#jmoodboard

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mediocre moodboard: study date with gwil for @archaicmusings​

he drags you to your favorite coffee shop one afternoon for a change of scenery as the office in your flat is no longer productive. the trees outside are bright with orange and yellows and browns, and the mid-afternoon chill pushes you closer to his side as you walk. you don’t mind, especially when he moves to pull you closer to the warmth of his coat.

coffees ordered, snug corner reserved, you open your laptop and set to work. the afternoon is quiet. you have a research project to finish (thank heaven for google books!) and he has a new script to review. you’ll catch his eye from time to time and smile; he’ll nudge your shin with the toe of his shoe. just a little touch, a forgettable comment to remind the other that you’re there, that you appreciate their presence. 

you move to a nearby italian restaurant for supper once your eyes are bloodshot and your stomach growling. you aren’t quiet there. you laugh a little too loud when he shows you a video joe sent him from an unfortunate bird encounter in central park. he gets riled up about one of his favorite sports teams, but you’re just as quick to fire back with support for your own opposing teams. 

the quiet, the not-so-quiet—whatever it is—so long as you’re with him you’re happy.

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mediocre moodboard: parenthood with gwilym for @almightygwil​

annabelle margaret lee—or belle or maggie or maggie magee or squish or pumpkin or, your personal favorite, sweet daughter o’mine. she’s perfect, and she’s yours.

it’s ridiculous how much you love her. she’s not yet a year old and already you think you love her more than anything in the entire world. just one coo, one gummy smile and you’re pudding in her grabby little hands. gwilym’s wrapped around her pinky, too. he’s always holding her, always brushing back the soft hairs on the crown of her head, always running his knuckle along her fleshy cheeks. he insists he get the chance to wear the babybjorn from time to time, and it never fails to make you laugh. he’s so tall and she’s so small strapped against his chest, but they’re an inseparable pair—even have matching sunglasses to prove it.

annabelle is seven months old when gwilym rolls over one night and throws an arm over your stomach. “what if we had another?” he asks.

you laugh, looking up from your book. “we just had one!”

“i know, i know. but she’s already getting so big and i don’t want her to grow up. i want her to stay little and squishy.”

you grin and reach up to cup his cheek. “there will be more, but give my lady-bits some time to heal, yeah?”

he groans into his pillow. “ugh, i think this is what baby fever feels like.”

you can’t say you are displeased at the thought.

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mediocre moodboard: titanic + joe for @theonsasheart​

it’s complicated, the whole ordeal. yet at the heart of it all, it’s simple: he cares for you, and you care for him. but, of course, the world as it stands currently is not that simple. you are different more than you are similar, and differences are dangerous—especially aboard the titanic.

still, he sneaks away from his fancy dinners to walk with you along the darkened hallways of the upper-decks. he brings you delicacies from across the world that melt in your mouth with an unusual sweetness. he kisses your knuckles and whispers promises both of you know he cannot keep. you’re happy in those dark hours despite it all. you believe he is a symbol of what is to come—a new life, a fresh start, equal opportunity.

when the ship begins its descent into the inky waters of the sea, he finds you amidst the crowd. how you managed to escape the dredges of third classes you do not have time to comprehend, but it is a miracle in and of itself. he grabs your waist and shoves you onto the nearest lifeboat. he’s yelling to another man, hardly paying attention to the way you grip his arm, plead for him to join you. 

he’s too much of a hero to sit beside you on the crammed bench of the wooden lifeboat.

you lose sight of him, then, but not before he can kiss you one last time, and you know he’s gone for good. later, when you’ve finally made it to new york, you look up his family. they aren’t hard to find, but they stare at you in shock when you knock on their front door. you hand them the cufflink ripped from his shirtsleeve.

“he saved my life,” you say.

and despite it all, despite the pain and the differences and the worlds between you, they invite you in for tea.

