#me practising for my champagne experiment

[m-ayo-o]

thinking of throat training with the jjk men…

18+ smut explicit fellatio - deepthroating : reader with varying experience. to those who have no gag reflex, this may not apply

Toji

What throat training? If you can't deepthroat he's not interested. If you said you could then you can.

“Baby, don't fuck about. I'm not sitting around here getting my dick sucked by some kitten–”

You choke on him one more time and you feel his hand on the back of your neck.

“Loosen your throat. Like you're yawning–” he pulls you in and you're amazed that it doesn't stop this time. You've done it before, but you were just struggling with his… girth.

“That's– more like it.”

He sinks past the barrier of your throat and finally gets what he wants. With tears littering your cheeks and your hair tugged into a ponytail he fucks your throat.

“Atta girl, keep breathin’- knew you could do it– looked hot choking on my dick though, maybe I should fuck around with less experienced girls more often, hm. Oh, you would like that? Uh huh? Can't talk with your throat stuffed, tell me later.”

Satoru

He was so good about this. Getting into a sexual relationship with Satoru Gojo was an experience. He's demanding, needy, impatient, but at the same time incredibly sweet and sensitive.

So of course he let you take your time with mastering deepthroating. You were pretty good to start with, and he's honestly taken back by your determination… since he's so long.

“Baby, ngh– th-that’s far enough– oh, oh my g–od!!”

You know he adores regular blowjobs– being sucked off and licked gets him perfectly dizzy, but you wanna make him see the fucking stars.

So you've been practising (with a dildo ofc you're not a cheater).

“H-how– how are you doing that, princess??”

You pull away for a big gasp of air–

“Wanted to learn– f’ you-”

You kiss his tip and take him back down all the way, earning his love drunk slurred reply.

“Goodgirl– o-oh- oh my f-fucking god uhhhuhh y-you’re so good at that babyyyy-!! Don’ stop don’ stop pl-pleease ‘mmmm gonna—!!!”

He cums so loud and so quick, you both get addicted.

Kento

Now this man, quite frankly, does not give a fuck if his sweet girl can get his dick down her throat or not. He's more concerned about what you'd like for brunch, what's your favourite champagne, or whether you're a morning person.

However, with your growing desire to impress him in the bedroom, after his skilled and passionate ministrations that have left you feeling cared for wholeheartedly, you decide to talk to him about it.

“You want to— what?”

He's amazed at first. A completely sweet and innocent girl like you, bringing this up with him? Sure, he's experienced it a couple of times before but he doesn't expect it. The idea of doing it with you got him hard on the spot, though.

“Ok, honey. You'll have to practise with your toothbrush, then we can slowly get bigger.”

It's a team effort, but within weeks your gag reflex is lessened and you're feeling more confident. You're ready to try it with him.

“Sweetie, go slow, n-no just be careful.”

He sits motionless on the edge of the bed with you between his knees. His hips are still, his hands are by his sides. Your throat is opening up for his tip and…

“Oh– sweet– fuck—!”

It's euphoric. Your stern and serious man is struggling to keep his mouth shut today.

“Mmm– honey y-you're too good to me, I love you so much, you know that? ‘n– y-you didn't have to do this– I, I can't believe you went to all that effort… for me.”

Says the man who goes down on you for an evening and calls it ‘foreplay’. It's all worth it, for him. You would do anything for him, not that he'd ask.

“O-ohhh sweetheart– you feel amazing–”

You're so satisfied with his unusually loud moaning- you'd like to do this very often.

Suguru

If you can do it, it's a bonus.

“Oh, you want to– ok, just t– woah–!! Take your time–”

You've already been practising for him. You wanted to surprise him.

“H-holy FUCK! Baby-baby ohhhooh sshhit—”

He's grabbing at the sheets, desperately trying to keep himself on this planet.

But you want him to lose it a little– you want to take his composure for a change.

You pull away briefly and tell him–

“Suguru, fuck my throat, ‘can take it–” and quickly swallow him down again, grabbing his hips.

He's fucking thrilled.

“Ok, ok sweetie, kneel down on the floor– yeah, now— uuuhhuhh– that's it, right there baby let me use that throat– yeah– ohmygoddd—!”

He is no longer the cool, calm and collected Suguru you know and love. He's losing it all for you; one hand fisting your hair, the other on the back of your neck, while his hips guide his cock up and down your throat.

It's an intense experience, to say the least, but when his orgasm takes him by surprise and you get this marathon sex god cumming down your throat, with sounds so pornographic you could cream on the spot? It's all worth it.

hcs | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #18+ content #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #kento x reader #nanami x reader #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru #suguru x reader #jjk headcanons

[ronsenthal]

Part four of Jess Reads Fierce Valor we are walking towards the end of the WWII and also the end of the book

Notes: Y'all know the drill, I highly recommend that (if you can) read the book and take your own conclusions, this is my view from my experience reading it blablabla

nothing much insane happens at first as they are at Haguenau, just Speirs not letting sick pneumonia Lipton sleep on the floor so he ordered him to get to the bed while he spend the night on a sleeping bag

oh yes Webster being a poet describing Winters and Speirs as they were planning the patrol, they were in front of a creek, with some maps and aerial pictures and just random gesturing, he said he was inspired by those two tactical nerds

now it gets crazy and there is gossip about *cleans throat* GHOSTS and they were kinda blaming Speirs as they thought it was the ghosts of the prisioners from Normandy (????) that he killed????there were some accounts of spooky stuff going on even Nixon got some tales to tell, something with ammo carts moving around when nobody was touching it lmao

so as we know the first patrol was considered a success, but the second one never happened because WINTERS ordered them to sleep that night and come in the next morning with the news that they couldn't get any prisoners, pretty awesome if you ask me

they do the lottery thing but instead of Shifty one of his best friends won it as was released, they didn't mention it was rigged BUT it was his bff after all, so who knows (we do know)

HE MADE THE MEN WASH THEIR UNIFORMS like boil them down to take off the dirt and make their boots shiny again. We have Webster saying he liked Speirs and talks about his sincere smile that was endearing, really touching stuff

Lipton tells us how Speirs didn't drink or smoke and tried to stay in good shape BUT we have Webster saying previously that he had stained tobacco teeth so what is the truth???

when he got promoted to captain he got drunk and cried in front of Lipton??? because he was so ashamed of his behaviour and keep saying how he always took care of himself by not drinking or smoking??? and now they ruined him, but again what is the truth?

finally Berchtesgaden and we have Webster saying that Speirs more than once said that "there was an inverse ratio between courage and looting" while Malarkey said he was the worst looter, again the account don't seem to agree which is quite normal when it's about this man

the crazy vengeful bitch destroyed a fucking Mercedes, the account of the book is slightly different from what Webster told in his book, in this book they say that one of his sargeants found the car and but Speirs pulled rank on him and got the car that apparently was Göring's??? anyway from there is pretty much the same,

listen this is funny because they tried to pull a prank on him but he was smarter (word spread about the prank before it took place). Sargeant Mercier got his hand on some german officer's uniform, put it on and had some guards to take him to Speirs desk in full uniform, "Sir we captured this german officer what should we do??" to which he calmy and firmly said "Shoot him" and then Mercier broke character and Speirs told him to get out of the uniform and stop messing around

Webster telling that on VE day Speirs was throwing empty bottles of champagne and shooting it from his balcony, he and some sargeant named Carson were shooting bottles as target practise and Talbert came furious with the latter, because a certain Captain banned the careless use of bullets, so he was down after the guy but saw Speirs with him, and he was like "oopsie forgot my own order" and Talbert didn't liked Speirs at all and it was one of the reasons of his resignation, he wrote some letters to Winters confirming his hatred

okay so now we have de Chuck Grant incident, he was FURIOUS and ordered a manhunt, he joined them after securing that Grant would be taken care and was at good hands at the hospital, but yes according to Malarkey the "When you talk to an officer you say sir" did happened and he hit the idiot with his gun

after that the party was over, even Sink was pissed off and wished that someone (Speirs) had killed the replacement who shot Grant. Some rules were then set in place like cars and guns curfews, no drinking, not friendly activities with civilians and he got tougher again, he was even described as draconian during this time

we have some more accounts of Webster and Winters praising him as a CO and after being on Germany and Austria they were sent back to France

ah yes his wife Edwyna divorced him after her former husband was found alive in a german prison, so he was alone and lonely on his journey back to the US after the war

okay from now we are going toward the start of his long ass military career I think there are only two chapters left on the book

taglist: @mads-weasley, @mutantmanifesto @love--persevering, @gorgeousundertow , @grumpy-liebgott, @wexhappyxfew, @latibvles and @1waveshortofashipwreck

if you want me to tag you for this series let me know

#band of brothers #ronald speirs #donald malarkey #easy company #chuck grant #david webster #carwood lipton #floyd talbert #dick winters #jess reads fierce valor #mw*

[loveforlandonorris]

💬 Lando's words on having reached 100 races in his career at Austin:

Lando on his debut race at the 2019 Australian Grand Prix:

“I can’t remember all of my debut race, but I can remember a lot of it,” Lando says. “I can remember being on the grid, the nerves, and having so many things to remember. We practised that situation so many times in pre-season testing, but having to remember my stop laps, the plan for the race, and things like that added a lot of nerves, and that’s what I really remember."

“Then I remember being on the grid, lights out and the run down to Turn 1. It was not my best start, I don’t think, but a good memory. It was exciting, and doing it for the first time is special. I wouldn't say my first race was my favourite, it is cool and memorable, but it is nothing compared to a podium or a pole.”

Lando on his 1st podium at the 2020 Austrian Grand Prix:

“I remember the whole thing,” Lando says. “I got past [Sergio] Perez at Turn 3, I was driving as quickly as I could. The gap to Lewis [Hamilton] at that point was quite big, but I knew that he had a five-second time penalty and that I needed to push as hard as I could. This is where Scenario 7 happened."

“There were no fans there, which is the disappointing thing, but to see the whole team, to spray some champagne – that was my first time in quite a while - was very nice.”

Lando on his first pole at the 2021 Russian Grand Prix:

“It was an intermediate qualifying on a drying track." “There was one run on slick tyres in Q3, in conditions that I have always enjoyed since karting: slick tyres and that element of taking so much risk. You know that if it goes a little bit wrong, it is pretty much a guarantee you are going to be in the wall or crashing out."

“It is about who is going to take the biggest risk, basically, in every corner. The risk is a tyre's width, and if you go a little bit too wide, you're in the water. It is scary conditions in a way, but I remember my lap and the thought of 'don't mess it up'. I knew we had the chance of getting a good result."

“Crossing the line and getting told that I was P1 was super exciting, it put a big smile on my face. My first pole in Formula 1 was a good one.”

Lando on getting P2 in his home race at the 2023 British Grand Prix:

“Silverstone was one of the coolest, most exciting races,” Lando recalls. “One, because it is Silverstone, my home race, with the fans and the atmosphere, but then, of course, because of the podium. Getting my first podium of the year and having the turnaround we had to get to that point was quite incredible. It was just very special. It was my first [podium] in front of a home crowd."

“To hear everyone chanting my name, cheering for me, and seeing so many McLaren fans, it is one of those times that you remember looking up to as a kid. You really feel like you are in the moment when you are there, it is a very special feeling.”

Lando on his relationship with his teammates:

"There have always been filming days and things that we have done with Carlos [Sainz], Daniel [Ricciardo] and Oscar," he says. "There are moments you don't even see on camera when we are not filming. We have had great laughs. "It is about sharing these experiences with different teammates and people which is what always makes it a lot of fun. I wouldn't say there aren't any specific off-track moments I would name, but just time with my three teammates and the team, sharing my experiences with them."

Lando on having reached 100 races & his hopes for the future:

After completing my first 100, it has got to be a step up from everything that we have achieved so far, that next bracket of success, which is hopefully winning some races and competing for more race wins and podiums," Lando says. "I think this year has been our strongest so far in terms of actually competing on genuine pace for race wins and podiums."

"Previously, it was every now and then. It was a one-off strong race, or maybe we had gotten lucky. Now, we are actually competing."

"Over the next 100, it is about achieving more success with the team, sharing more moments, creating more memories and taking some gold trophies instead of silver or bronze ones - that is my target."

"We have had a great five years together, but there are hopefully many more to come in papaya with the Papaya Army cheering us on every weekend."

#lando norris #landonorris #ln4 #mclaren #austin gp 2023 #us gp 2023 #cota gp 2023 #formula one #formula 1 #f1

[museenkuss]

Girlies….had like 1/4 of one half of a grapefruit and had to give up….Mad respect for the diet crowd, that was insane.

Update: made it to 1/2 of that half….

#me practising for my champagne experiment #HELL #at least I’m awake now lol #it’s 8:40 I’ve never been on this early #but wow #that was. a lot. #fun to eat but oh Christ

[imnotwolverine]

The Accidental Family - I am..WHAT?!

Henry Cavill x OFC Phoebe (Bee) 

Warnings: mentions of smut, strong language, unplanned pregnancy, sad fluff

Word count: 2.414

Author’s note: OKAY..one more to finish the year. I’m writing this while frying oliebollen (Dutch dough balls we eat during festivities) and my fingers are all sticky and sweet, but hey; I can’t leave you readers hanging on the last day of this miserable year! Kisses 😘

(Link to my Masterlist)

--

Phoebe was done with it all. Done with this week; done with the slump that was her life right now. She just worked through a week with three over-time shifts at the hospital, some annoyances with her new IUD and Leon. Fucking-fucktard Leon. 

But tonight she was going to be a big girl and suck it up, because heck; she was a good friend and tonight was Megan’s night. After long years of hard toil and shitty side-jobs, Megan had MADE it. She had gotten her first serious acting gig and tonight was the premiere, to which Phoebe would be her +1. 

Single girls unite. 

Sighing, Phoebe leaned into her make-up mirror, applying a coat of lipgloss to her pursed lips, heavy eyelashes fluttering. She never wore this much make-up, but it seemed like a thing you did when you went to such a fancy party. An A-lister party. Would Meryl Streep be there? She always had wanted to meet Meryl Streep. 

Smacking her lips to feel the stickiness of her lipgloss - why did people like wearing this crap? -, she moved out to the hall of her small apartment where she heard the intercom buzz. Alright. Showtime. 

‘Coming!’ She called to nobody in particular, hastily looking over the rows of shoes that were messily stacked by her door. Heels - heels - heels. And that scarf. Leon’s scarf. “Accidentally” left behind after he had come over to finally pick up the last of his things. She couldn’t stand the sight of it, and if it were a “good girl thing” to do, she’d shove it down the trash right now - like the trash he was. Cheater.

*tringgg* 

Hurry! -- Okay, shoes! Purple, brown, practical, no - no - no.. And then her eye fell on the perhaps a bit painful, but very much sexy heels she had once bought to wear for her 6th anniversary with Leon. Fuck-Me-Pumps. With silvery diamond straps and all. He hadn’t given two damns about them, about her dreams she had tried to talk about during that dinner - kids - but then again, Phoebe learned a year later why that was; CHEATER. 

‘Please bring me luck, babies.’ Phoebe mumbled, picking up the intercom that buzzed again. ‘Just putting on my shoes. Down in a minute.’ 

‘Alright m’am.’ A deep voice responded politely. 

Was that the driver? It must be the driver! They had a driver?! OH MEGAN, YOU! 

