#also i personally high five all of you with a more weirder taste

[alvadee]

i always think it's so insanely stupid when people mock others because they find "not conventionally attractive" or downright "ugly" people hot. like the whole "sis, you can do better" meme was funny in the beginning when it still felt more targeted at women who date ugly AND useless men (as in they have no obvious redeeming qualities) but i see that comment so often now just because someone's so doesn't have immaculate bonestructure and isn't ripped.

it's not only mean spirited it also demands an outrageous and worrying level of conformity. and obviously the most insane thing about that way of thinking is that the logical conclusion of it would be that everyone is supposed to pine after a rare type of physical beauty and everyone else who can't date a person who looks like that has to pick from the reject pile and be unhappy with someone they're not attracted to...

if we just accept/encourage that all types of people find all types of people hot it's much more likely everyone ends up happy because there's someone out there for everyone.

like, i have a friend whose type are rat boys, guys that kind of look like...rats, in a way... and we can joke about it! and she jokes about my taste but we still support each other's weird taste! what good is it if your type is brad pitt, chris hemsworth or jason momoa?? like, good luck looking for dudes like them but uhm there just aren't a lot. the person who finds a much more average looking dude hot, isn't weird, they're just lucky they have a much easier time finding someone they're attracted to, a win for them!

this whole attitude of there being a right way to be hot is honestly just propaganda so conventionally attractive people can still enjoy the social capital their looks give them and to make people miserable about themselves and their partners.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.” 

[nautiscarader]

2020 in animation - recap

So, 2020. 

Yeah, I have to say I’m not entirely satisfied. Would not recommend, 1 star. 

But I would be willing to bump it to 1.5, if only because of one factor: the animation. 

Because I have to say, this was the best animated end of the world so far! And if there was something that kept our spirits up, it was the cartoon industry!

Just like last year, I should preface this by saying that this is highly subjective selection. Even when one is confined to their Hobbit holes for better part of the year because of *waves hands* everything around, 

day still only has 24 hours, so I have missed a few shows. (I should also apologise for omitting a few major ones last year, like Milo Murphy’s Law S2, Ducktales, or She-Ra. This is why I started keeping a track this year). I’m sure I will catch up with those I missed this year some time in the future, but for now, let’s see what this year has gifted us with.

And right from the start, January opens the race with very interesting propositions. We were still riding on an incredibly high wave from last year, with Infinity Train season 2.

This one focused on Tulip’s mirror, and pushed the season towards a much darker and complex story, diving deep into one’s personal journey and identity. There were tears, math, deer, and cops being murdered. Brutally. 

t was followed by two newcomers: The Owl House and first season of Kipo and The Age of the Wonderbeast. Both of them would dominate first half of the year, with The Owl House’s traditional, week-to-week airings, and Kipo's seasons appearing in  June and October.

The Owl House, a strong contender in "What will be the Next Gravity Falls?" contest, invited us to a world full of magic, mystery, elongated owl demons and some dark secrets. It has also created a milestone for Disney, introducing an LGBT couple with characters of bisexual Luz Noceda and lesbian Amity Blight. Their Grom dance has risen to the top of my animates scenes, polling very closely to the unforgettable Kataango.

On the other hand, Kipo has taken us to the post-apocalyptic world filled with mutant animals, revealing that despite the end of the world, our old vices and animosities have survived in underground burrows, and we have infected the overworld of giant doggos and suit-wearing frogs with them. 

Kipo did not pull any punches regarding commentary about our society, at the same time giving us hope in the form of the main protagonist, who was able to spread friendship and understanding amongst the mutes, as well as the humans that had to survive. And in the world that we have found ourselves in, it was a pretty darn good lesson.

February would bring end to two seasons of airing cartoons, Big Hero Six season 2 and Miraculous season 3, as well as another newcomer that won the hearts of fans: Glitch Techs, with its "second" season arriving in August. And while in my opinion he show wasn't as good as the other two new titles, I am clearly in minority, as the show about Ghostbuters-like team of game console technicians gained huge popularity... though not enough to keep the show afloat. As of writing this, it is currently in limbo, which is a shame, as the second set of 10 episodes finally added some much needed ongoing story.  

in March, another show from last year ended - Steven Universe Future. As we have expected, it tackled slightly more mature themes, showing how much Steven needed that therapy we have wished him, telling an important tale of finding one's worth and one's self. its ending might not have been as explosive as those of the original show, or the movie, but it left Steven’s story as open as an open road, and deep in our hearts, we all knew it would look like this.   

March was also the time when majority of western world caught the coronavirus, and that caused quite a turmoil with the movie and animation industry. One of the first victim of changed schedule was Disney's Onward, which was released on-line on Disney+ quickly after its theatrical release.

