelings for eachother, but can there relationship take the challenges life throws at them? 2-DxNoodle COMPLETE!.

When You’re Close to Me – Rated T – Noodle has returned home to her boys, and is ready to face the feelings she'd had while away.

Rated M:

A Look I Used To Know – Rated M – He bit his lip as his eyes returned to her, studying her unsure movements while she tried to ignore his presence as he watched her. He felt his heart ache as she stood to her feet, the dejection in her body unclear to most was a scream in Stuart's ears...

A Simple Understanding – Rated M – Their grief was eating away at them, but all it took to save them was a simple understanding of feelings. 2DXN

Another Story – Rated M – This is not based in kong nor plastic beach. In fact this is just based between 2D and Noodle. Russel and Murdoc are mentioned but not by name. Please read and review!

Awake – Rated M – After a night out, 2-D awakes with a familiar face next to him, and very little memory of what happened the night before. A 2Nu fic. Rated M for strong language and sexual content.

Confessions – Rated M – 2D wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk threatening to break out. "Yeh think yeh better than meh?" Noodle scoffed. "Of course I am, 2D, I could beat you at any game you throw at me." She tried to ignore the fact that he had edged much closer that he was previously sitting. "Well," 2D breathed. Noodle swore she could feel his breath tickling her face. "Wah 'bout this one?" STRONG LANGUAGE

Just Passing Through – Rated M – A reunion between two band members after four years apart. 2DxNoodle. Rated M

Plastic Beach Romancing – Rated M – 1st fanfic ever! Yay. Everyone from the Gorillaz. So Noodle makes it to Plastic Beach and finds 2D just before he overdoses. I'd love to get comments please. Noodlex2D! 3

Reuniting – Rated M – To make matters worse, somehow, some way without Noodle's consent or knowledge, the three men had thought it would be amazing to vacation in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, while staying in a log cabin of all things. This is a gift fic for WreckTangle. Rated M for sex...you've been warned. 2DxNoodle. O.o

She's My Collar – Rated M – Noodle and 2D have a secret that they feel has been kept long enough. They want to figure out a way to tell the others and come up with something rather creative. When Russel and Murdoc hear the lyrics to "She's my Collar" for the first time what will their reaction be? Can 2D and Noodle defend themselves or will their secret affair become just a memory? Rated M.

That One Day – Rated M – This fan fic has the song "Girl Gone Wild" in it by Madonna because it fits the plot lol. There is also an outside character by the name of Marcus that is mentioned. Rated M for lots of sexual scenes lol. Enjoy!

The Rube Goldberg Effect – Rated M – Poll winner! 2D has fallen asleep on Plastic Beach. His back now lobster red, he's in desperate need of relief. A hot summer day, a sunbite, a bottle of Aloe, and a bathing suit covered body. So what's Noodle have to do with this?... Aloe can be fun, too

[missolitude]

Vinnie and Ursula for the ship thing :)

Ask Meme

Who said “I love you” first

Vincent does.The feeling is so strong and unquenchable it’s eating him up inside and he thinks he might die of his burning soul were he not to confess it, not to turn all of his insides out. She needs to hear, needs to know what he feels. He plans it all out, word for word, the setting, the poem he would read to her that reflects everything he feels. And he does and Ursula’s reaction almost scares him he wasn’t prepared, she bursts into tears and she is trembling, and she cannot respond for a long period of time. He merely holds and soothes her, and she tightens her grip. He tells her over and over that he won’t leave, that he loves her, and slowly she looks up at him, her eyes all red and swollen and she loosens her grip, she is too exhausted and that’s when he picks her up and carries her into the bedroom, and they just hold onto each other through the night. He knows. He understands. He won’t leave.

Who would have the other’s picture as their phone background

Vincent would. And he will also use her picture as practice to sketch her when he can. That’s his excuse anyway - not that he needs one. He knows her face and her beautiful lines by heart. He just always wants to surprise her with new techniques, and she is his muse. He often tells her that too, but she only blushes and chuckles like a young maiden.

Who leaves notes written in fog on the bathroom mirror

Vincent. It’s just a silly thing to do, he knows that, and she would have to clean the mirror again, he knows that too. But sometimes he just can’t help himself. Anything to make her smile. And she does.