Excitement started to bubble in Phoebe’s tired bones as she realised that perhaps for tonight, things could be fun - painful shoes and all. 

Show-time. 

--

The water boiler gurgled lazily on the countertop, two pairs of eyes staring down at it, willing it to go faster. 

‘You didn’t respond to my text.’ Henry tried to keep a casual tone, but even with all his acting experience, the hurt was evident as his blue eyes swiftly moved over to Phoebe, who that had just knocked on his door after 3 months of radio silence. 

‘Yea...’ Phoebe cleared her throat and awkwardly leaned into the opposite kitchen counter Henry was leaning into. The tension was tangible and for a moment she scolded herself for pushing Megan to find out Henry’s address. 

‘..some..stuff happened.’ 

‘Is this the point where you’re going to tell me you’re married and your husband found out?’ 

Phoebe’s eyes widened and a chuckle escaped her lips, making Henry frown. ‘That might have just made all this a bit easier. But eh..no. I ..’ 

--

‘FEEEEBBsss where WEREEEE youu. Oh my god. Have you met..’ Phoebe could barely manage to stay balanced on her high heels as Megan’s hand dragged her away from the toilets - away from him - and onto one of the far corners of the crowded room where some mildly creepy man was waving at Megan. Megan waved back, but Phoebe could only focus on the burst of white camera flashes behind her, her eyes wishing to look if he followed. 

But Megan’s grip was tight and Phoebe was perhaps three shot glasses too drunk to stay on her feet AND look over her shoulder - the deep pink blush on her cheeks betraying that something was going on. 

‘..so I had this super fun chat with Michael. You know Michael right? I mean he was crazyyy excited about..Phoebe? Earth to Phoebe!’ Megan’s neatly manicured nail prodded into Phoebe’s silvery dress, awakening the blond woman from her over-shoulder stare when they finally had halted. 

‘Wh-what? Hi! Sorry. Eh..’ Instantly the deep pink worsened on Phoebe’s cheeks as Megan shot her one unbelieving wild eyed stare - she knew. Oh fuck, she knew. 

‘You know what - if you’d excuse us for a moment.’ Megan smiled charmingly at the old man that was checking her out for all the wrong reasons. 

Again Megan’s hand pulled on her arm, but this time they travelled less far, walking out to a more quiet area guarded by some heavy red curtains which offered a walkway for the staff who much resembled an army of tuxedo clad ants moving large trays of fizz around. 

‘You are 50 shades of red, hun.’ Megan chuckled, wiping some mildly smudged lipgloss from Phoebe’s chin. 

‘Oh, woops.’ Phoebe quickly mimicked the wipe on her chin, but the sticky residue was already gone - though other sticky residue on some other lips were most definitely still there. 

Shit, she had to get cleaned up fast. She wasn’t even wearing any PANTIES. DAMMIT. Oh my...how..why..Wobbling dangerously on her heels again, Phoebe lurched for one of the walls, a sudden wave of nausea coming over her as her red cheeks turned bitter green.

‘Awh shit Feebs. You OK? Eh..Ehhhhh...’ Nervously Megan looked around the stretch of the hallway, black and white tuxedos cruising deftly around with the patterns of a well-practised champagne carrying dance. 

‘Pfff...’ Phoebe tried to breath in deeply, inhaling whatever air she could muster in her suddenly claustrophobically tight lungs. Oh what did she do?!!! OH NO. Oh Christ. Good girls don’t shag in toilet stalls. Good girls don’t... ‘Pff - pff -pff’ With short little puffs she let out the air, but the nausea didn’t fade. How did pregnant women do that? Damn. 

‘I gotta go home.’ 

‘Yea-yea. Let me fix you a cab.’ Megan clipped her fingers and in a few minutes Phoebe was loaded into a cab, away from the bustling bubble of Hollywood A-listers and hot shots. 

The fairytale, was over. 

--

‘I got scared.’ 

‘Of me?’ Henry’s face pulled into one of agony, making him look even more disheveled with his wild curls, crumpled white shirt - which looked much too good on his large chest - and loose hanging grey sweatpants. 

‘No. I mean. Eh. Well. I lost my phone and..I called..and..someone picked up.’ 

‘Lea? Miranda? What someone?’ Henry stepped a little closer as the water cooker started to come to a slow boil. 

‘I don’t know. I -- They said they never heard of me, so I explained what..happened - oh fuck I shouldn’t have..I...pfffff. I panicked.’ A heavy blush crept over her cheeks as she nervously eyed the water boiler, the little lever moving back to “off” as the water danced in a heavy boil within.

‘Gr-green tea? English tea? Mint? I got some..’ Henry’s voice trailed off.

Phoebe shrugged and brushed a hand over her cheek, willing herself to stop blushing as the large stranger of a man brushed passed her to reach for the tea bags that were located just beside her head. 

‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly tried to get away, but Henry could only grin. 

‘It’s not funny, Cavill.’ Phoebe pouted shyly. 

‘Well you stood me up. I’m allowed to..smile, no?’ 

Phoebe opened her mouth to say something. Perhaps ask for forgiveness, or further her explanation to why she chickened out to trying again - and how she had even gotten his address. But no words came and so she just watched as Henry turned back to the task of making tea, bunching a few mint leaves in the two grey mugs that were settled on the smooth grey kitchen counter. 

This man sure liked his greys. 

‘I eh..actually ..had to tell you something.’ 

Even Phoebe herself wasn’t prepared for the words that had just escaped her lips, but there they were, earning a surprised quirk of Henry’s eyebrow. 

‘You don’t say.’ His lip curled into another cheeky grin and Phoebe couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him. Henry chuckled and hinted in the direction of the kitchen table. ‘Let’s sit.’ 

-- And that was a very good idea -- 

--

‘Meg..oh I’m in deep shit.’ Phoebe paced her small hallway as she waited for her friend’s voice to soothe her stomach fluttering nerves, her new smartphone clutched tightly in her hand. 

‘Oh- oh- wait a sec. Baby..yea..mommy is gonna be righttt there. Just a moment okay?’ A short pause followed and then Megan finally answered. ‘HEYY booo. What’s cooking goodlookin’?’ 

‘A baby, that’s what.’ 

‘W-what?’ 

--

Why didn’t he say anything? Phoebe nervously fingered the ear of her mug, waiting for Henry to give any kind of response to what she had just explained, and for the slightest moment she considered fleeing again - like she had numerous times when she tried to find the courage and call him, text him - anything. But that just hadn’t sat right, felt right. And then for long weeks she just pushed the reality of it all away. How could she be pregnant?! HOW?! 

The new IUD, that’s how. But, Henry had used protection; how much bad luck could one have?! So much for accidents that happen in cramped little bathroom stalls. 

Finally Henry made a noise, but it was more like a surprised squeak, then any normal sound a man his size would make. 

‘I’m sorry.’ Phoebe lowered her eyes a little more, taking it up as a; yea, this is not cool, girlfriend.

No, scratch that - she was not even his girlfriend. Ha! They were strangers for fuck’s sake. 

‘O-okay.’ Henry inhaled deeply and nodded, brushing a hand over the head of his dog, who was pushing a curious nose into his lap. ‘Okay. Wow.’ 

‘Yea..’ Phoebe swallowed thickly. ‘I..I’m keeping it either way. But..I thought..’ Her fingers had apparently curled around the mug so fiercely that it right about screamed as its small ear broke off. ‘OH FUCK.’ Her eyes widened as her lips turned into a shocked little “o”. 

Henry laughed. ‘Well, we better get new mugs before that baby is born.’ 

Was he being sarcastic? Phoebe felt like she was close to tears as the man before her cracked out the mug joke. Oh, why did she always ruin things?! 

‘Oh don’t cry. Please don’t cry. It’s just a mug.’ Henry’s smile turned into a pained lip bite as he saw the silvery tears rim Phoebe’s eyes. But Phoebe couldn’t help it, her lower lip already shivering as she looked down at the broken little tea ear in her hand. 

‘I’m sorry..’ She whimpered pathetically, the first tears already beading down her cheek before Henry could push away his chair and squat down beside her. 

‘Hey-hey. It’s okay. It’s..hey, come on now.’ 

‘I’ll *sniff* g-get a new..ha..new one *sniff*’ 

Henry smiled, slowly shaking his head before he carefully brushed his fingers through her golden locks, hooking them behind her ear so he could properly see her face. 

‘Bee..’ His voice lowered to a gentle hum.

‘It’s Phoebe by the way.’ She sniffled. 

‘Okay. Hello Phoebe.’ His hand folded around her hand that was carefully holding onto the broken off mug ear. Hesitantly, Phoebe looked away from her hand, right into the blue ocean that had drawn her in some three months ago from across the crowded room. She now too noticed a little fleck of brown in there - a little accidental mutation. Would the baby have his eyes? 

‘H-hi.’ She sniffled, trying her best to turn her lips in a smile, but it only worsened everything, more tears bursting from her eyes as the stress and chaos of the past months came crashing down. In an instant she felt herself be enveloped by large warm arms, a hot breath fanning over her head as Henry nuzzled her hair, his lips brushing over the shell of her ear as he spoke: 

‘It was just an accident, okay? No harm done.’ 

Phoebe nodded, but scolded herself anyways. Sure enough he was just talking about the mug. The stupid fucking mug. But what about the fucking baby?! Her..- his - baby. 

‘Phoebe? Bee?’ He settled back a little, his fingers brushing through her hair again. ‘How about we go sit on the couch and I make you a new cup of tea and we..’ He licked his lip as his eyes quickly flew over her heart-shaped, tear bruised face. He had to try hard not to unnecessarily coo over her. He didn’t want to chase her away this time. Especially not now. Not with this..situation.

A..baby?!

‘You don’t have to be so nice you know.’ Phoebe muttered, looking back at him. 

‘Well, too bad I’m a nice guy then.’ -- Who is going to be a dad!!! WOO! --  His lips curled in a sweet smile. 

‘Nice guys don’t shag women in bathroom stalls, do they?’ 

Henry cleared his throat at her sharp words, quickly looking down at his hand covering hers. ‘Yea..that was a ..bit uncharacteristic of mine. Ha..fuck..You know I scolded myself so hard for doing that. I-I sent you a pretty long Whatsapp message after, but..’ 

‘I never got that. Must be some syncing issue when I got my new phone.’ Phoebe’s lips curled in a watery smile. ‘The couch is fine.’ 

‘Okay.’ Henry’s smile grew a little. ‘Can you walk?’ 

‘Pff..Of course I can walk.’ She huffed, before she all but flew up into Henry’s chest in surprise when she was nuzzled by a very wet nose. 

‘Oh, I forgot to mention, this is Kal. My dog. And he likes the word “walk”’ - the dog borked softly - ‘very much.’ 

They both laughed and Kal’s ears perked up, his wet nose pressing in Phoebe’s elbow again, pushing her further up into Henry’s welcoming arms. 

The whole situation was weird, but as Henry felt how naturally they somehow melted into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his back, he could only smile. 

Sometimes accidents simply offered you the little push you needed all along. Be it in the form of broken mugs or babies. 

--

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @tumblnewby @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @just-a-normal-fangirl18 @hell1129-blog @agniavateira @tillthelandslide @elinesama

@tryingtoliveonmywishes @ceilingfann @do-youseeme

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x ofc #the accidental family #oneshot

[jumpship90]

“Dance with me.”

I got a bit carried away with this one - more under the cut!

“The Groundbreaker crew really went all out, huh?” Jaq said with a grin, gesturing to the reception room of the former Halcyon Holdings building now turned community centre and occasional wedding venue. They were genuinely impressed by the work that had gone into getting the former corporate outpost fit for the ceremony. The faded red banners of the Board had been replaced with fresh ones in white and turquoise, the transformation aided by string lights and fake flowers winding through the service pipes and grills.

“I know! Isn’t it just beautiful, Cap?”

Parvati was beaming, her arm tucked through Junlei’s and the hand bearing her wedding band holding the stem of the same champagne glass she’d been carrying around all evening. The level on it didn’t seem to have dropped at all.

“We’re very glad you and Doctor Welles could make it,” the Chief offered with customary grace.

“We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, would we, my dear?” a familiar voice intoned and Jaq turned to see Phineas had extricated himself from his discussion with Max. His wild hair had been tamed with the help of some Auntie-Cleo's products and he was dressed in a suit of midnight blue, tiny gold stars stitched into the collar and cuffs. Jaq had thought it was a bit much until the moment he had put it on, at which point they’d decided that, actually, it was very fetching.

He cast them a warm smile as he halted at their side and inclined his head to the happy couple.

“Might I borrow the good Captain for a moment?”

Parvati laughed and nodded, and Phineas extended an arm to them.

Jaq tucked in close to his side as he led them past the chattering guests huddled around the buffet table. The strict rationing system meant it wasn’t quite as opulent as it might once have been, though they still caught sight of Felix piling a plate high with treats and attempting to pilfer one from Nyoka.

“If you’re ready to go then I need to find my jacket,” they said. Jaq was impressed and more than a little proud of how Phineas had handled the crowds throughout the event, his confidence growing as the night wore on. They’d anticipated he’d want to leave much earlier and were happy to do so now if he had reached his limit for socialising.

“Not just yet. There’s something I want to do first.” He halted abruptly and it was then that Jaq registered he’d brought them to the edge of the dance floor, the polished surface bustling with couples enjoying the new found freedom to appreciate music that wasn’t a corporate jingle. When they turned to Phineas, there was a hopeful glint sparkling away in his eyes and no small measure of excitement. He slipped an arm about their waist, his fingers brushing past the clasp of their braces to rest at the small of their back. “Dance with me.”

“Sure. But I’ve got no idea what I’m doing.”

Phineas chuckled and took their hand. “Then follow my lead.”

He began a little hesitantly and Jaq bumped into him, their own faltering steps making the manoeuvre awkward. It didn’t take long though for Phineas to find his stride and once he did, he moved with a fluidity and an elegance that swept Jaq along effortlessly. As they danced, they found there was a vitality to their partner that was so charming Jaq couldn’t take their eyes off him. His movements were joyous as he led them about the floor, winding between the other couples with practised ease. They grinned back at him, forever grateful to have been given the gift of sharing these moments together.

The tempo of the song slowed and Phineas drew them closer, his fingers drifting over their spine, tracing a line through their shirt. He was studying them with the same intensity they saw in him when he huddled over his latest experiment in the laboratory, a secretive smile playing about his lips. Jaq knew they were flushing.

“You look like you’re pondering something important,” they said, fingertips trailing through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Have you just figured out a solution to something?”

Phineas hummed. “Perhaps. I was just thinking what a lucky fellow I am to be dancing with the most handsome individual in the room.”

Jaq laughed and squeezed the fingers entwined in their own. “Is that a pick-up line? Have you been watching serials without me?”

“Is it working?” Phineas asked with a mischievous smirk.

They sniggered and lent in. “Yep.”

Their lips grazed his softly and Phineas returned the gentle pressure with a contented sigh. Jaq’s heart gave a jolt at the sound.

“Ugh, get a room, Captain,” Ellie snarked as she waltzed past them, a stunning redhead in her arms and a cocky smile on her face.

Jaq flipped her a middle finger as Phineas laughed quietly and lent in to their ear. “I think I’m ready to leave now.”