I have mixed feelings towards “Onward”. For such interesting promise, I think it made a few questionable and down right boring turns, though the unorthodox message at the end of it was its strongest point, and it was one I haven’t seen in a while, so it was worth watching just for that.  

April was relatively quiet (aside from more end of the world stuff); brought us third season of Ducktales that spread throughout the year, while May gave us final, fifth season of She-Ra and the Princesses of Power. 

To my eternal shame, I missed on this show when it premiered, and due to the lockdown, I binge-watched the previous four right in time for powerful and explosive season 5. And even though Catra and Adora finally gave us exactly what we needed, some fans felt slightly unsatisfied, calling for a movie, like the Steven Universe one to be made. And I’d be all for it, the rest of universe needs saving from the Horde! Also, cats in space - hilarious. 

May also revealed a new player on the streaming field: HBO Max, who surprised us with new Looney Tunes Cartoons, much more in the spirit of the legendary originals than the often-criticised Looney Tunes Show from 2011-2014. And in my opinion, it did; one could feel the same fluidity in animation, dedication to slapstick, and synchronisation with music than in the very first cartoons with Bugs and Daffy.

HBO Max would, however, return in June with first of series of Adventure Time original movies called "Distant Lands". The first centred around BMO, with second one - Obsidian giving us a glimpse into Bonnibel and Marceline's lives.

Distant Lands allowed people to revisit the odd, odd world of Ooo and learn about its colourful inhabitants, taking turns to seeing their past and the future, an, as usual, showing us that post-apocalyptic world can teach us valuable and meaningful lessons.   

Just in time for full lockdown in our burrows, aforementioned Kipo season 2 premiered in June, together with another cartoon movie, this time featuring We Bare Bears. While their movie wasn't anything to write songs about, it was exactly like the show, providing some wholesome content right when we needed it.

And just in case you needed more wholesome adventures, Craig of the Creek's second season ended, and its third season began, reminding us of HOW COOL LIFE WAS WHEN OUTERNET WASN’T SCARY AND WE COULD STILL WALK OUTSIDE FOR FUN AND NOT TO HUNT TOILET PAPER.

Just like last year, July was not dogs' days, but frogs'. Amphibia season 2 started raining on our heads, but unlike last year, its schedule wasn't a daily one, spreading the episodes throughout the Summer and early Autumn, with its second part arriving in February of 2021. There were more roadtrips, more mysteries and MORE MARCY.

August was equally strong: aforementioned Glitch Techs "season 2" premiered, offering better and more plot-heavy episodes than the first ten episodes. Unfortunately, the show's future is unclear; the uneven divide of plot between the seasons probably contributed to the show not being renewed. 10 new episodes apparently are written, but await in sleep mode, until Nickelodeon remembers about it.

HBO MAX picked up Infinity Train for its third season, after being derailed by Cartoon Network. And if you thought that killing a mirror cop was shocking... then this season has pushed the limit of what can be shown in modern children's cartoon to a frightening degree. The schedule was once again, weirder, with first five episodes airing on the day of the premiere, ending with a cliffhanger (literally) that only contributed to the shock factor and made us wait anxiously for its conclusion. It was bold, it was dark, it was memorable. 

And just like Glitch Techs, Infinity Train waits on a side track, unsure if it will be picked up, or will it be abandoned and left as a canvas for graffiti artists.

However, to end the Summer, a truly amazing TV movie has arrived on Disney Plus, where we came back to good, old Danville and could witness Candace against the universe. The new Phineas and Ferb movie brought back the glorious memories of this fantastic show, with the same humour, writing, abundance of catchy songs and a surprisingly deep moral.

In September we have seen the start of Big Hero 6 season 3 and a odd change of format. Instead of standalone 22-minute episodes, the show now consists of two 11-minute segments. In opinion of many, this weakened the stories, forcing them to be more comedy-oriented, and shortening the potential emotional drama. Still, it gave us funny, short stories, but they did clash with the two previous season, not to mention the movie.

However, if that wasn't up to your taste, Ducktales season 3 also started airing, and continued its first part up until December with more action- and plot-driven episodes, including the Darkwing Duck crossover, serving as a pilot of the spin-off. 

Later in December fans have learned that Season 3 will be its last, which broke the hearts of many duck fans; however, it seems that the season has been written as the last one in mind, and the news of the ending was known to the creators, which gives us hope for a kick-ass finale somewhere in 2021.

Miraculous New York, telling arguably one of the most mature storylines, opened the "Heroez" world to some new characters and new opportunities, with two more specials, taking place in Shanghai and Brazil, meant to air somewhere next year. AND I DO HOPE WE WILL SEE MORE LOCAL FOOD VENDOR SUPERHEROES LIKE HOT DOG DAN. 