Who buys the other cheesy gifts

They don’t have the budget, every gift is carefully chosen, lovingly wrapped, full with meaning and intention. But Vincent always keeps buying more flower seeds for Ursula. He knows she loves seeing them bloom in her garden and he would do anything to see her happy. Besides, all of the flowers can be resown and mixed and he will spend most of his free time to research.

Who initiated the first kiss

Ursula needed Vincent’s confidence and his eagerness to get there but she wanted it just as much. Would she have acted without Vincent’s initiation? No. She was a widow, an older woman, filled with darkness, best focused on other things, things that are more important than living out a juvenile fantasy about a young artist seducing her and sweeping her off her feet. She thought of herself as deeply undesirable, in her mind she had no talents, nothing to offer. She couldn’t believe that this young man even looked at her twice. But that evening he met her in her darkness, he saw her, he didn’t try to fix her, he didn’t push her towards the light, he merely… met her there and held her hand. More than that, he kissed her so passionately she thought she might burst. It was everything she wanted and it scared her. It scares her still. He was that man who would finally ruin her and she knew it. It didn’t change that she wanted it all.

Who kisses the other awake in the morning

Ursula does sometimes during the weekend, since she has time to sleep in, but she doesn’t want to wake him at all. Thankfully he’s a heavy sleeper. He sometimes works late in the night to finish a painting and she respects his creative process. She just hovers over him sometimes like a guardian angel and pulls up his blanket, kisses his forehead and reads until he wakes and they have sex or cuddle. She can never ever tire of the smile that overcomes him when he wakes and lies his eyes on her. His entire being lights up. And she feels loved.

Who starts tickle fights

Vincent does. He knows Ursula is very ticklish. Sometimes he gets the timing right and she succumbs to his tickling in other ways, and they both get to lie in next morning.

Who asks who if they can join the other in the shower

Ursula will always have the ultimate reign here. Vincent doesn’t always have a fixed schedule but Ursula does. The initial reason for it is to save water. Of course that thought gets dropped when Ursula does invite him in and they get the most out of it, and sometimes carried away. Vincent will smother Ursula with soap and kisses and back rubs and all kinds of things Ursula has never experienced. Suffice to say she will want to invite him more often after that, and she cannot even care to justify it with rational reasons.

Who surprises the other in the middle of the day at work with lunch

Vincent will drop by often since he has a flexible schedule. He might not drop by with lunch since Ursula cooks for everyone in the house and she needs to do it anyways, so he will take advantage of that every once in a while. But he will bring her her favorite dessert. Flowers. Kisses and love. He just wants to see her during the day. And be a part of her meals since they are delicious. But he also wants to see her. Mostly.

Who was nervous and shy on the first date

They are both equally nervous. They both are… inexperienced when it comes to dates. But Vincent will say something absolutely silly and dorky and it will make Ursula laugh and feel at ease. And it will break the ice. Then at some point Vincent would just put his palm over Ursula’s hand and they would look into each other’s eyes. And everything would slow down and they would know this was just them. And why they are here. Ursula knows, Vincent has seen her soul, she can’t do anything to put him off. And in the gaze of their eyes they will get a hold of each other’s hearts.

Who kills/takes out the spiders

They aren’t that kind of couple. Ursula has been living alone for many years, she can deal with spiders. And Vincent is probably too distracted to even see them. Spiders are not the enemy. Narrator voice off.

Who loudly proclaims their love when they’re drunk

They both like to indulge a little. Ursula will get more affectionate and loving, Vincent will head to his art supplies straight away, his style will get a bit more daring when he’s tipsy. Think Titanic nude drawings. They will do this more often after this point.

[5questions]

Joselia Hughes

Joselia "Jo" Hughes is a Black 1.5-generation Cuban-Jamaican-Guyanese-American writer and artist from the Bronx. She lives with Sickle Cell Disease (HBSC) and ADHD.

Where did you find the 3rd grade poem? How did you decide to include it? What other collage or found art/poetry do you like?