#one of my favourite headcanons is that phineas likes to wear ridiculous outfits once he's a free man #he's 35 years out of date on fashion #and has questionable taste #Jaq thinks he looks great in everything #and they're just very pleased he's having a nice time #jaq/phin #captain jaq #phineas welles #ask answered

[spacehologramcollection]

NSFW Alphabet Smoke.

Finally, the NSFW Alphabet for my man Smokey Boo Bear. I had so much fun writing this. It may differ from other HC’s about him. But this is my interpretation of what he’d be like. I feel like I’m repenting for my sins for writing Havik Smut to be fair.

Warnings: NSFW, so you know the drill 18+ under the cut. Mentions of all that smutty goodness. Some mentions of the Enenra. I cannot also speak any Czech whatsoever. So, you may have to use your imaginations. Why does Smoke not have a Czech accent though? GIF does not belong to me. Was found on google. 

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

Tomas is so soft after sex and he is extremely vulnerable himself. Aftercare with him is mutual thing. He needs some TLC and a hell of a lot of love after. It’s simple things like running you both a bath, helping to wash each other’s bodies. If you help him wash his hair, he will love you for it. Because it takes a fucking lot of work to comb and brush. It’s also soft touches and caresses after. The man is more on the touch starved side, extremely touch starved when you first meet. So, he craves human affection and touch. So please give it to him. A lot of soft reassuring words are passed back and forth in the dark of your shared room. Only the string lights wrapped around your bedframe illuminating you. You’re a tangle of limbs, blankets and love. In conclusion Smoke is a big softie and he loves to be affectionate after sex. After your shower he’ll also bring you both a snack and a warm drink. God, imagine him leaning back against your counter, hair in a bun, no shirt on, grey checked joggers. PERFECTION. His voice is also very soothing.

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

This is a tricky one for him, because in his eyes he loves every inch of you. But if he had to choose, he’s without a doubt very partial to your chest, stomach and neck areas. He loves leaving a trail of flitted kisses and light love bites down there. He also loves your thighs, he just loves how they feel when you’re on top of him, or the way they snake around his waist. He loves running his hands over them and the feel of your skin against his. As for his favourite body part when it comes to himself. He’s not overly bothered where you touch at first, just please touch and love him, he’s been starved for a very long time and he just craves some touch. But after a while, when he’s used to the frequent contact and content. He finds he does love his arms and shoulders the most. The feel of you gripping at them, trying to remain in control as he fucks you silly against a wall. Or the way you bury your head into them as you cum. He loves it. He’s worked hard for his body and is very proud of his arms.  

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

So, with Tomas, he isn’t into making messes. They aren’t his thing. So, he will prefer to cum in you or his hand if you’re not into him cumming into you. But if you’re down for swallowing he will lose it watching as you take everything, he gives you. An exception to the mess rule is shower sex. He will make an absolute mess of you, if you want him to, as long as it’s in the shower. He will never admit how much it turned him on. When you were in the shower, on your knees, tongue out waiting for him to cum on your face. He felt weird at first, until he saw you covered in his cum. Enenra does stir a little when he sees you in a mess. It’s something Smoke has to try and keep control of. It’s a two-way relationship, one which Enenra isn’t involved in and has no say.

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

Has had exactly one really filthy dream. He hasn’t told anyone this because it really did turn him on something fierce. He’ll take this secret to the grave with him. This dream had it all. Manipulation of his powers, fucking somewhere you shouldn’t have been, best friend walking in. It was fucking SPICY. He’d disappeared and reappeared in a cloud of smoke. Sat there, legs spread on that fucking chair. It ended with you, riding the fuck out of him on the Lin Kuei throne. Only to have Kuai walk in on you both mid fucking. Really in front of his salad? The dream ended there. But he was curious to see how it ended. He did fuck you a bit rougher that morning too.

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

And with the running theme for our Lin Kuei men. Smoke has no experience whatsoever. I will die on this hill. Touch starved to fuck through choice though. He doesn’t trust just anyone, and it takes a lot for him to trust you. So, sex wasn’t on the cards. That, and he’s nervous about sex with Enenra lurking inside him. If that little shit wanted to wake up, what would happen? He didn’t want to think about it. So, abstained from sex. He has had a lot of offers. Sareena could have hooked him up with someone easily. Someone who wouldn’t have been bothered if Enenra reared his ugly arse head during. That and him masturbating isn’t easy, but more on that later. So yeah, you’re taking his virginity. He trusts you and learns to subdue the fear of Enenra, and you seem to shut the fucker down too. So, all in all. He’s not experienced, won’t be great the first few times, and probably won’t last long. But it’s all practise, a great warrior isn’t moulded over a day, give him some time to practise and he’s eager to learn.

·       F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual Will instead include badly described sex positions)

Comes as no surprise but he’s very vanilla at first. He likes to feel he has some degree of control of the situation. Just so he can stop it in case he feels like it’s getting too much. So, it’ll mainly be missionary. That and he does love to look at your face and expressions you make during. It kind of reassures him that he’s doing everything right… not that your moans and noises don’t already confirm that. After a while you try a few new positions, mainly doggy, him fucking you against a wall. Whilst he loves all of them, he does love it when you ride him. It’s like the ultimate show of trust for him. He’s putting you in control. He loves watching your hips move against him, the circular motions you make, the way your hands run over his chest. The way you grip his shoulders for leverage. It can also feel intimate when he sits up and brings you closer together. Sex is really intimate for him so he’s going to prefer positions that are more intimate.

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

Tomas has an interesting sense of humour. Whilst he may come across as stoic and mature (Not quiet Kuai’s level) he does have a sense of humour. And will occasionally let out a breathy laugh when you say something that’s a bit dirty. It’s just the way he is. He’s not going to sit there and makes overtly sexual jokes or tell you one mid thrust. But he has a sense of humour. It’s more prominent at the beginning of your relationship. When he’s inexperienced, it’s his way of dealing with not knowing what to do. But sex becomes a little more serious as he gets better. He will still laugh after, because he cannot believe how lucky he is.

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

Tomas takes care of himself. And yeah, the hair does match the drapes. He’s a little embarrassed by that. Even though you kinda knew because his eyebrows are fucking grey. But he keeps everything trimmed and well groomed. If he was to grow stubble on his face you wouldn’t be able to tell straight away. That and when he did try and grow a beard Bi-Han called him Santa for a week straight. So, he keeps himself well groomed. The only part that’s a little untamed, is the very faint trail that runs from bellow his navel down to his cock. You want to follow that trail and see where it goes.

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

Tomas is very intimate during sex. This is due to how he views it and himself. It’s a real reflection and insight into how he is. He doesn’t let just anyone touch him. It takes years of trust. And he doesn’t let himself close to many. But you, you’re different. He’d go as far as saying you’re his soulmate. So, when he has sex with you, he’s allowing himself to be vulnerable and showing you a side he doesn’t show many people. He’ll have a lot of sweet words leaving his mouth, compliments are being bestowed left right and centre. Lots of strokes, caresses and slow fucking. He can also be very romantic when the time calls for it. He saves these for special occasions though, because after a while it may lose it’s meaning. Like anniversary sex very romantic, it’s not surprising but it is. He’s learnt from Bi-Han and Kuai which means he should technically suck, but then again, he has read a lot of books. So, he probably pulls his romance ideas from that. A lot of rose petals, incense, some champagne. He’s gone all out.

·       J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Masturbating had never been his thing. Sometimes it had to be done. And he thought of it as a chore. It was always difficult with Enenra surging his way through him near the point of him cumming. He had to keep control and that didn’t help him focus. It was a very difficult situation; one he couldn’t just speak to anyone about. Bi-Han isn’t the best for advice, and Kuai, well Kuai is Kuai. He’s not an overtly sexual person. Neither of them has another being living in them. So, he felt stuck. He eventually, after a few awkward searches and tweaking, came up with a solution and grew to control him better. But now he has you, it’s not as bad, you silence and keep Enenra at bay. He’s not sure why. But mutual masturbation is now one of his favourite things in the world.

·       K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sorry but he’s not overtly kinky. He’s on the vanilla side of things. And he’s still exploring everything. He does have a bit of voice kink on his part, he loves watching you come undone as he speaks in Czech. Inappropriate manipulation of smoke is another kink. He loves watching it ebb around you, swirl and reveal parts of you. He loves been able to get you off with it. So, he has a slight temperature kink. Where there’s fire, there’s Smoke…

·       L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Apart from that one dream where he fucked you on the throne. He’s down mainly for the bedroom. It’s private, intimate, little to no chance of getting disturbed and his room is really comfy. A little bit on the basic side. But the man loves his little succulents, string lights and piles of warm blankets and pillows. But he will also fuck you in the shower, he loves the feel of the water as it runs down his back as he fucks you against a wall. Or how the warm tiles feel against his body as he lays down and you ride him. So mainly bedroom, bath/shower, or wall sex. More private than public. He doesn’t want to get caught.

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

Seeing how undone you’re coming either when he gives you oral or as he teases you with his fingers. He can’t believe he’s managing to make you come this undone. And he’s the one getting you GONE. He also has a thing for watching you undress. If you want to get him hard, all you’ll need to do is just start removing some layers slowly. It’s still an intimacy thing. You’re baring your body to him, showing him, you trust him… that and you’re perfect in his eyes. Heavy make out sessions will also get him going, be gentle with him though.

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

So, this is where this differs to some other Hc’s people have for Tomas. He’s not submissive. He needs to have some control or feel he’s in control. He been through some shit. And he doesn’t like not feeling he has some control over the situation. So, he will not be into bondage, BDSM or any of that. He won’t hurt you during sex either, or in return he really doesn’t want any of that shit either. He doesn’t mind gently tugs to his hair but don’t yank it. Tomas has been through a lot and needs some care and attention. He just wants to feel loved and not scared. So, he avoids anything that could bring harm. He can be a little rough, but he draws the line at slapping, choking etc. It makes him feel like he’ll lose control, Enenra is always there and that’s something you both need to accept. Better to play it safe.

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

He gets better at giving over time. And he really does love to give and he gets very, very good at it. He loves watching you come undone on his tongue and will often smirk watching you writhe against his mouth. That and with that smoke power, it feels UNREAL when he lets parts ghost out of his mouth and hands over your dripping cunt. A bit teasingly. But he’d deny teasing, because would he do that? Will also leave little love bites on your thighs.

He loves to receive too. Oh my god who would have thought it would feel this nice. He’s a little unsure at first when you say you want to take him all, he hears you gag and is a bit nervous. But he relaxes when you start moaning around his cock. He’s so impressed you can take him all. Loves running his fingers through your hair as you suck him off.  

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

Okay. So, Tomas is going to prefer Slow and Sensual sex, I think we’ve covered this in detail. But he just prefers it, sex is sacred to him and an intimate act, he wants that philosophy to reflect in his actions. But that doesn’t say he won’t fuck you on the rougher side. Not enough to hurt you, but he can be more fast, frantic and have deeper thrusts. This comes after a little bit of practise, but by god does it feel good.

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

Not a fan of them. He wants to take his time. Explore, make sure you leave with jelly legs and to him, that cannot be achieved in a short amount of time. But he will have a quickie if he must leave on a mission OR if he’s snuck out to meet you when he’s meant to be on a mission. Sometimes he has a yearning to fuck you and he can’t concentrate. And Bi-Han told him to eliminate distractions. So, you know, it’s sort of his fault if he gets caught out. But yeah. Her prefers proper sex rather than quickies. But they do come in useful and sometimes are needed.

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

He’s down to try new things but nothing risky. He doesn’t want you to be hurt or himself. He has Enenra in him and he cannot risk losing control of that. He’s not sure what he would do to you and he doesn’t want to take that risk. So, to be real, you will have to accept that it’s a big part of him. He wants you to be safe and he knows that means been careful. But there are other ways to experiment without taking huge risks. New locations, him sneaking out to see you, trying new things, more on that later.

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

He’s a ninja. He’s got some stamina on him. He can go for one long round and recover quickly. Or he can do shorter rounds. Short to him is around the half an hour mark, long is pushing the one-hour mark maybe one and a half. He can recover fast though.

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

He’s down for some experimentation with toys. They don’t seem very risky. Saying that, he is not into pegging, there’s an element of control in there he is not keen on. But he’s fine to use toys to spice things up. Different types of lube, vibrators… but he also has his powers which he is down for using. He’s mastered them so you know, best toy of all. Who knew smoke could do this to you?! You’ll never think of the smoke leaving the kettle the same again.

·       U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can tease and doesn’t mind a little bit of light teasing. Such as talking about how you’re blushing, ghosting over your skin, taking his time. And he doesn’t mind this been done to him. He draws the line when it pushes past light teasing and goes into the realm of submission. He doesn’t do begging and it makes him uncomfortable. As long as he has some control over the situation, he will be fine. But it’s mainly light teasing. So, no chastity style teasing. That’s not happening. That’s not teasing his mind, and it’s a major turn off for him and it’s not great for him. BE GENTLE WITH HIM!

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

For someone who is very quiet in most situations. He can be very loud when fucking. A lot of moans and groans, some filthy words been uttered under his breath. Some of them are in English, some of them are in Czech. What is he saying? He could be reading the fucking phonebook, but you do not give a fuck. His voice is a lot deeper in his native tongue, so there’s that. He does cum loudly sometimes; depends how long it has been. He has to bite his hand sometimes. He could not live it down if Bi-Han walked in. He could not.

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

SFW: Such a hipster at heart. His room is just a mess of blankets, pillows, string lights and little cacti. But he’s had these things before they were cool. Has like three sets of string lights and drinks IPAs. Wears his hair in a bun because it’s long and gets in his eyes. But like, it’s fine because he’s a ninja, so it’s not a manbun. Is a manbun.

BONUS SFW: Out of all the Lin Kuei Men. Tomas is the one who can pursue a more normal relationship. He doesn’t have titles and rules holding him back. If he wants to go to the city with you on a date, he can. He doesn’t need to watch his PDA, but he still isn’t keen on it. But you can date him without fear of judgement. Because he’s not a Grandmaster or a leader. He’s just your Smokey Boo Bear.

NSFW: His cum has a smokey taste to it. I will die on this hill fight me on this. But yeah, his cum has a bit of a smoked taste to it. Fuck knows why and it’s always a bit on the warmer side. He has once cum, and smoke did come out before he blew his load. Luckily he was just masturbating, so you weren’t there. He says a silent prayer to the Elder Gods every time you fuck. Because he doesn’t want that shit to happen in front of you. Has asked his dick ‘WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?’ A few times. Raiden must have overheard his prayers and consulted with the Elder Gods, because it’s not happened yet. He’s sure he has heard him.

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

He’s on the bigger side of average. Not going to lie. You were not expecting that when you first unbuttoned his jeans. It was jus there, it’s always the quiet ones. He kinda looked at you a bit sheepishly. It’s probably pushing 8” but it’s pretty thick. A nice-looking cock, 10/10 would suck.

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

It’s not super high and wasn’t to begin with. It was more of a chore he had to take care of. But since meeting you and having sex, it has increased a little bit. Sex is intimate and he doesn’t want to just fuck you for the sake of fucking you. Sometimes a need does arrive and if you’re down to fuck then, lock the doors and close the blinds, cos you’re going for a ride! He doesn’t need to have sex every day, but some weeks he feels the need to. So, he really differs. On average sex probably 4-5 times a week. But it can be more, can be less.