October was the month of two season 3's: Carmen Sandiego and Kipo. In case of Carmen, as it is usual with Netflix, the "season" was only a half-one, with just a handful standalone episodes, and just a dash of more ongoing plot. 

For Kipo, however, season 3 was the end, and what a glorious one it was. Fans were saddened to learn of it, but Kipo was always imagined as a 3-part story, and it showed. The finale proved more than satisfying ending to the plot, elevating Kipo to one of the smartest cartoon characters we should all try to aspire to.

In November, Distant Lands: Obsidian aired, focusing on everyone’s favourite candy/vampire couple, and the long and complicated love between Bonnibel and Marceline. And as usual, it showed us that relationships are not always as straightforward as we would like them to be, but with enough music and teamwork, no enemy is big enough. 

For the next new show, I’ve waited with the most amount of excitement and anxiety. Because while I was completely fine with other reboots and re-imaginings to take creative takes, new Animaniacs, (airing on Hulu) had to be perfect and had to be the lightning that struck twice. 

And sadly... it wasn’t. It was still good, but some people criticised (incorrectly imho) the amount of political topics, while I mourned almost total cast-ration of additional characters, aside from Pinky and the Brain. This truly weakened the possibilities it could have had. It was still very good, but you can feel that some of the original charm was lost, due to these odd, odd limitations. 

December brought us a new original Apple TV movie, Wolfwalkers. A beautifully animated folk tale of friendship and social divides, and how short-sight can cause the collapse of both arguing sides, reminding me very much of the intelligence and heart of original “How to Train Your Dragon”.  

We’ve had to wait two years for the return of arguably one of the most wholesome shows out there: Hilda. Second season dived into deeper mysteries that permeate the rich and colourful troll-ridden land, we saw the return of some familiar characters, and introduced a whole new storyline, that ended with a surprising cliffhanger. Still as wholesome, but now with a tiny bit of Police incompetence. Also Twig, lots of Twig.   

Just like Onward, Pixar’s highly anticipated Soul aired on Disney+, telling a very mature story about finding one’s purpose in life, what that purpose actually means, and whether it exists at all. Beautifully animated, with fantastic soundtrack, it was a stunning tribute to creativity, and it never dumbed down its profound, open message about following your dream.   

And just if you thought that Soul was going to be 2020′s last note (pun very much intended), right before the year ended, DC Super Hero Girls concluded its first season on a rather anti-climactic two-parter. That being said, the season, running from March of last year, was packed with short, bite-sized, funny stories, taking interesting spins on existing comic book characters. For a comic book noob like me, it was perfectly fine, and I can’t wait for the second season next year. 

And so, we have reached the series finale of humanity. 

2020 ends in just under a day. What will 2021 bring us? I do not know, and if the animated shows of this year have taught me anything, is that the future is an always open book, full of worries and challenges, but also opportunities and possibilities. 

...

And in reality I was too lazy to check any news sites about upcoming projects.

[kill-the-feels]

Me again! I just love your writing and idk if I can request two if not it’s ok just ignore this, but can you write one for either Kix or Rex where there’s a lot I mean A LOT of tension between them x reader. They lowkey like each other but won’t even think about doing anything about it bc of regulations/rules. All other clones know and they always tease them. Maybe they do something to get them to confess both their feelings to one another? Maybe some angst and fluff and slow burn? Thank you sooo much

First, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this!! I adore this prompt and it was so fun to write!! (Also, I hope you won’t mind, but I picked Kix! ;) )

warnings: description of injuries, blood mention, angst, some language, a little, tiny bit of steam