The 3rd grade poem was from a collection of student works, Witch’s Brew, released by my grammar school, Horace Mann. I have two issues from 2nd and 3rd grades. Both of my works were quartered in the “Fantasy” section. There was another section called “Feelings” and, I think, The Sky more accurately suggests a feeling. Scratch that: it explicitly discusses a feeling. This misidentification by academic administration/curatorial staff (which doubles as a political demonstration) is telling. I think it explains a lot about the root confusion between what I have felt/feel to know as Experientially True versus what I’m told to know as The Truth. When considering the emotional and material lives of Black femmes, we must remember Black femmes have been historically disallowed, disavowed and dispossessed of creative virtuosity. Too often, we are strapped in the monolith of stereotyped caricature dictated by the manifested destiny written into commandments/constitution of misogynoir. Black femme virtuosity is reappropriated, regesticulated and worn like some earned bloody body wisdom by the Opps (Oppressive Forces). While I didn’t have those terms as a child, I experienced the consequences of misogynoir in conjunction with dis/ableism and classism, which aren’t separate entities but necessary vices that amplify asphyxiation. Is disabled Black femme loneliness only permissible when classified as fantasy? That shit don’t sit right in my spirit. I also used the poem because the title is Witch’s Brew and my zine, Heartbeats But No Air (HBNA), is a kind of exorcism. A few years ago, I pieced together that my maternal grandmother was a covertly practicing Bruja. With the widening reclamation of ancestral wisdom by BIPOC, in an effort to decolonize our existences, I was tapping into that tender tendon of wisdom.

Understanding my grandmother’s practice reminded me that she wanted to name me Darthula Verbena (daughter of God, enchanting and medicinal). I started referring to myself as DV, my pre-name, and inspected my childhood. That’s been a remarkable endeavor. I had to teach myself to play again. Through play, I learned how to feel. Learning feeling meant learning the qualitative and quantitative nature of the labyrinth of my thoughts. Once I learned some of the turns of the labyrinth, I could feel to know how to navigate the terrain without fear and engage in the rigorous study that’s always characterized my central self. Play is a code switch. I often think of code switching as a means to subvert/refigure power differentials. To hide in plain sight by retooling “seeing” to perception/sensing. How much are we perceiving/sensing? How often do we mean perception/sensing yet default to “sight”? Perception/Sensing adds dimensionality that isn’t always articulated with and through “sight” and “seeing”. Ralph Ellison’s identification of “lower frequencies” and J. Halberstam’s configurations of Low Theory do this work. I toy with these multiplicities in the zine. I work low to the ground which means I work close to my heartbeat, my central drum. I work meta; I go beyond. I like to sprinkle codes, tickle clues, tuck in questions, sew in wisdoms so I know what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, who I’m doing it for and to always remember the fun of FLiP (Feeling, Learning, iPlaying).

Some of the works/folks who’ve helped me FLiP are Dana Robinson’s meditative and piercing collages; Zulie’s mind bending, heart wrenching, time suspending zines; Nikki Wallschlaeger’s I HATE TELLING YOU HOW I REALLY FEEL; Seth Graham’s tattoo practice/paintings/unbounded love of outer space (they’ve done 3/4 of my tattoos); Amanda Glassman’s razor sharp poetry and encyclopedic curiosity;  L’Rain's music has literally helped me scale the side of a mountain and carried me through hospitalizations; KT PE Benito’s multidisciplinary liberation praxis and collaborative friendship; Zoraida Ingles' holistic creative prowess (a conversation with her is why Heartbeats But No Air, as a title, exists); and Marcus Scott Williams’ writings/video/sculpture work that readily embraces the persistence of ephemera. This isn’t an exhaustive list—I have a solid library of books and papers and zines and tunes at my crib—but, genuinely, I’m inspired by everyone I’ve had the honor to encounter.

There are themes of love and race and beauty and culture and self-transformation in this book. Paired randomly, some pieces may not make as much common sense together, but as a whole, it feels powerful and cohesive. What was the structuring process like for this chapbook? Each zine is different, right?