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

Smoke struggles to sleep. But he sleeps better in his own bed and with you laying with him. He will fall asleep after you, he likes to make sure you’re settled and safe before drifting off. Is the big spoon and loves burying his head into your hair as he falls asleep.

#Mortal Kombat #Smoke #tomas vrbada #Smoke X reader #Tomas Vrbada x reader #Mortal Kombat 11 #Mk #mk headcanons #Mortal Kombat headcanons #Mortal Kombat x reader #Mk11

[youarejesting]

BTS Seoul mates: Flower Couple.4

[MASTERLIST]

Pairing: Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin has always had the words written on his wrist and when the fans found out they all took turns claiming to be his one and only. However, after a tiring fanmeet and greet Jin finds His Destiny. His Seoul mate.

Announcement:

I am sorry I have failed you.

I was planning on writing a fair amount tonight but I actually think I have a cold my throat has seriously started to burn, I might take some medicine and sleep it off if I can otherwise I might make it worse I am so sorry.

Jin looked beautiful as ever. However, he felt like a wreck. They had performed on stage at the Melon Music Awards. It was an elaborate work of art that had taken weeks to prepare training gruelling hours to perform perfectly and it all paid off. Except for the minor setback to Namjoon’s package, but he was hearing about it now. 

“I swear I was going to die, I was changing a new timing belt, and you decided it was a good time to hit yourself in the balls, I have never received a hit to the vagina before. Hell, I was crying on the repair and service floor. How are your balls?”

Jhope and Jungkook broke out in laughter. They had never heard anyone outright ask such a personal and hilarious question. They knew he would never be able to live it down. 

Namjoon blushed quietly trying to answer, “they are fine, we have to go, so I will call you when we get back to the hotel”

Jimin turned to Jin and grabbed his shoulder, looking seriously concerned. “Jin, How are your balls”

“What’s wrong with your balls?” You said walking into the dressing room with the other soulmates who stopped looking serious. The room fell silent at your words for a mere second before the boys erupted in laughter, Namjoon’s face turned bright red. 

Jimin laughed with his whole body and slipped off the arm of the couch, falling onto his plump backside. Aster rushed to his side lifting him bending him over the arm “Jiminie your poor Jibooty” Giggling and practically laying over him Aster rubbed Jimin’s butt making sure he didn’t break his tail bone. Well, that’s what Jin thought she was doing until she gasped looking Jin dead in the eyes. “Oh no Jimin your butt, it’s cracked in two”

The band members and their soulmates were hysterically falling over one another at the jokes and they took two large Starex vans back to Hannam The Hill. They passed through the security and parked in the lock-up garage. Namjoon Groaned getting out of the van still a little tender. They all headed up to their adjacent apartments in the elevator. The group separated and Jin went to his room and showered, scrubbing the sweat and fine dust from his skin.

He didn’t want to leave the shower, his muscles in his hips and shoulder alluding to his hard work on stage. After finally leaving the shower, he dried his hair and felt a warm feeling on his rest. The link between you and Jin was still strong. When Jin or yourself touched the words on your wrists, the other was always able to feel it. It was a warm tingle like a secure hand wrapping around your wrist.

He placed his lips to the mark and walked out to his room. There you sat on his bed fresh from a shower and your hair dry, you were wearing an oversized RJ shirt and underwear with RJ on the back, but you knew he didn’t know this because you were tucked under the blankets. 

“I am so tired, my beautiful blossom” He sighed pulling back the blankets, he saw a small splash of colour on your shirt and moved the blanket back entirely. “Ah, my son” 

“Yeah, I ordered some stuff I thought you might like”

“I love it,” he said staring at the ceiling, “I would kiss you but I am exhausted my sweetpea”

“It’s okay, I understand, you get some beauty sleep, but not too much I can only fight off so many girls”

“come here, my flower and lay in my arms” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, but can roll me to face you and move my arms around you”

“You're so tired” cooing as you turned him onto his side and lifted his arm and wrapped it around your waist pressing your lips to his sharing a sweet and slow kiss.

He whispered against your lips, “I keep falling in love with you over and over again”

You gently massaged his shoulders and chest trying to relieve the muscles he had exerted on stage. All while sharing sweet kisses that tasted like the strawberry champagne they had all been drinking at the MMA’s.

Waking early, all the Soulmates had decided to make the boys some pancakes as their own celebratory gift. They had snuck out of their rooms and Beau was laughing silently holding her side. She tried to explain between fits of silent laughter and wheezing that she had to tie Jungkook to the bed so he would follow and they all giggled getting to work.

Each taking care to make their own personal pancakes, Beau and Iris made extra for Namjoon and Hoseok who were texted to stay in bed when they work. Delivering the trays to Namjoon and Hoseok first, they congratulated them and move on to their rooms to spoil their men. Stepping inside you smiled at Jin who was laying in bed awake.

“Can you take the tray honey,” Watching him eating happily was a blessing, you turned and slipped off the pants so you could be comfortable in shirt and underwear once more. Jin coughed a piece of pancake from his trachea. 

“You have RJ on your panties” he shouted laughing loudly, and you heard laughing from the next room.

“Babe, can you wear, Chimmy underwear?” Jimin’s voice was muffled through the wall and Aster couldn’t stop laughing. “I won’t accept anything less than Chimmy underwear”

“What about if Aster wore no underwear Jimin?” Melody called from across the hall. Jin looked at you. His mouth fell open. You both covered your mouths laughing at the trouble you had started.

“I believe you would prefer my love when you aren’t wearing any underwear, my beautiful melody,” Yoongi’s voice could just be heard followed by a squeal. 

“Yoongi you just got golden syrup on my elbow”

“Let me get that for you”

“Can you guys get a room?” Jhope groaned, “Why are all of you in our apartment, anyway”

“Because Jungkook is in the other apartment and well, we can’t deal with the commotion” 

 It was late in the morning when the two of you emerged from the bed the boys had free time on their schedule until just after Jin’s birthday. Where they were heading to Japan for the magic shop Fanmeet. And for the first time ever you would go on stage and introduce yourselves to the fans and be included in some activities.

You were a little nervous; you had learnt Korean when you realized the first words your soulmate said to you were in Korean. But you didn’t know Japanese. All the girls seemed nervous about this, except Aster who had actually learnt Japanese before Korean and would often mix her languages together.

Iris was still learning Korean and was slowly getting closer with the other soulmates and band members. Beau being smart like Namjoon was picking up the concepts of speech quite easily. Jin couldn’t wait to show the army their soul mates. 

He walked into the room to hear you practising your speech. “Hello Army, My name is y/n. I am so happy to be here in Japan and I have had so many wonderful and unique experiences since arriving,” The smile that formed on Jin’s face was pure. He really loved you.

If you want to join the tags just send an ask:@latina-nerd​

#bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #bts x reader #bts imagines #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts smut #bts fluff #bts soulmate au #bts sm au #soulmate au #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #jin x reader #suga x reader #jhope x reader #namjoon x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jin x reader fluff #jin x reader smut #bts jin #jin x reader soulmate

[dvp95]

throw your head back laughing

pairing: chris kendall/pj liguori rating: teen & up tags: outsider pov, au, established relationship, idiots in love word count: 1657 summary: Cara has to wonder how much of it is performative. Of course she does; everything she knows about this game points to them being in a Scene of some sort. They seem to genuinely enjoy each other's company, if nothing else.

written for the LOVELY @jestbee <3 happy goddamn birthday jane!!!!!! you’ve been such a good pal to me and i hope i can make you smile with this stupid thing!!!!!

read on ao3 or here!

"Hello, welcome to -" Cara cuts herself off in the middle of her spiel when she looks up from the podium. Two men stand in front of her for probably the ninth time this year, matching grins on their faces as they watch the recognition wash over her. She smiles, closer to a real one than a customer service one, and gestures behind her. "Your table is available. Do you need me to escort you?"

"Thanks, love," one of them says with a wink, "but I think we can manage."

He takes his companion by the sleeve and makes a beeline for a table near the middle of the restaurant, the same one they always go for. Cara bites back a laugh as she makes eye contact with one of the waitstaff.

Nate makes a big show of sighing and turning back around to tell the kitchen at large about their arrivals. She can't hear it from here, but Cara knows that people who have been here long enough are either thrilled or frustrated, and the new hires are probably just confused. When Nate is looking at her again, Cara taps her glasses and holds up three fingers. He makes a note on his order pad. She wonders how big the betting pool is going to be this time.

The men are, as always, ensconced in their own little world the moment their asses hit the seats. Their long legs overlap under the table in a comfortable, familiar sort of way, and they talk to each other with such dramatic hand gestures that Cara wishes she could hear the topic that's got them so riled up.

Sometimes she makes excuses to walk by their table and eavesdrop. So far she's learned that they're passionate about science fiction, craft supplies, what specific colour the ceiling is painted, and gender expression. It doesn't seem to matter if they're talking about the sliding scale of acceptable femininity for men to show in public or how easy it would be to build a robot out of cardboard - they have the same amount of enthusiasm, every time.

Cara has to wonder how much of it is performative. Of course she does; everything she knows about this game points to them being in a Scene of some sort. They seem to genuinely enjoy each other's company, if nothing else.

It's always a strange atmosphere for the first half hour or so after they've been seated. They talk and they eat and they seem oblivious to the wary eyes of the staff around them, even though anyone with half a brain knows they're fully aware of the attention on them. The only time they left without anything happening was when the place was practically empty and there was no audience of unsuspecting patrons for their nonsense.

That had been a different sort of anticipation. Like the whole building had been waiting for a beat that never dropped. The men had left without fanfare, and every employee had gone home perplexed.

The general consensus, up to that point, had been that they did this for the free food and champagne, but their need for some kind of audience opened up a Pandora's box of possible motivations. Nate's convinced that they're doing some sort of social experiment, one of the line chefs thinks they must be YouTubers or something, and a very optimistic new waitress has been positing that maybe it's genuine every time.

"Maybe one of them has short term memory problems," she'd explained to Cara. "Or they're very on-again off-again."

Cara had nodded along at the time, but she's not buying it. It's the grins on their faces every time they meet her at the hostess podium that convince her they know exactly what they're up to.

As far as Cara can tell, they might just do it for the hell of it.

Forty-something minutes after the men are seated, the signs start to show themselves. Cara drifts over to Nate and nudges him, interrupting his bussing for something much more entertaining. He grins and turns around. Neither of them make an effort to hide that they're staring, because it's happened seven or so times before.

The man in glasses is twitching like he's nervous, all of a sudden, and keeps patting at the same spot in his jacket. Cara might find it sweet if she hadn't seen it so many times.

"Ha," she whispers. "Told you it was him this time."

"They don't have a pattern," Nate argues. He's always a little prickly when he loses.

"But only one of them is wearing a jacket," Cara points out. "So obviously, it was going to be him. Is it a 50/50 split again?"

Nate sighs and shakes his head, pulling out his notepad as the men start talking in low voices across the small table. "No, most people guessed the other guy. You're only splitting the win with two of the cooks."

"Nice."

It seems like Nate wants to whinge some more, but then the man in glasses is standing up. The waitstaff all pause in what they're doing and turn to look, prompting the other diners to look as well. With hilariously awkward movements for how practised Cara knows the motion is, he drops to one knee and takes his companion's hand in both of his own. Some of the diners gasp or whisper amongst themselves; the waitstaff mostly just seem annoyed to lose the pool.

"Christopher," the man starts. His voice trembles the perfect amount, and Cara is reluctantly impressed by how sincere they make this seem every time.

"Oh my god," Christopher stage whispers. Cara wonders if that's actually his name.

"We've been friends for so long," the man continues, "and I've been so deeply in love with you for most of those years - I couldn't believe it when you first agreed to see a film with me in a non-platonic sort of way."

Out of the corner of his mouth, Nate murmurs, "What the hell is that accent? I can't place it for the life of me."

"Not sure," says Cara. "He just sort of sounds like he's on telly, doesn't he? Like a presenter?"

"D'you think there are hidden cameras?"

"Surely we'd have seen it somewhere if there were."

"But why else -"

"Shh," says Cara.

They're all so familiar with this song and dance that she knows Christopher is going to fan at his face with his free hand and then start tearing up. Watching him cry on demand is her favourite part. They can argue about motivations once they've left.

Sure enough, Christopher is wiping at his eyes and grinning down at his partner in crime. "Are you serious? Of course I'll marry you."

The other diners applaud politely when the men embrace. Cara makes a mental note of those who aren't, those who roll their eyes and mutter things to their companions, those who look upset when Christopher tugs the other man into a short, sweet kiss. She's not sure if it's a perk or a curse to know which of their regulars hate her, but it's certainly useful to know who to sit by the loo.

"Better bring them their celebratory fucking champagne," Nate sighs.

"Every goddamn time," Cara says, unable to hide the fondness in her voice. She can't help but root for these idiots. "Don't forget to comp their food."

"That's not even why they do this," says Nate. He's whinging, but Cara knows it's not actually a bother to him.

Nate's right; the free food and champagne clearly isn't the reason they've proposed to each other a half dozen times in the middle of their restaurant, but it's probably a bonus. Just like weeding out the homophobes on the staff is a bonus.

When everyone goes back to their dinners and their jobs and the newly-engaged-again men are back in their seats, Cara approaches them.

"Congratulations," she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. She sees the way Christopher's eyes linger on her interlocked Venus tattoo. He holds tighter to his fiancé's hand and gives her the same shit-eating grin as whenever they ask her for a table.

"Thanks, love."

"I'm Cara," she says, tapping at her name tag. "Just so you know how to address the invitation."

The man in glasses laughs, loud. He still seems like he's performing in some way, but a look passes between them and makes his voice softer, less put-on. "I promise that we would," he says, "except that we got married eight years ago."

Cara bites back a cackle of her own and shakes her head, trying not to make eye contact with any of her curious coworkers. She's definitely keeping this one to herself - you never know when another opportunity to win a betting pool will present itself, after all - so she doesn't exactly want to draw attention to the conversation.

"Alright," she says. "I better go back to work."

"Don't you want to know why we do this?" the man in glasses asks, sounding a bit put out.

Cara shrugs. "For the hell of it, right?"

Another look passes between them, and Christopher tips an invisible hat to her. "Pretty and smart, eh? Do you accept tips?"

Technically, no. And while she thinks she probably deserves one for this, Cara knows she's got a good chunk of everyone else's tip money tonight.

"Do you?" she asks instead. "Because I've got a tip for ya. You should try saying no next time."

"Saying no?" Christopher echoes, grinning across the table.

"We haven't tried that," his husband agrees. "Not as much fun, maybe, but surely the sympathy from it will make up for that."

"Plus, I can cry more."

Cara snorts and heads back to her podium. As curious as she is, she thinks it'll be more fun to wait and see how it pans out the next time they wander in to shake things up.