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mediocre moodboard: drive-in date with joe for @joemazzmatazz​

it took a lot of convincing but eventually you get him to agree: the next time your local drive-in plays jurassic park, he’ll go with you. luckily, when he does agree, you’re ready. you pull out a pair of tickets for the 8 o’clock double-header this weekend: jurassic park followed by jaws, a spielberg fan’s dream. he just shakes his head and mumbles something about wearing a sweater because drive-ins get cold after the first movie.

saturday night finds you in the back of your car, the backseat folded down. you’re snuggled between joe and an army of pillows and throw blankets, and the air smells like popcorn and the remnants of this afternoon’s rain. your sweater is warm, but joe is warmer, and you curl beside him, your head on his shoulder. you can feel his chest rumble as he mutters his lines to himself; a few times he ducks his head and smothers a cringe. you just laugh and twine your fingers with his. by the time jaws starts, you’re too busy kissing and giggling and shushing one another to worry about the plot. the humans win anyway.

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mediocre moodboard: rainy day with gwil for @heyjonesey​

on days like this, you are glad you convinced him to adopt the sisters; buttercup and snickers make rainy day snuggles all the better. the rain thrums against the bedroom window, constant and dependable. you groan through your morning stretch and roll over. he’s already blinking sleepily at you, half his face obscured by his pillow.

“morning,” he whispers.

you smile. “morning.”

buttercup, revealing herself from the depths of the bedclothes, meows as she curls herself around gwilym’s shoulder. he chuckles and scratches behind her ears. “want some tea?”

you shake your head and follow buttercup’s lead by burrowing into the opposite side of his neck. he’s warm and comfortable, and he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you close. somewhere overhead, snickers settles on your pillow, her deep purrs matching buttercup’s.

“okay. we’ll stay like this for awhile,” he says.

it’s all you could ever ask of him. 

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mediocre moodboard: roadtrip with deaky

you’re not sure what compels him to drop everything and run for the american west. maybe it’s stress; maybe it’s a mid-life crisis. whatever it is, when he bursts through the door of your flat and yells for you to start packing, you don’t hesitate.

a day later you find yourself in the passenger seat of a rental car, his hand on your thigh, route sixty-six whizzing past you at breakneck speed. he doesn’t say much, quiet as ever, but when you finally stop at a crummy dinner and he’s looking at you over a stack of syrup-drenched pancakes, he smiles.

“i’m glad you’re here with me.”

you put your fork down and grin. he laughs and reaches across to wipe a bit of ketchup off your cheek. “glad i’m here too,” you say. “now pass me the salt.”

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for my inaugural mediocre moodboard: cottagecore living with brian for @deacyblues​

there’s a blackberry bush outside your kitchen window. since escaping the hustle and bustle of the city, you’ve found solace in the quiet air of the countryside and picking blackberries with your husband on any given afternoon is one of your favorite things to do. staining your fingertips purple, eating more from the bush than saving for the basket, curling your bare toes in the soft dirt of the garden—it all reminds you why you came here: to find peace. he’s always anxious after getting home from a week in the city working on the newest album or after months on tour, but your cottage—affectionately titled la maison des étoiles—brings him back to earth. the nooks and crannies in which you read all morning and the wide-open field where he can gaze at the stars all night long are just a few of your favorite aspects of the cozy little home. roger thinks it’s like something out of a fairy book (and not in a good way) but you’re happy and he’s happy and that’s all that matters.

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mediocre moodboard: anniversary with joe

you’ve been married for a year now and, if it’s possible, each day seems better than the last. he takes you to paris, wines and dines you until you’re sure his wallet is bleeding, walks with you hand-in-hand around the seine. you talk about everything and nothing: the birds in the sky, the funny looks you get for being those loud americans, whether or not it’s time to have children. you’re happy, and when he takes you back to your hotel, with its view of the eiffel tower, you draw a warm bubble bath and sit in it together. you reminisce about your wedding day and then do your best to recreate your wedding night. all in all, it’s a perfect day. you couldn’t be happier even if you tried.