It is one zine. I find it cool that you consider HBNA a chapbook made up of many zines. The word chapbook had never crossed my mind. I walked into the process with DIY zine logic and HBNA was printed using office photocopiers. I think the feeling of cohesion you mention is what happens when you witness a lot of parts of one person. In this case, you’re witnessing a lot of different parts of me, my thoughts, my actual labor. Whole is the goal ‘cuz people are whole. I am whole. I consider HBNA a single revolution of myself— one big twirl around a fire, a sun. I was in a very strange place. I’d alleviated, with the help of acupuncture and CBD products, a significant amount of the chronic pain I’d been experiencing since August 2014. I fell around love with someone and rose in love to myself (thanks Ms. Morrison and Ms. Stanford!). I was in an unfamiliar painless trance. I created and tinkered with all of those pieces during a very short period of time from Summer 2017 to Summer 2018. HBNA was originally named Girl Pickney (the prose pieces were written under that moniker) and before that NggrGrl (a nod to Dick Gregory). I wrote the poetry in an even shorter period of time—March to July 2018—and the poems are actually part of a full length collection that I wrote in those four months. I didn’t decide on the layout of the zine until I was with two friends formatting it for printing two days before I was going to read at The Strand and sell it. I kept all the pages, the puzzle pieces, in a folder. A lot of book structuring, for me, is based on emotional knowing—when to slap, when to pound, when to breathe, when to confuse, when to stun, when to anger, when to tell, when to soothe. All of my structuring decisions are fly about to get swatted dead but fast enuf to fly away first intuitive. If I’m channeling that intuition, I know I’m in running in the proper heat and lane.

You were in an MFA program at one point. How does this chapbook contrast with your style from before that program and during that program? Did that program have an effect on your writing? This doesn’t feel like the most MFA-y writing, which is why I ask, and which I mean as a compliment.

I’ve attended a few schools. I’ve completed fewer than I’ve attended. Until my late 20s, I was shy and desperate for people, those noun-verbs, to stay. This desire for people to stay meant I spent an inordinate about of time and energy relegating the difficult parts of myself to the margins of the margins and continually stepped into social/academic shoes that did not fit. HBNA was the first fitting of the bespoke shoes I can now emotionally afford to make. The first copies I sold had typos! I misspelled my own pre-name and that’s exactly what I needed to happen. It needed it to happen because I’m full of mistakes and yet! I try! I understand HBNA as a radical refutation of embarrassment. Depending on when you purchased a copy, you’ll see I used white-out to make a few corrections. No two zines are the same; only 80 copies exist. I’m printing 12 more copies (they’ve already been claimed) and then on to new pastures! The zine was printed in three different places (two offices I don’t work in and a local printing shop) and I was lugging around 800 individual sheets of paper that I stapled, numbered, indexed and decorated with stickers by myself…standing barefoot on the carpet of Staples in Co-Op City, listening to Ryo Fukui’s Early Summer on repeat until I finished and then I jetted to the Strand to read. HBNA was how I knew to embody my physical, emotional, intellectual, and spiritual labor. I’m a goofball with zany ideas, an indifference to external definitions of relevancy, sickled cells and a lot of chaotically grounding love. I write for myself first. Of the school lessons I did receive and learn, there weren’t many I didn’t later disassemble to rebuild, freak unfamiliar or completely misunderstand. J. Halberstam calls this “failing”. Rejigging failure has been such a gift to me. How wonderful! A failure AND still happening? Fuck yeah! I was a wildly uneven student whose knees buckled at mere thought of rigid academic authority. After years of shame and refusal, I can finally admit I am an autodidact. I intentionally get lost and navigate in and to the direction of my own senses. School didn’t teach me to write for myself and that’s who I always have to write for. If that’s selfish, so be it. I am my first audience. If I’m sus of me, then me and myself got foundational problems. I know my writing is non-institutional and that lack of institutional alignment and support, while scary as shit, pushes me to make and take risks to believe beyond the immediate demands/plans/remands of whatever external force I am facing. My writing is constantly colliding into A New I can’t predict. I’m fully committed to unfolding, unraveling, for curiosity’s sake.

What’s a typical day like for you?