#words words words

[nigelgodrichproducer]

Nigel Q&A in The Guardian

https://www.theguardian.com/culture/live/2020/feb/21/nigel-godrich-webchat-ultraista-radiohead-producer

Nigel did a very nice Q&A for The Guardian. Reproduced here for posterity’s sake: 

Q: I saw Atoms for Peace at the Roundhouse [in London]. The lot of you seemed exceptionally into it. How much of a thrill was it to play with Flea? He seemed totally lost in the gig at points. I think Flea is one of the greatest human beings I've ever had the good fortune to spend time with, let alone make music with. He's such a generous player and probably my most rock'n'roll moment is standing on stage staring at his face 6 inches from mine, or when he jumps up on my riser. Massive respect to that guy, and you should read his book. Q: Nowadays, I’m asked to master tracks for Instagram and Spotify as opposed to vinyl and CD. What’s your view about how streaming has affected everything? – John Davis, Metropolis Mastering That's what my book's going to be about... Q: How do you use intuition as a tool in your productions and how do you know when something you are working on is finished? You mentioned Talk Talk and Mark Hollis – he stopped when he thought he could not add anything new. Can you imagine yourself doing something entirely different? Definitely. And it has crossed my mind many times - working more in visuals, videos, even film. But these days the hard thing is finding the time, when you keep getting sucked into exciting things you want to do, and can do. I could definitely write a book and I've enjoyed doing stuff on radio. Q: Is there any track from any artist you’ve worked with that you are particularly proud of? Something that brings back great memories when you listen to it? Sure! How about Diamond Bollocks from Beck's Mutations? Which was just the studio equivalent of sitting in a hot tub drinking champagne with a bunch of your best mates, and two days very well spent I would say. I'll always enjoy listening back to that sonic postcard. Q: Pavement’s Terror Twilight is one of my favourite albums and sounds incredible. But the band broke up soon after it was released and I understand that relationships were strained. Did you enjoy producing that album, and how do you think it holds up to the rest of your work? Yes I love that record actually, it's one of my favourites and I enjoyed making it immensely. It was such an adventure to fly off to America to make a record with people I hadn't met. Maybe there were some internal politics, as there are in any band, but I made friend forever in Stephen and I think I performed my role well: my idea was to make something that stood up straighter and felt like it might reach people who were turned off by the beautiful sloppiness of other Pavement records. I just thought they were such a good band and wanted them to reach a bigger audience. The writing may have been on the wall even before I got there, but I don't think I had any part of that, and I heard they're getting back to play shows, so there's always a happy ending, right? Q: Any chance of another Basement session? I would love to and plan to do more from the basement. Watch some space somewhere, but it was such an enjoyable thing to do and I look back on it as a great archive of those times. For sure it will happen. Q: Where did the artwork for the new Ultraísta album come from? Part of the fun of doing this album with Laura and Joey is the creative elements of all the stuff that isn't music. So for example we do all our own artwork and videos, and the cover is a photo I took of Laura inspired by one of my favourite photographers, Gjon Mili, a Hungarian-American photographer. We also made a lot of video content which is bleeding out into the universe slowly and relates to the album and its theme of colours, and also includes a lot of footage from the London Underground which is a particular obsession of mine. I'm great at dinner parties. Q: How hard is it making an album? How hard is a piece of string? It totally depends on a million factors. The imperative nature of your delivery date, or maybe just whimsical noodlings that can continue for some time. Or it can be really very hard, and you have to coax people who are struggling through a very difficult process. I feel like I've had every version of this. And it can be quite leisurely, eg the Ultraista record, which was what I would call a country club style social bonanza. We could take our time and work on it when we had time, and even though the challenges were there, it was actually quite natural and easy. Q: What do you listen to as you’re trying to fall asleep? I cannot fall asleep with any music playing, at all. I cannot have sex with any music playing at all. I cannot do any other activity, as my brain just tunes into it involuntarily and I'm rendered incapacitated. Q: How much Marmite do you consume? A daily teaspoon. Q: You seem to shy away from technical-oriented discussions. Any reasons for doing so? A lot of bands have noted how quickly you work and that you’re not too precious about the recording process, yet the final result comes off as meticulous. Do you have any insight into how to move fast and capture the energy of the moment? Do you organise the studio and control room in a way that is responsive to any creative situation? The reason is because I think people attach too much weight to equipment and studio trickery when the reality is I consider the most important part of making records is about musical sensibility and communication with those involved, and the notes, and the words. I get very annoyed with people asking me what my favourite microphone is. It doesn't matter. These days I don't even use the expensive ones. One of the reasons why music has become generally worse, and I'm sorry to say that, is that people think about technology more than the actual music they're making. So sue me. To your second question, see the above answer! The recording process is best when fast, because it's then the smallest obstacle to the actual music. That doesn't mean the end result shouldn't be absolutely meticulous and pored over for hours and reconsidered and reframed and sat in different places, whatever, but how far you keep you kick drum from the mic really doesn't matter. Q: Those of us who shelled out for the deluxe edition of A Moon Shaped Pool also received a small length of half-inch tape alleged to have been retrieved from actual Radiohead sessions dating back to Kid A. Were any lost and unreleased gems included as part of this Willy Wonka-like scavenger hunt, or is my piece of tape likely to contain something disappointing, like Colin Greenwood practising a bass run? This is absolutely true. I was staring at mountains of half inch tape reels from the Kid A sessions and felt sad because they were all very soon going to be unplayable useless bits of plastic that would just contaminate the environment. And thought it would maybe be better to send them off to some people who would appreciate them, so as part of the packaging with Stanley Donwood, we realised we have enough tape to wrap each special edition with a small length of it. On each tape is part of an outtake, alternative mix, instrumental, something that would have been thrown away when it became unplayable. It just felt poetic to send it out into the universe. Unfortunately I don't think people truly understand what they have... Q: What was it like working with Roger Waters? Did you consciously avoid “big guitar solos” to negate it sounding like David Gilmour/Pink Floyd. Roger is a fascinating character, really a genius. The whole experience was incredible, being able to watch this guy thinking his way around things, particularly with words and motifs and conceptual ideas. Again one of my rules in that case was there would be no big guitar solos - in the same way as the McCartney thing, I was interested in another musician, and wanted to hear him speak, and hear his musicality. As the usual formula with his solo work seems to be to find some soundalike, and use that Guitar Hero equation, which I feel is lame. So the decision was to use orchestration as a musical foil to the beauty of his simplicity and songwriting which would keep the light and focus on the words he was writing. And keep the focus of the whole work simpler. Q: I would imagine that very few people question Paul McCartney’s methods in the studio. How difficult (or not) was it to say to him, “How about doing it this way?” during the making of Chaos and Creation in the Backyard? Well, that was the entire point! Like I mentioned before, he called me, so I was able to dictate my terms, so to speak. My general appraisal was that I was more interested in him rather than the people around him, so persuading him to play everything was part of the "method" that allowed us to move forward with this work. That worked very well. His charm as a musician is astronomic and undeniable, he's a very intelligent musical person. He was very brave and put up with a lot of crap from me - he could have told me to fuck off at any point, but he really met in the middle to see this experiment through, and I left with even more respect for him than when I went in. Q: Really curious if you like classical music, and if so which pieces? Would you consider doing Big Ears festival [in Tennessee]? Yes, I would not claim to be an aficionado in any respect, but I'm a big fan of Debussy's Preludes, and one of my favourite pieces of music is his Arabesque No 1. I also love Prokofiev in general, and Erik Satie's Gymnopedies really get me going on a Sunday. Q: Is it true that much of The King of Limbs was recorded with the software Max/MSP? If it is true, how much of a hand did you have in programming and using Max/MSP? Jonny Greenwood seems to have taken all the credit … This is basically bollocks. I went to a dinner party 15 years ago and sat next to a Stanford grad who told me about this software, Max/MSP, and took it back to Johnny. He's used it on and off on lots of things, as have I. King of Limbs is made up of everyone throwing pieces of audio together - Johnny used Max/MSP in that case to link up a turnable via a piece of software called Miss Pinky. The result was a huge and gigantic mess that took me about a year and a half to unravel, and then Thom wrote over the top. So there you have it. Q: Thank you for your inspiring work! Do you have a favourite Joni Mitchell album? Joni Mitchell is my favourite human artist of all time, she is incredible. I have to give you a top three. 1. Hejira 2. The Hissing of Summer Lawns 3. For the Roses But would say all of her output between Blue and Mingus is untouchable. She is a unique combination of musical and lyrical talent. She's pretty much the only person I find can write a narrative lyrically that can remain poetic but articulating, communicating, beyond the abstract; it's very specific and very beautiful. And as a musician she dug deep into so many vats of folk and jazz, still managing to spin her incredible voice into the mix. Q: Created an account just for this. I’m a human person who enjoys audio production and engineering a lot. I’m quite shy when it comes to working with other interesting music folk, mainly down to the fact I have no idea how to write a melody. I love sounds and atmospheres, making things sound full and all that great stuff. The question I’m really getting at is: when was the first time you knew you could do this? Did that moment happen at all? And how has your relationship to music evolved? Bit of a belter of a question, but you asked for this so I don’t feel bad. I think I realised, retrospectively, that from an early age I had a fascination for recording. My dad worked at the BBC as a sound man and as a child I was surrounded by the tools of his trade so I always watched enviously and wanted to play with things. When I was very young I asked for a machine to make records, like really young, and he told me in his calm wise way: no I couldn't. But he bought me a cassette machine, so I could go around and record things: the TV, the train set, running water, things that sounded interesting when they were played back. I always aspired when I started recording music in studios, I tried to emulate my heroes, like the Trevor Horns, but found what worked best was going with the things I could do well which were an organic-ness to sound, rather than a clinical shinyness, which I loved to listen to. Making a dark brown soup was more my skill, that making a big fairy cake. I was wise to go with the things I was good at - isn't that the art of life? Q: What compels you to commit to a project? Is it a different circumstance each time? Can you please produce Keane’s next album? Tom Chaplin is a fan, I’m sure you know! Yes definitely, every project is different, but I would say I'm very wary of people's preconceptions and expectations, and generally my first question to them is: what do you think I'm going to do? Just so they don't have some idea that I'm going to repeat something I've done before or make them sound like someone else I've worked with. Generally I can make a fair appraisal of whether I have something valuable to contribute and will generally like what we can do together. I'm not under any illusion that I can improve someone I'm already a fan of so I never approach anyone  – they have to ask me. Q: Are you a night owl? If so, how do you deal with society’s preference for early birds? Do you suffer from insomnia? Hell yes. Nothing great happens before dinner. I have always been like this, I have always leapt out of my bunk bed as a child at 3am to run across and start building something out of a piece of wood, or do a drawing- all creativity happens in my brain at night. I deal with the unfair preference of early birds in society by having chosen a career whereby I get to dictate my hours. I wouldn't dream of starting a working day before lunchtime. Producers start flowing over coffees at dinnertime. I like the isolation at night - there's no background noise, and you can really focus. And also night, it's has a dark cloak of melancholy which makes you connect to something inside, in a way you can't do when the sun is shining. Daytimes are for nice walks in the park - nighttimes are for sitting alone at a laptop. Q: What state are the songs in when you start working with an artist? What is the variant that most changes in the production process? Structure, aesthetics, sound? Love from Argentina! Every single version of the process is different. Sometimes you have everything completely written; siometimes it's a case of building a song from a fragment of audio that's created abstractly, which is the case with Thom's solo work and a lot of Radiohead work. Even if a song is finished you can still improve it with editing and working out what it's strengths and weaknesses are. And also how to present it as an orchestration, or sonically if there's a trick you can use to make it pull you in. I like all versions of this, because they use different parts of your brain, but sometimes it's great to be given amazing songs and a blank slate to make them happen - that hasn't happened for a while! :-) Q: You’ve worked with countless musicians. Do you adapt to their work process, do you propose a process, or is it an exchange? And with Ultraísta, specifically, did you have the same process with the second album [Sister, out in March] as with the first? Did all the time in between the two influence the way you produced an album together? Can’t wait to listen to Sister! There are no rules to methodology, in fact the skill is creating a new method each time that will generate work which will generate output, which then becomes the work. Every time you start with a band that's two guitars, bass and drums you hit the same brick wall, and it's my job to think of a quick fun way to kick the ball out of the pitch, and remain focused enough to catch it when it gets thrown back in again. With Ultraista, what started as an exercise in wordplay and groove construction on the first record this time has become a more refined process and in an effort to make more song like structures. We are all indeed different people from when we made the first things and we're amused by different things, so thus the goalposts move - to keep the metaphor going - and the method changes. Q: Which producers and which records inspired you as a young would-be producer? As a kid, I was obsessed with Regatta de Blanc by the Police, and saw it was produced by Nigel Gray. A lightbulb went off that there was someone called Nigel doing this stuff. In terms of influences, there are ones with mythological status, like George Martin, or Trevor Horn, both of whose work I absolutely love for different reasons. Martin for his inventiveness and creative approach to the technology of the day, ie the new possibilities of multitrack tape, and the use of visual devices like sound effects. Trevor Horn for his obtuseness and skill as making artful pop music using, again, the tech of the day. Which could make bend and shape things to become bigger than real life and make the brain do somersaults. And then more direct practical influences on me such as the people who actually taught me, including Phil Thornalley, John Leckie, Steve Lillywhite, and others. These are people I watched directly and emulated. Q: What is your feeling/relationship with failure? Don’t mean to be a downer, just curious to learn about your journey when overcoming failure. This is a very good question. It also depends on where you're standing. A lot of things could have been better or were small failures, small battles in a larger war. You regard as part of the process moving forward what the end goal is you're trying to succeed. I wouldn't regard any of my work as massive successes as they're all attempts to achieve the unachievable. However, if you're referring to something like the Strokes episode, it wasn't a failure, neither of us walked away hurt from that experience. It was just fascinating. And everything else has been successful, hasn't it?? Q: It’s been a year since the great Mark Hollis passed away. How much of an influence were/are Talk Talk on the Radiohead sound and your work with the band as producer? For me, personally, I was a massive Talk Talk fan and I used to listen to those records endlessly, certainly Laughing Stock and Spirit of Eden. I think they were again things that really plugged into your feelings - our version of a classical symphony that you would start and listen through to the end. Q: Which album has the best atmosphere in its production? I can never get over how rich and ghostly Time Out of Mind by Bob Dylan and Daniel Lanois is. Every record is different and you feel different about every record as time passes, but I think In Rainbows is very evocative due to hte space we recorded it in. All the ambience on that record is real, it comes from the house we recorded it in, so that conjures up a very visual image for me when I think of that record. Also Beck's Sea Change is a very emotional record, evocative, which somehow crystallised perfectly sonically to me, and if I hear any part of it it takes me back to that time. Which I regard as a job well done. It's a conduit to your feelings, which is a goal, it's what you're trying to do. Q: When you’re making a record, do you try to listen to as much other music as possible to spark ideas? Or do you do the opposite – try and isolate any external music to not get thrown off what you set out to make? When I'm working on a project I don't listen to anything else, it's not out of choice, I'm just compelled to be focused on what I'm thinking about, and it stays with me when I leave the studio. I literally don't want to hear anyone else's music!

#nigel godrich #radiohead #beck #ultraista #roger waters #pink floyd #paul mccartney #the beatles #record production

[stevie-baby]

@satans-helper​ thank you for tagging me love! This week has been rough, I have had a shit day looking for jobs, but now I’ve got a beer and I’m answering this because self care or whatever. Leggo!

1. What is your middle name?

Marlene

2. How old are you?

19

3. When is your birthday?

August 20th

4. What is your zodiac sign?

Leo sun; Capricorn rising; Taurus moon

5. What is your favourite colour?

Orange

6. What’s your lucky number?

8 or 20

7. Do you have any pets?

not any more :( but growing up I had a corgi mix named Lulu. She was dope. Fun lil origin story about her: my mom missed the majority of my first birthday becuase she had to stay late at work becuase her coworker’s dog was having puppies and had to leave early. My mom was like “Angela if I’m gonna be late for my kids birthday celebration can I at least get first pick of the puppies?” So when the puppies were finally able to go to different homes, my mom sat little one year old me in their pen to let me pick the one we’d take home. Something drew me to the runt of the litter (maybe it was the fact that she didn’t straight up attack me like her brothers and sisters) and she lived a happy 16 and a half years with us.

8. Where are you from?

Southern California

9. How tall are you?

5'6

10. What shoe size are you?

Womens 11 but I usually wear a mens 9.5 because I have wide feet

11. How many pairs of shoes do you own?

Like 7 pairs (none of which are cowboy boots or gogo boots which is a travesty)

12. What was your last dream about?

I don’t remember but I know it wasn’t anything malicious, so that’s good.

13. What talents do you have?

I play instruments and I sing. I also do art occasionally.

14. Are you psychic in any way?

I wouldn’t say psychic but I am pretty in tune with the universe. But I do also have dreams that have to do with fertility that are like super heavy with symbolism and are oddly prophetic. I call them my egg dreams. If y’all wanna hear about them I make a post about them or something. 

15. Favourite song?

At the moment it is When the Levee Breaks by Led Zeppelin

16. Favourite movie?

Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure

17. Who would be your ideal partner?

Honestly? Honestly??? Sam Kiszka. I’ve always been into bassists and lanky boys with long dark hair, so he’s perfect. Also, I love his personality. He’s just magnetic and Joy is a lucky gal :)

18. Do you want children?

Not really. I’m 19, barely an adult, so kids aren’t in my plans right now. I’m not sure if they’ll ever be in my plans. But if I do decide I want children one day, I would want to have more than one because I am an only child and I wouldn’t want that for my kid. It gets lonely and I will never know or understand the bond that siblings have. Also I’d want adopt and foster some kids.

19. Do you want a church wedding?

Nope unless you count a chapel in Vegas as a church wedding. 

20. Are you religious?

Not religious, never grew up practising anything, but I’m spiritual.

21. Have you ever been to the hospital?

Ooof I was always in and out of the hospital. I was always sick or getting injured.

22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law?

Not yet

23. Have you ever met any celebrities?

Quite a few. The most memorable experiences were pouring champagne for Drake Bell when I worked at the country club and when Jack Barakat from All Time Low and Ashley Purdy from Back Veil Brides were hitting on my mom,

24. Baths or showers?

Baths are really therapeutic but I feel bad because I’m not conserving water :(

25. What color socks are you wearing?

I’m barefoot babey ;) I’m starting to feel this beer 

26. Have you ever been famous?

Nope

27. Would you like to be a big celebrity?

Maybe, but probably not 

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

Documenting that I’m now on my second Modelo, just so y’all know.

┈┈┈┈┈◦•✩•◦┈┈┈┈┈

28. What type of music do you like?

All types honestly. I stray more toward rock though.

29. Have you ever been skinny dipping?

Let me tell you the story. So yes, I have skinny dipped. I was very not sober that night, much like tonight, and I was at a sleepover at my friend’s house on the lake. So all of us drunk 16 year olds were like “FUCK YEAH” and skinny dipped on the coldest night in February. It was transcendent. Later that night I gave myself a stck n poke tattoo :)

30. How many pillows do you sleep with?

3 of em. One under my head, one between my knees, and one to hug

31. What position do you usually sleep in?

on my side, spoonin a pillow

32. How big is your house?

Big enough :)

33. What do you typically have for breakfast?

coffee and OCCASIONALLY a plain eggo waffle

34. Have you ever fired a gun?

yup. took a gun safety class.

35. Have you ever tried archery?

yeah

36. Favourite clean word?

apothecary 

37. Favorite swear word?

fuck (issa classic)

38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep?

74 hours. I was tweaking HARD and crying my fucking eyes out

39. Do you have any scars?

Yup

40. Have you ever had a secret admirer?

this would be a good time for someone to confess their love for me 👀

41. Are you a good liar?

I’m fantastic at lying

42. Are you a good judge of character?

I’d like to think so

43. Can you do any other accents other than your own?

a lot of em

44. Do you have a strong accent?

I was back in California for 4 and a half months, so my valley girl accent came back and stronger than ever.

45. What is your favourite accent?

Australian or Midwestern

46. What is your personality type?

old man in a teenage girl’s body

47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing?

One of my formal dresses that was like $120

48. Can you curl your tongue?

yee

49. Are you an innie or an outie?

innie

50. Left or right-handed?

I’m ambidextrous

51. Are you scared of spiders?

not particularly

52. Favourite food?

Bean and cheese burrito or carne asada fries

53. Favourite foreign food?

Mexican food, but Chinese food is also near and dear to me (they’re kinda not foreign to me because I’m Chinese and Mexican

54. Are you a clean or messy person?

I’m messy in an organized way.

55. Most used phrase?

“Fuckin siiiiiiick, dude” and yes I sound like Nick Colletti when I say it. No, I’m not doing an impression, I’m just from SoCal and sound like a skater dude

56. Most used word?

fuck

57. How long does it take for you to get ready?

About an hour or so

58. Do you have much of an ego?

I’m a Leo and I fit the description

59. Do you suck or bite lollipops?

Lick

60. Do you talk to yourself?

Uh yeah who doesn’t????

61. Do you sing to yourself?

Always

62. Are you a good singer?

I’m not bad ;) I’m just a bit out of practice 

63. Biggest Fear?

failure i guess i dunno

64. Are you a gossip?

I was going to say no but I can’t lie. I don’t spread shit, but I’ll listen to some tea.

65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen?

Mid 90s was pretty intense. I dunno that’s the only one coming to mind at the momento

66. Do you like long or short hair?

depends on my mood

67. Can you name all 50 states of America?

I’m just gonna say no. 

68. Favourite school subject?

History or science! Loved em

69. Extrovert or Introvert?

Major introvert

70. Have you ever been scuba diving?

Hell naw. I can’t even watch underwater scenes in movies because I get anxious and I feel like I’m drowning

71. What makes you nervous?

Love/being loved

72. Are you scared of the dark?

Lil bit

73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes?

yup and I do it politely so people can learn from it because I’m not a fuckin dick and I want people to thrive

74. Are you ticklish?

Yes

75. Have you ever started a rumour?

Not that I’m aware of

76. Have you ever been in a position of authority?

I was on student council does thaf countt??? I got put in charge of prom 2 years in a row because the peoplw that were put in charge fucked up and dropped the ball.

77. Have you ever drank underage?

Currently am. Not the first time nor will it be the last.

78. Have you ever done drugs?

Yeah, yeah I have.

79. Who was your first real crush?

This kid in first grade who had moved here from Russia. We were sat next to each other because our names both started with Z. He was fucking rad. i helped him study for his citizenship test and taught me phrases in Russian. 

80. How many piercings do you have?

seis. five in my ears and one in my nostril

81. Can you roll your R’s?

Yup yup yup. I speak Spanish so its kinda essential

82. How fast can you type?

Fast enough

83. How fast can you run?

I’m asthmatic and have bad feet/knees/hips/spine, ya know what my bones are fucked upp let’s justgo with that

84. What colour is your hair?

Dark brown, almost black.

85. What color is your eyes?

Brown

86. What are you allergic to?

Cats :( and pollen and shit like that

87. Do you keep a journal?

yeah imean i forget about it sometimes but its nice to vent or reminisce

88. What do your parents do?

They both work in the automotivw industry at separate companies on separate sides of the country

89. Do you like your age?

Nope. I’m at a weird transitional phase of being an adult but also still a kid but I don’t relate to most teenagers and I also can’t legally drink here in the states. Issa bummer ya know???.

90. What makes you angry?

We don’t have time for this and i ont have the mental capacity for iteither

91. Do you like your own name?

Fuck no. My name is Zoeie, acomplicated variant of Zoe. Its dumb and I misspell t a lot becauseI’m a whole dumbass and I remember in like fifth grade there was four other gorls wiyh the same name and we all spelled it differentlu (oooo I’m buzzed) Also, dann the man wagner’s dog is named Zoeie and I’m like coolcoolcooltighttighttight I have the same name as his dog thats fuckin siiiiick dude sarcassssssm it bums me out and i dunno why (I’d rather go by Zee or Z on here but if you want to call me Zoeie that’s fine, I’m ccool with it, I just think its dumb because of the spelling its actually not that bad of a name i’m just buzzed and salty)

92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

I don’t really wantt kids but if I were ever to have gremlins I’d say Stephanie Renee (Stephanie after Stevie Nicks and we’d use Stevie as her nickname; Renee is my mom’s middle name) for a hypothetical daughter and Harrison James (Harrison after the fucking superior Beatle; James after Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix. Basically just after guitar gods) for a hypothetical son. But I’m assuming there’d be another person involved in making that decision in that situation soooo

93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child?

I am but a wee child, I don;’t want chilren. Also why the fuck would I want something specific??? you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit. Love your children or some shit like that.

94. What are you strengths?

I can get up in the morning and I thinf that;s real swell of me

95. What are your weaknesses?

I’m a fucking perffectionist anand I get in myown head a lot

96. How did you get your name?

I was nameless for the first day of my life and this was the first name my parents agreed on. Its spelled real fuckin dumb though. And my middle name was my grandma’s middle name.

97. Were your ancestors royalty?

Naw but they were royal guards wayyy back in the Ming dynasty. 

98. Do you have any scars?

am i tripppin large wit no luggage or did i answer this arleady???? the answer is yeah

99. Colour of your bedspread?

Navy

100. Colour of your room?

its cream we’re renting this place booooo

I don’t thinkk I’mma tag anyone because my braindoen’;t want to work ahora mismo and I can’t think of who to tag but I LOVE y’all even if idon;t talk to you I love you and appeciate you thank you if you read this :,)

#drunk zee #tag game #learn a something about me #whendid i become a fuckin lightweight?] #it was that four motnhs of sobriety i tell ya

[thegirl20]

TITLE: How can the light that burned so brightly (Suddenly burn so pale?) Part 2 AUTHOR: thegirl20 FANDOM: Emmerdale PAIRING: Charity/Vanessa, general family stuff SUMMARY: Rubble’s got a tummy ache. (Part of the Dragonverse) RATING: General WORD COUNT: ~2,300

AO3 | ff.net or below

They're hand in hand as they walk up the steps in front of the Woolpack. Vanessa leans into Charity, bumping their shoulders together. "That was nice. Thank you."

Charity glances at her and shakes her head with a smile. "It was a toastie at Bob's cafe, babe. Not champagne at the Ritz."

"It was an hour of no kids and no Paddy and Pearl. And a toastie." She pulls Charity to a halt just outside the door that leads to the bar and goes up on her toes to peck her cheek. "And you. So it was perfect."

Charity makes a show of sighing. "Aren't you supposed to get less soppy after you're married? Not more soppy? In my experience, at least."

"That's 'cause you've been marrying the wrong people," Vanessa tells her with a wink.

"Oh, is that what it is?" Charity tugs on her hand until they're flush against each other. "Lucky I eventually found the right one then, yeah?"

Vanessa links her hands behind Charity's neck and pulls her into a soft kiss. "So, so lucky," she murmurs against her lips. A cough sounds from behind her and she turns to find Robert smirking at them.

"Don't mind me." He nods to the door that they're blocking. "Just trying to get in for a quiet lunchtime pint."

"Yeah, and we're just trying to have a quiet lunchtime snog," Charity snaps.

Shaking her head, Vanessa pats Charity's arm and moves around her to open the door, gesturing for Robert to enter. Charity glares at him as he passes her, but it's mostly for show these days. Vanessa takes her hand again and tugs her into the bar.

"Nice lunch?" Chas asks, leaning her elbows on the bar as they approach.

"It was lovely," Vanessa tells her. "Thanks for watching the boys. Did they behave?"

"Johnny has been such a good help with keeping his little cousin entertained" Chas says, with a fond look over at the corner where Johnny's reading a picture book to Hope, who's hanging on his every word. "Isn't that right, JD?"

Johnny looks up and smiles when he sees his parents. "Auntie Chas says I'm a angel."

"Auntie Chas hasn't had to try to get you into a bath lately, has she?" Charity says, raising her eyebrows at him, making him giggle guiltily. "'Cause you're no angel then, Johnnykins, I can tell you." She turns back to Chas. "So where's the devil child, then?"

"Oi! Don't call him that!" Vanessa says, backhanding Charity's chest gently.

"Through the back. Paddy looked in on him not long ago, said he was playing away happily." Chas lifts her eyebrows as she goes to serve Robert. "And quietly. So I've left him to it."

"Quietly," Vanessa repeats, frowning slightly. "Doesn't sound much like our Moses."

"He's fixin' Rubble," Johnny calls over.

"How d'you mean, 'fixing Rubble', love?" Vanessa asks, with a glance at Charity.

Johnny shrugs. "Rubble had a tummy ache so Moses said he'd fix him for me." Hope tugs on his arm and points at the book, babbling away at him in baby talk.

"I don't know about you but I could do with a decent brew," Charity says. "I'm positive Bob reuses them teabags." She bumps Vanessa's hip as she passes. "C'mon. Let's go and make sure he's not practising voodoo on Rubble."

Vanessa follows her, grasping her waist with both hands and following her steps like Johnny and Moses do when they're playing trains. Charity covers her hands with her own as she heads into the living room, but then stops walking suddenly, causing Vanessa to collide with her back.

"Shit!"

"Charity! What have we said about swearing in front of the k-" She comes fully into the room and sees what Charity's seeing. Moses is standing by the couch, toy stethoscope around his neck and Johnny's cuddly Rubble toy lying in front of him, with the stuffing pouring out of a jagged cut in his stomach. "Shit!"

Moses looks up in surprise. "Mum! That's a bad word!"

"Your Ma just said the exact same word!" Vanessa protests, noting the brightly coloured safety scissors lying by Rubble's head. Sharper than they look, obviously.

"But she says it all the time." Moses shrugs and turns back to his patient.

"Little grass." Charity murmurs. She nudges Vanessa. "That's you, that is." Vanessa nudges her back, but she can hear the warmth and affection in Charity's voice beneath the accusation. Vanessa's about to go and investigate when Charity grabs her elbow, pulling her close. "What are we going to do? Johnny's gonna have a hissy fit when he sees Rubble's been sawn in half."

"He's hardly sawn in half," Vanessa says, peering around Charity. "It's not a bad incision, actually." She ignores Charity's scoff and moves closer to Moses, standing by his shoulder to watch him work. "What's...uh, what's wrong with Rubble, love?"

"He has a sore tummy so I'm taking all the bad stuff out to make him better," Moses says, yanking more of the stuffing out and discarding it on the floor. She kneels down beside him.

"Have you found what's making his tummy sore?" She watches him gently stroke Rubble's face, murmuring to him that everything will be okay and that he'll be feeling better soon.

"Not yet." Moses sticks his hand in the hole and roots around.

"Uh, Vanessa…" Vanessa looks over her shoulder at her wife, who raises her eyebrows and pointedly looks at Rubble's innards on the floor. "Shouldn't we be doing, you know, damage control here?"

It's sweet, really; how concerned Charity is about how Johnny will react. She still sometimes likes to pretend that she's a terrible mother and has no idea what she's doing. But Vanessa's never been fooled by that act. She tilts her head and smiles. "Why don't you go and keep Johnny through the front while me and Moses get Rubble sorted out, eh?"