My day to day life is as predictable as it is unpredictable. I am formally unemployed and have been for awhile. I live on very little cash and am kept afloat because my mom is a gem and hasn’t kicked me out. My days are 100% influenced by the weather and I spend a good portion of my time negotiating how to minimize the occurrence of vaso-occlusive crises and other complications from the disease I have, Sickle Cell. Between January 2018 and January 2019, I was hospitalized three times. Each hospitalization was about a week long and recovery took significantly longer.

Here’s a sketch of what I call a really great day: I wake up before 10. If the night’s sleep was especially restorative, I can comfortably rise at 8. Depending on how my body feels, depending on how much pain I’m enduring, how much fatigue is shrouding/clouding my faculties, I decide if I have the energy to take a shower. I do the bathroom routine, get a cup of orange juice and take my medications (Endari, sometimes Adderall, Folic Acid). I use the first hours of wakefulness to connect with loved ones via text-phonecalls-DMs and browse the internet for headlines-news-updates-new smiles. I wear my fits comfortable. I call comfort my uniform—upend normcore to body sensible—sweatpants/leggings, pullover, one earring (although I’m leaning to pairs again), handy dandy baseball cap and sneakers. I keep it simple. If the weather is aight—if it isn’t too cold or too hot and if precipitation is mostly at bay and air quality isn’t extremely poor—I go outside and get some living exercise. When able, I take extremely long walks. Once I walked over 50 miles in a week! It’s my preferred form of meditation. Walking/body movement grounds my ADHD symptoms more effectively than stimulants, strengthens my body for potential Sickle Cell episodes and satiates my unyielding need to feel connected to other people. I’m at my best when outside and happening. Illness can create an inescapable interiority. Inside reminds me of the hospital and my relationship with the hospital is, at best, fraught. Walking allows me to follow myself. I engage in peek-a-boo with babies, witness accidents, smile at strangers, duck the eyes of leering people and learn how to love differently too. I go to playgrounds and swing. I take photos and notes. If I’ve got a lil cash, I ride the subway for fun. I poke into shops, admire graffiti and other street signs. I have one woman dance parties on sidewalks. I rest on park benches and read. I pick up grub from hole in the wall spots—you know—I live my life and embrace as much as I can while centering kindness and gentle flow. The walks are my favorite part of my job, which I do not have. When I return home, I rest then get to crafting which I sometimes call spelling. Crafting/Spelling can be anything from adding to my I-Box, spitting verses from the abstract (poetry), spinning short stories, detailing journal entries, doodling, painting, knitting, researching & studying,  dancing & stretching, bugging out on Twitter or reading. My bedroom is my studio so I work small yet widely. I intentionally provide myself with many targets so I can a) keep my thoughts and feelings flowing b) find the connections between all of my actions and c) mitigate the stress that sits in the heart of a lone project. I am a multifaceted, multifauceted being. Why not turn on all the taps?

The more long form prose pieces in here have the feel of nice punch-y flash fiction. Are you writing a fiction collection without poems and collage in it? I want to read that, too :)

Hahaha! You’re onto me! Yeah, I am writing another book of poems, a manifesto zine and a collection of fiction. I’ve been writing a collection of fiction since 2012. I had a lot of the difficultly writing the fiction because I was too attached to the title, the characters I conceived needed to grow up with me, and I experienced many years of unremitting and improperly managed mental and physical illness. I was holding onto and telling lies. The shame woven into those lies kept me silent and scared. All of that shit needed to get integrated or dropped. I couldn’t enter the prose/fiction I’m currently writing without learning how to survive myself and the world and bottom-belly-believe in survival too. I’m getting there— healing with primary, secondary and tertiary intentions. Won’t say much about the fiction pieces of than: ~15 stories, lyrically speculative fiction, capital B Black, disabled, and queerfemme parables of creation and destruction and maintenance. My website is in flux but I do readings and performances. Hit me up on Instagram , Twitter or email me at joseliawrites@gmail.com. Might take a minute for me to respond because I’m thoughtful yet questionably organized. Now go play, ya’ll!

Unintentionally wrote a poem in the interview. I call it A.B.B in Lieu of A.B.C

beyond

fly, about to get swatted dead but fast enuf to fly away first,

always believe beyond