"I got it!" Moses holds up a handful of stuffing, identical to the rest of the stuffing on the floor. "I got the bad stuff!"

"Excellent!" Vanessa stands up and moves swiftly to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl from the drying rack and ignoring Charity's incredulous eyes. She drops back to her knees by Moses and holds the bowl out. "Drop the bad stuff in here, eh? We'll send it away to the lab for investigation."

"For 'vestigation." Moses nods and places the fluff in the bowl, gently.

Charity throws up her hands, shaking her head. "What are the pair of you like?" She turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway, looking back over her shoulder. "I'll give Johnny an update on the patient, shall I?"

Hiding her smile at Charity playing along, Vanessa nods. "Tell him Moses found what was giving Rubble tummy ache, and he's been able to sort him out and he'll be just fine."

"Just fine," Moses echoes, patting Rubble's head. "You'll be just fine."

"I'll let him know," Charity says, leaning against the doorframe, her eyes on Moses for a moment before lifting to meet Vanessa's. Vanessa smiles and Charity rolls her eyes and pushes herself upright. She wrings her hands in front of her chest. "Please do your best by him, Dr Moz." She's adopted a southern belle accent for some reason. "We're all countin' on you to pull him through!"

Moses gives her an exasperated look over his shoulder. "Ma, he'll be just fine. I just told you."

"Now go on." Vanessa shoos her. "We need to concentrate."

Charity laughs and winks at Vanessa before heading back through to the bar. Moses sighs beside her, his eyes trained on the stuffing all around his feet. He looks up at her, worry collecting between his eyebrows. "We got the bad bit out. Now what do we do?"

She takes her thumb and rubs his forehead. When he smiles, he looks like Ross, but when he's worried, she can see Charity in him with no bother at all. "Well, we put all the good stuff back in and we stitch him up. And he'll be good as new in no time." She smiles and picks up some of the stuffing. "So, why don't you work on getting this back in, and I'll sort out some thread for stitching him up?"

He nods, happy that they have a plan. He starts shoving stuffing back inside Rubble's torso and by the time Vanessa's located a needle and a length of thread, there's not a single piece of fluff left outside Rubble's body.

"Good job!" Vanessa sticks the needle into the couch and squidges Rubble around until the stuffing is as evenly distributed as she can get it; he's almost the same shape as he was before. She picks up the needle and gives Moses a wink. "Okay if I do this bit?"

He nods, moving in so that he's standing right by her shoulder, leaning down to watch as she expertly slips the needle through the fabric again and again, making a neat line of stitches.

"Can I try?" Moses whispers when she's about halfway along.

"Course. You need to be really careful, though, because this is sharp." She hands him the needle and guides his chunky little hand as best she can for a few stitches. He smiles and nods as he sees his handiwork. They're a little wonky and out of line with the rest, but his stitches aren't half bad for a five year old. "That's brilliant, Moses," she tells him. "Now, I'll finish him off and that'll be him done. He'll just need a bit of a sleep after his operation."

"'Kay."

He leans against her shoulder again as she stitches up the rest of the tear and finishes it off, snipping the thread as close as she can. Moses pushes off her and grabs a cushion, lying it flat and patting it before gently lifting Rubble and placing him on it. Vanessa's heart almost bursts with the tenderness of it. Moses is generally a rough and tumble little boy; always tearing around the place and bumping into things and falling. Gentle isn't a word she'd use to describe him. But right now, that's exactly what he's being as he pats the soft toy's head.

"You're okay, Rubble. We got the bad stuff out and you're gonna be all okay now."

Vanessa ruffles Moses' hair. "Yeah, he will be. But...next time one of Johnny's toys isn't well, come and see me first, eh? They don't always need an operation and I can show you how to check for what's wrong."

Moses is nodding as she speaks. "Yeah, like, sometimes they just need cream and a plaster, like my knee did when I fell off the wall?"

"Yes, exactly." Vanessa bends to kiss the top of his head. "You're so clever."

"How's Rubble?" They both turn at the sound of Johnny's voice and Moses grins.

"He's just fine, see?" He points to the cushion where Rubble is resting. "He had a operation and we took all the bad bits out and kept the good stuff in."

Johnny approaches the couch, frowning. Vanessa winces as he runs his hand up the tidy stitching on Rubble's underbelly. Charity comes in with Hope on her hip and meets Vanessa's eyes, quirking an eyebrow in question. Vanessa shrugs and moves to crouch by Johnny.

"What do you think?" She nudges Johnny gently. "D'you think he's better now?"

Johnny turns to look at her, his fingers still tracing along Rubble's new stitches. "It's just like Uncle Ross's.” He brings his hand up to his shoulder where Ross has a small scar. Vanessa presses her lips together; little does Johnny know how right he is. She stitched both of them up.

"It is," she agrees. "And he's doing fine. Just needs a bit of a rest now, right Moses?"

She leaves Moses to update Johnny on Rubble's condition, their heads bent together as they talk, and moves over to Charity.

"Nessnessnessness." Hope's chubby hands reach for her and she takes her from Charity, blowing a raspberry against her cheek and making her squeal.

"Guess we should be happy he didn't put Rubble to sleep, eh?" Charity says, placing her hands on Vanessa's hips and sandwiching the toddler between them, rubbing her nose into the soft dark hair on the top of Hope's head. "Not sure I could have coped with that."

"I told you he would be fine, didn't I?" Vanessa sways Hope gently. "Not scarred for life after all."

"Mum?" Vanessa looks over at Moses' expectant face.

"Yes, love?"

"I think I'm gonna be a vet when I'm big." Vanessa's eyes immediately fill up and her throat starts to throb. "Can I come and work with you?"

Vanessa nods, swallowing hard. "Course you can, my darling. Course you can. I'd love that."

Charity rolls her eyes. "Great. That means two of you trailing muck through my bar and putting overalls with sheep droppings in the pockets in my washing basket." She leans in and kisses Vanessa's cheek. "Don't cry," she murmurs, before sweeping away and tackling Moses onto the couch, making him laugh. Johnny grabs Rubble out of their way and scowls, cuddling him close. Charity sits up, her arms still wrapped around Moses. "So, this one's gonna be a vet. What about you, Johnnyface? What're you gonna be when you grow up?"

His little face scrunches up in thought for a moment and then he shrugs. "I dunno."

"Nah, me neither, kid," Charity tells him.

Vanessa rolls her eyes and lets Hope down to toddle off to play with some building bricks that are on the coffee table. She moves over to the couch and sits down beside Charity and Moses, smiling with Johnny climbs up beside them and lays his head on her shoulder. She flicks her eyes over to Charity to find that she's already looking at her.

"So, so lucky," Vanessa murmurs, repeating her earlier assertion.

Charity rolls her eyes. "Soppy cow." But she leans over and kisses Vanessa, both ignoring Moses' protests about being squished.

He'll need rubber bones in his job anyway.

#charity dingle #vanessa woodfield #moses dingle #charity x vanessa #vanity #emmerdale #fic by me #writing #fan fiction #dragonverse

[lauramcdphotography]

Glassware Evaluation

Throughout this brief, I felt like I learned a lot about how to p properly light glassware in the studio. I found that with trial and error I was able to produce an image that I am happy with and would like to continue to use this technique throughout my photography practice in the future. 

I feel like I learned a lot through my classmates and practising with different angles and materials really helped me learn what effect I like most. 

I decided to go with a matt black Perspex to create a small reflection but to draw the attention more towards the perfume bottle itself rather than what was happening beneath it. I brought in a pale pink sheet to create a for backdrop in front of the black flag in front of the soft box. This created the nice highlights around my perfume bottle and allowed light to travel through the glass as well as illuminating the jewellery on top. 

I softened the sheet using adobe Lightroom and enhanced the clarity to make the bottle sharper and create more definition. 

In the future, I. think I will experiment more with bottles as I did at the start of this brief and create some nice images of champagne or Prosecco being poured almost like an advert however I do like the delicacy of the perfume bottle and the jewellery and how it creates a sense of a classic and graceful look over the more “masculine’ look of the whiskey bottle. The bottle had a more rugged look to it and I preferred the feel of the more “feminine” appearance of the perfume. 

Overall, I enjoyed this brief and will definitely be using this technique in the future if I ever were to shoot products of any sort again. 

#glassware

[mabotomo]

ALL OUR LIVES | Gob/Michael pre-slash, G. | 4,412 words Gob was worried. But then, being worried about your little brother after his wife died--that was normal, wasn’t it?

The grass rustled with cool winter air when Michael's wife was lowered into her final resting place. George Michael clung to his father's hand as he said his goodbyes--he was only eleven, but already he had the eyes of an old soul.

The cancer came out of nowhere, as these things were prone to. Tracey didn't even have any family history of it, and she was relatively healthy as far as Michael knew, but it wasn't like the world was nice enough to warn you every time something bad was going to happen. Even if, in the grand scheme of things, you were supposed to be a good person (and Tracey was one of the best people Gob knew). In any case, good person or not, it didn't change the fact that Michael was now a single parent. A single parent to an eleven year old boy.

Gob remembered the phone call. How could he not? It happened less than a week ago, at three a.m. on a cold December morning. The details were burned into his brain: the fading scent of sex lingering in the air, the nameless woman snoring on his pillow, the calmness to Michael's voice, the early December chill creeping its way through Gob's bones, the fact that it was going to be Michael's birthday in less than twenty-four hours. It was one of the worst experiences of his life, hearing Michael crumble the way he did, but as he watched George Michael cling onto his father's hand, his cheeks pink in the cold, he told himself there had to be hope left in this world somewhere.

Click.

A few weeks later, Michael told him: "She wanted to divorce me."

"I'm sorry--" Gob was blindsided for a moment, certain Michael and Tracey were supposed to be the happy couple in all of this. "--what?"

Michael didn't enjoy Gob staying around George Michael too often, claiming him to be a "bad influence", but the sitter cancelled and George Michael was too sad to be alone, so he called Gob to take over while he handled a few late night things at the company. The past few times he babysat for George Michael, they'd watched Star Wars without fail, and Gob was getting so tired of it he caved and bought George Michael some Monopoly pieces. He thought he'd get him the rest of the board game another time, but that the pieces would at least be enough for some make believe.

It wasn't so bad, though, babysitting. George Michael was a good kid, if not like an awkward photocopy of Gob's baby brother as they grew up, but he liked the same ice cream flavours Gob did and didn't mind when Gob took him out to impress the ladies as a "good single dad". They did, of course, have a tacit understanding that Michael wasn't supposed to know about the ice cream and pick-up game, and it was working pretty well so far.

Anyways, Michael shrugged and tossed one last piece of dirty laundry into the hamper. Gob was asked to do the washing, but he was pretty sure he wouldn't. "She hated that I had to wait for her to get better." He paused. "That, you know, being married to... to, to a sick person was weighing me down.

"She said--we haven't even lived together in months. That this was how she could make it right for me."

Gob's mouth was hanging open, but he couldn't find the energy to snap it shut. Who would divorce Michael?

Glancing up at him, Michael smiled sadly (as he so often did, Gob noticed) and chuckled. "I know," he said, then let out a sigh heavier than Gob thought he could carry. "Believe me. I know."

Then he left for work and Gob was left with George Michael. It turned out that Monopoly was useless without the board, but Gob decided to pull out all the stops as they played Return of the Jedi on the television: he held the lightsabre and all, made the schwoom schwoom noises as he fought his nephew. George Michael used to be really good at this, Gob supposed, as he wasn't sure what 'good' constituted in nerd world, but he was sure that having George Michael all distracted and a little sniffly was not what a good fight constituted. By the end of it George Michael decided to curl against Gob's side and pass out a full half hour before bedtime, and he wasn't even all that tuckered out.

Instead of waking George Michael up for their promised ice cream and pick-up game, Gob deposited him into his bed, awkwardly stood by the side of it, and then flipped the light off. He took a moment, however, to stand in the doorway and watch him sleep peacefully; Gob never had any particular want to make babies, but if he did, he thought a kid like George Michael wouldn't be the end of the world.

Click.

Rollo wouldn't stop bitching at him about the lack of magic practise, and if he weren't so fucking scary, Gob would definitely punch him in the kidney. The thing is, Rollo could probably take him (or at least match him punch for punch) and they had some Chinese New Year show coming up, so really, maybe they should try to smush in at least one more final practise before the actual gig.

If there was one thing Gob wanted as a kid, it wasn't to be a magician, but little Michael used to watch him with sparkling eyes every time he did it, and in the end it turned out that doing magic would help get him out of P.E., so it became a dream. What little Gob really wanted was a train set big enough to ride, but since that was more difficult, he was working on the whole being a magician thing, even though Michael didn't admire him any more and Gob had to demand to be taken seriously.

For the moment, he was the second half of a magic duo called The Magicians Named Gob and Rollo, and they were good at explosions and dancing and handkerchief shit and sometimes doves. It wasn't glamorous (yet, but Gob couldn't find a right set of legs for that level up) and they didn't make much money (yet, but Gob had dreams of starting a Magician's Alliance, and he felt if he kissed his dad's ass enough he could get some cash from him), but either way, Gob loved getting up on stage and blowing people's minds, even if it meant his family thought he was an idiot. At least he got free drinks at the Gothic Castle. (Gob was a man with his priorities in order.)

They finalised their third song's choreography for the show (to It's My Life by Bon Jovi, which was too slow for Gob's tastes, but Rollo was sick of The Final Countdown) when they took a break.

"So, your brother’s wife wanted to divorce him?" Rollo asked, dice flicking between his long fingers.

Gob sipped his water, nodding. "Yeah. Something about how dying made her a shitty wife."

"That's like some E.R. level shit," Rollo replied, flicking the dice out onto the stage.

"Worse is that my brother's pretending it didn't matter to him." Gob pressed the bottle of water against his lower lip and pondered, leaning against the speaker on the floor. "I mean, come on, his wife was dying and now she was talking about leaving him? Christ..." He trailed off for a moment, looking elsewhere with a sigh. "He gets this sad little smile sometimes, and it's like. Just cry already, for Pete's sake. Fucking robot."

Rollo snorted, then moved to gather their dummy doves up, if only because they didn't want to kill any more doves practising before the actual show. It took a few moments before Gob returned to planet earth and watched Rollo do what he did best for a minute, and then he smiled and picked the last dove up to go back to him.

Click.

"What is that? What are you doing with your hands?"

Gob jumped, startled out of his skin and nearly dropping his champagne flute. He was never that fond of champagne--it was too girly, really--but hey, it was free, and he was never the type to turn down a free drink, even if it came from his mother.

"God, mother, you scared me." Gob scowled and looked away from her.

Lucille straightened, reaffirming her spot next to Gob and brushing imaginary dust from the shoulders of his suit. It was the fourth year in a row that she was hosting this annual Valentine's party, and Gob was having a hard time remembering why he always went along with her. Didn't he move out of Balboa Towers, like, six years ago? And yet Gob still found himself returning to her stupid parties whenever she invited him. He could admit that sometimes his mother was amusing, but that was only when she wasn't being a total bitch to him.

"That horrible thing with your hands, what was that about?" she asked again, holding her own hands up in mockery.

Gob frowned deeper. "A picture."

"I'm sorry," Lucille began, crinkling her nose at him. "What was that?"

"I was taking... a picture, mum," Gob replied, irritated. He lifted his hands again as if holding a camera, framing a shot of George Michael in a sweater that matched Michael's while his father poured juice for him. The two of them were talking, Michael looking like he was scolding him a little, and George Michael looking panicked because his father was pouring him juice and he didn't know how to hold the plate of cake he had with just one hand.

Lucille looked at him blankly for a moment, then rolled her eyes before leaving, muttering, "Don't even have a camera with you--who dropped you on the head as a baby?"

Gob drank the last of his champagne, dropping it on a waiter's tray, then scowled as he crossed his arms in annoyance. He just wanted to make a memory, was that so bad?

"If mother was in a sweater like that, I'd want to make a memory of it, too," Buster piped up behind him, hands landing on Gob's shoulders and massaging him until Gob smacked him away in protest. "But only because it'd really go with her hair, I think, just like how it goes with George Michael's, while on Michael it's more..."

"Oh my God, why are you people trying to talk to me?" Gob groaned, exasperated. "Would you leave me alone, please?" He really needed another drink, and now that he thought about it he wanted some of that cake that George Michael was having, and he didn't want it to run out before he got to it.

An hour later, George Michael was passed out, his arms folded atop a table and his cheek resting on them. Michael rubbed a hand lightly up and down his back.

Gob, unsure why he was still at this party, stood across the room, and managed a small smile as he brought his hands up once more. This time, he made sure he was out of his mother’s eye-shot.

Click.

"I was in a gay movement once," Tobias told him, apropos of nothing during a rare visit to Newport Beach. Maeby and Lindsay were at the banana stand with George Michael and his father, leaving Gob here to test out his brand new Segway while Tobias was... Tobias.

Gob coughed, turning slowly with wide eyes that likely betrayed him. Tobias was smiling, rocking on the balls of his feet as if announcing he was some gay protester to his brother-in-law was no big deal. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Oh, it was wonderful," Tobias continued, smiling off into space. "They had all the best parties! I met a lot of beautiful women there, but, well, it turned out they were more into other women--except Lindsay, who, I think, liked this man named Robert who had the strongest arms..."

"Uh. Okay?" Gob turned away from him again, shaking his head. He'd always suspected Tobias of it, had done so for years now, but an actual gay experience was news to him.

Wait. Lindsay was with lesbians?

"Well, I'm just saying," Tobias commented just over Gob's shoulder, making him jump and squeak a little and nearly fall off his Segway. Tobias placed a hand on his back to steady him, chuckling. "Maybe you should take Michael to one, what with how worried you've been. They're really quite fun, and someone of his dry humour would be well appreciated. Maybe you can even do that today! I'll take George Michael off your hands, and--"

Gob stared at him for a long moment, confused as all fuck about why George Michael would be his responsibility. Then he remembered that Michael had been calling the sitter less and Gob more and. Huh. When was the last time Gob actually played ice cream and pick up?

"--it would be fabulous, just fabulous." Tobias clapped his hands together, smiling.

Click.

George Michael's friends took him out for the weekend, so Michael was taking a break and trying to be happy that his son's friends were making him feel better as much as they could. Gob knew that Michael appreciated these efforts, even if he worried about his son all the time and not enough about himself. The world might be shitty, what with Tracey passing on, but at least Michael still had George Michael, and from the way Michael treated him and looked at him and talked about him, George Michael was probably the greatest thing he could ever have in his life.

Gob arrived at Michael's door at 7 p.m. with a case of beer and an action/thriller/semi-romance film, even though the romance was really just gratuitous D-cups with a muscled man. It was weird not having George Michael around, which he noticed every time Michael turned to where George Michael would often sit on the sofa as if he had to tell him to cover his eyes at the sex scenes, and then turned back at the television looking humbled.

George Michael's birthday was in a few weeks. Gob was continuing watching movies with him for reasons he couldn't quite figure out, but since Michael's decision to overwork meant he'd finished months' worth of it in a few weeks and also got himself some free time, sometimes Michael was initiated into the league of rebels as well (awful Darth Vader voice and lightsabre sound effects and all). In the back of his mind Gob thought that it was almost like they were a normal family, except for the fact that Gob was Michael's brother, and they both had dicks, and also Gob was pretty sure he was only thinking about Michael all the time because he was worried about Michael's well-being and nobody ever seemed to worry about the most functional Bluth in the family.

Whatever--he shrugged when the thought came to mind and grinned through it. Families were what you made of them, not what you were born with, so even though Michael was born his brother, they could be co-parents if Michael wanted them to be. Not that that would be a thing, Gob supposed, since even though he'd been concerned about Michael raising George Michael alone, a few months in showed his baby brother doing just fine.

At least, until they started drinking.

It was four beers and thirty minutes into the film when Michael lost it. Gob had never seen him cry and he wasn't sure what to do with himself--hug him? Pat him on the back? Awkwardly sit at the other end of the couch and wait it out? Yeah, he figured, he'd go with that one. Unfortunately, he survived only thirty seconds of silent weeping and watching Michael's back shake with the effort, curled up into himself, before he broke and slid back to pull Michael close to him.

"It'll be okay," Gob said, patting Michael awkwardly on the back. Of course, now wasn't the time to be thinking about how nice Michael smelled or, Jesus, how Michael used to hold Gob like this when he cried because of their parents, and how Michael had always been there for him, and how Gob was being there for him now, and how much he loved his brother and how being there for him the past few months had given him a weird sense of purpose. Now was the time to be comforting Michael, he told himself, even though Michael lifted his head to look at him with puffy eyes and tears streaming down his face...

And Gob thought, Oh, shit. I'm going to swoop on him.

So their lips met somewhere in the middle of all that, like some rift opened up in time and space and Gob was falling through it slowly. Part of him felt bad about taking advantage of his innocent brother in need, but Michael's lips were softer than he thought they would be (not that he imagined such things any more, no, of course not) and he wasn't exactly forcing himself onto said innocent brother. If anything, Michael was... kind of enthusiastically returning Gob's every kiss, every breath, every sigh. And then they pulled apart in tandem and Gob was frozen in the moment, torn between laughing with joy and screaming with terror.

What the hell did he just do?

Oh, right, he just made out with his baby brother. That was it.

Michael smiled a bit hazily for a moment, sending Gob's heart into a leap... before it plunged into darkness at the same time Michael's expression fell.

"Shit," Michael breathed, bringing one hand up to rub at his face.

"Yeah," Gob agreed. He wasn't sure what he was agreeing to, but he really wanted to get back to that part where they were kissing.

Michael stood, moving away, clicking the television off. He refused to look at Gob's face, and for one fleeting moment, Gob thought: holy crap, shit just got real. But then Michael turned and it was like all the joy had been sucked out of the room--Gob had a fleeting moment of wondering where the fucking Dementor was when he realised, no, it was just Michael staring him like that with a look Gob was all too familiar with.

"We can't do this," Michael said, and Gob could practically do the speech along with him.

"You're my brother," Gob said flatly, looking down at his hands. "You can't make a living as a magician. You're my brother. How do I explain it to George Michael? You're my brother, Gob, and I appreciate you being here for me, but we're brothers and we stopped doing this in high school for a reason, and..."

Looking back up, Gob saw the battle raging behind Michael's eyes for the first time in his entire life. There was want there, and need, and desire, and confusion, and sadness, and rage, and Gob always figured he'd only ever see that Molotov cocktail of emotion whenever he looked into the mirror, so it threw him off more than he wanted to admit.

But he grinned. "Hey, Mikey. It's okay. I get it."

He was at the door when Michael caught his arm.

"Listen, Gob," Michael said quietly. "I can't. I want to, but I can't. I have to think of George Michael. I have to be a mother and a father, and this is wrong, and I just... I can't."

Gob laughed, pulling his arm away. "I know," he replied. "George Michael comes first--needs good role models or something, right? Look, let me know if you want me to have him next week for Star Wars. Or not, 'cause I get it either way."

Holding up his hands, Gob fought back the tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

Click.

It's almost Christmas! Gob wrote in scribbly, awkward lettering. Hope you've been a cool kid. You write to Santa yet? Do you still do that? I'll be home in time for Gangy's Christmas party, so you better be there, kiddo. It's been way too long.

Gob finished the letter off and stuffed it in an envelope. It was the latest in a long string of pen pal letters to his favourite guy. Sometimes he asked about Michael, but he kept it as light and fun as possible. George Michael was going to be in middle school soon, too smart for his own good and not confident enough to make friends. Gob missed him everyday.

He sighed, leaning back in his especially comfy seat. They were cruising at about ten thousand or so metres above the ocean, coming back from a show in Denver. Following "the incident" (as Rollo named it), The Magicians Named Gob and Rollo had a good show, received sponsors, and earned enough for Gob to start the Magicians' Alliance. Gob threw himself into magic, making new tricks with even better music, but creative differences with Rollo had them splitting as a duo a few months in. He said something about how Gob shouldn't reference Star Wars so much in his tricks on his way out, and Gob had only countered with the Force being the most magical thing the world probably had to fucking offer.

Either way, his new manager, a pretty girl named Marta trying to make her big break in acting, curiously looked on as Gob sealed his latest letter to George Michael. The return letters had all been wonderful, pictures of George Michael and his father as they went through their year littered throughout. It'd been months since Gob last saw him... since he last saw his dad.

"You're becoming famous now, Gob," Marta said, head cocking slightly. Gob wasn't sure how to deal with her, because his instinct told him to flirt with her and fuck her, but Marta had two kids, and experience told him that wanting to fuck anyone with a kid would probably end in disaster. "You might have to be more careful about what you put in your letters."

Gob snorted, reclining in his chair. "I doubt the press'll be real interested in my twelve year old penpal," he replied. He could hear Marta breathe a quiet sigh of relief, then wondered what it was she thought of him if she thought Gob was writing dirty or inappropriate letters. Granted, Gob didn't have the best image, but still--he was an all right guy. Gob Bluth, upstanding citizen! (Never mind the fact that she'd seen him bring girls back to his hotel room, and...)

By the time they were back in Newport Beach, Gob had one more show, another woman in another hotel room, bad food, and a midnight run to get himself some booze. More than once he'd found himself missing Star Wars night--even the lightsabres. He told George Michael this in one of his letters and even went out to buy a Stormtrooper sticker for the seal.

It was Christmas Eve when he actually found himself a spot of free time. Gob couldn't believe it'd been over a year since Tracey passed, and that it'd been nearly a year since he last spoke to Michael. Nine months and fourteen days, to be exact, but who was counting?

His mother's party was already in full swing when Gob got there, fancy wine in hand. Marta tagged along this year, both her sons excited about free food and unlimited juice and the chance to relax with their mother for a few days. They weren't even totally through the door when Buster found himself startled by Marta, and then enchanted by her, and Gob had to reach out to grab his shoulder and say: "Yeah, I'll forgive you for not saying hi to your brother first, but try not to scare my manager off with your weird, huh?"

Marta tilted her head, looking back. "What was that?"

"Oh!" Buster jumped, half hiding behind his hands as he glanced away. Gob released him, watching as Buster stumbled away, and Marta was left doing the same for a moment before her sons tugged her along. Shaking his head, he scanned the room for his own special people, and--

There they were, like no time had passed at all. Except George Michael was taller, his hair was cut shorter, and those god-awful dental equipment was finally out of his mouth. He was wearing a suit, as he tended to for Christmas things, but Gob could tell this one was new--he was growing up now, the nerd, and he needed new suits and. Gob's heart was in his throat, weird enough, and when he heard George Michael call "Uncle Gob!" before heading over to him and giving him a hug, he swore to God he was going to start crying somehow.

Gob laughed, though, and returned it. "It's good to see you too, kiddo." And he meant it, because as they pulled back he could see George Michael was doing much better than he was when Gob had last seen him. The chubby was back in his cheeks, in the same way that Michael's cheeks were when he was a kid, and...

A voice he'd been waiting for said, "Click."

So Gob turned, looking at Michael, who was smiling at him with hands raised in camera formation. Gob's stomach went tight as feelings came rushing back anew: the want, and the need, and the fear of the unknown. But all these were pushed away as Michael wrapped an arm around George Michael and used the other to pull Gob's head down into his shoulder, his lips brushing over his temple.

"Welcome home," he said, bringing his hand down to grasp Gob's free one. "It's good to see you again."

George Michael looked between them, confused for a moment, but then settled for taking Gob's other hand in the same way Michael's did. "Yeah, like dad said."

"Like dad said," Gob echoed, his fingers squeezing over the two hands he wanted to hold most. He'd never thought himself to be the clinging type, but found that it was more comforting than its vulnerability would ever lead anyone to believe.

#ooc prob? lol #bluthcest #gob x michael #* #*fics #*f: ad #otp: i do it for you

[barnaut]

You know my passion: to express the grape on its soil, and God knows if our Champagne have a lot to tell us about this. With me, no artifice. No need for barrels, concrete eggs, terracotta amphoraor or other winemaking practises for permiting the grapes to reveal themselves. A fruit grown in harmony with its environment and a vinification the least intrusive possible are the bases of my experience. Bouzy is a very particular terroir and, even if it represents 97% of my Grands Crus (Ambonnay 2% and Louvois 1%), I wanted to illustrate it in its integrity with three cuvées: Blanc de Noir, Authentic Rosé and Vintage. Since 7 years for the NV and since 2009 for the vintage, I vinify these cuvées as pure Bouzy "mono-cru" (Blanc de Noirs is thus a mono-cru and mono-varietal). These bottles now mention on the label the words "GRAND CRU BOUZY", replacing the simple "Grand Cru". This distinction is undoubtedly a real added value for connoisseurs. #barnaut #champagne #bouzy #champagnebarnaut #bouzyrouge #closbarnaut #champagnegrandcru #grandscrusexceptiondechampagne #grandscrusexception #bouzychampagne #シャンパン #香槟酒 #샴페인 http://bit.ly/2L3EFEY

[jannity]

Julius

So to start I have to say, he actually is the reason why i started to 'work' for the football team... After the last game, where the guys won like they played in the UCL, a champagne-shower was due for them. Sadly, because I was in company of an injured player, I got just as soaked as all the others. In a freshly stolen shirt from one of the guys, they ask me for help. Julius had actually got hit by another player and now had pains in the lower back area. I got to massage my first football player and also got offered to join them for training and also the games regularly. I do so and become good friends with actually all of them. I've always had a thing for Julius so I didn't complain about massaging him every few days. He then also broke his toe, knocking him out of playing for another few weeks. But this also meant, I would be working with him till he was alright again. Everytime I come to the training sessions now, everyone jokes about the guys and Julius who are with me. About how they just want to be with the only girl 'in the team', even though they are with me to get better. Now I also did a thing for school with Julius, where I had to messure his heartrate and his breathing. I know for a fact his heartrate is 56 beats per minute, normally. Like a really good atheltic heartrate. So I put my fingers to his pulsepoint and it goes to 76 beats per minute. We did argue a good 20 minutes about how this is normal, but is it normal? Is it because I hurried him to sit down and stand back up again and again? Or is it actually because of me? Because a fact is, he is acting different with me alone than with me when the boys are around. This turned into an advise q&a real quick but well, I have to pour out my heart, do I? @grizi-and-pals knows all about this, so I don't mind sharing experiences. I also don't mind hearing from all of you guys and what you actually think of it. I'm ending with what makes me think about Julius the most, the insider joke of how he always has to start penalty-practise because he always misses.

#football #definately love #no hate #experiences made