word count: ~1.5k

~~~

You suppose it starts out as little touches. Lingering glances and glancing brushes that feel like heavy blows in their aftermath.

It’s the way you swear Kix has a speck of dirt on his shoulder, right below the lurid red medic symbol. The way your hand lingers there for just half a beat too long, cupping the plastoid armor.

Or the way he moves around you, with his hand coming up to rest on your hip just long enough to move past, in a way that would annoy you to hell if it were anyone but him.

Perhaps it’s the way you high five him one day, after he regales you with the story of finally getting the infamous Captain Rex to get some rest. You intend the gesture to be be funny, but then you make contact with his hand and then the two of you just sort of… pause there, fingers splayed out against each other.

Totally normal way of high fiving someone.

It might even be in the way he sits just slightly too close, so that his hand accidentally grazes your thigh when he moves it from his lap to the table.

Once is an accident, twice is suspicious, but five times?

That can’t be a coincidence.

It graduates from there, as all things do. Little touches become longer, excused as necessary even though you both know everyone sees through your shit.

Maybe it’s when Fives walks in on you two sleeping, your head on Kix’s shoulder and his head resting on yours.

He teases Kix so hard, you want to cringe into the floor, even as Kix explains you both just “fell asleep.” Fives rolls his eyes as he leaves.

“Yeah, and I’m blind,” he mutters giving you in particular a knowing look.

Or maybe it’s when you fall and hit your head, not hard enough to cause permanent damage, but hard enough that Kix insists you let him check it out.

You sit in the medbay and watch him move around. If there’s just a bit more urgency in his step, neither of you comment on it. He clicks on a little light.

“Follow this with only your eyes,” he says. Maybe you hit your head a little harder than you thought, because you move your head after the light two different times.

Frustrated, he takes hold of your chin, keeping your head in place with one hand and moving the light with the other.

“Your eyes,” he says slowly, enunciating each word in a way that leaves you focusing on his lips.

“Eyes,” you hear yourself echo faintly.

He leans in while he studies your pupils, titling your face up just slightly. Makes sense, you reason, seeing as you’re sitting down and he’s standing over you.

“Gross, Kix, not in the medbay!” It’s his brother Jesse, making fake gagging noises. Kix jumps and lets go of you like he’s been burned.

“We’re not together.” He says it easily enough, but you don’t miss the glance back over his shoulder.

The longing that’s getting harder and harder to deny.

Were it not for rules, you two would be together in a heartbeat, the tiny part of your heart, the one you spend day after day arguing with, says.

The two of you are more subtle after that. Never alone together, always keeping busy so you don’t have to think about what you can’t have.

And it’s fine, really.

Except when you brush imaginary dirt off his shoulder, or when he brushes past you, or when you high five him, or when he sits just slightly too close, you feel like you’re being burned alive.

As it happens, you two finally reach a breaking point when you, well, quite literally, butt heads.

He’s on his back in the medbay, trying to fix one of the droids. You’re sitting on one of the exam tables above him, talking about senseless things to pass the time, when Kix goes rigid.

“Shit,” he mutters.

“You okay down there?” He’s silent and you slide off the table, squinting into the shadows cast by the droid.

“‘M fine,” he says, voice sharp. It’s a sure sign he’s in pain. You peer closer, noting the way he’s clutching his hand to his chest. Blood is oozing out slowly, over his fingers.  

“Kix!” you say with an undignified yelp of fear. You try and tug him out, and he shrugs you off.

“It’s fine.” Stubborn man.

“Liar,” you say, kneeling over him at the same time he goes to get up.

It’s like watching a disaster happen in slow motion. Your brain knows what’s happening and tries to tell you to move, and you do. But it’s towards Kix’s rising big skull instead of away.

He stand up into you, and you feel more than hear the crunch in your nose.

The taste and smell of blood is instantaneous. You fall to the floor beside him with a groan, hands coming up to cup your poor nose. Kix is on you in a flash, trying to do damage control, but his hand is still bleeding, and it’s making even more of a big mess.

So there you two are, on the floor, moaning in pain, covered in blood. Not your finest moment.

Someone clears their throat, and you two pause in your fumbling attempts to stem the bleeding.

“Kix, I don’t care what you do in your own time. But this is not the place to explore your weirder tastes.” It’s the Captain himself, perhaps the worst person to catch you two like this.

“No, that’s not-”

“He’s not-”

The two of you are talking over each other, and Captain Rex just laughs, leaving you two to suffer in a bloody heap on the floor. Kix extricates himself first, finding bandages with his good hand.

He wraps them around his injured hand, then ties it off with his teeth, a move that almost distracts you from the blinding pain in your face.

Almost.

“Shit, Kix, I think you broke my nose,” you say with another moan. He’s back beside you in an instant, gently prying your hands off.

“Let me look, and I’ll tell you,” he says, after you slam your hand back onto your nose, only to cry out in pain. Not very smart of you.

Kix takes your hands again, placing them to the side and wiping away some of the blood. Your nose is tender to the touch. Carefully, he probes the sides of your nose and you wince.

“Sorry,” he says. There’s a lingering softness in his tone, the same kind of softness you’ve noted in his touches.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. He looks down at you, and you don’t even think about the way he’s still holding your nose.

Instead, you’re caught on his eyes.

He has kind eyes, you decide, the kind that invite you in and make you feel important. Safe. Cared for.

“I, uh, I don’t think it’s broken,” he says. “Just bruised.” Even as he speaks, his hands drift away from your nose, and his eyes move down to your lips.

“Kix,” you say, intending it to come out as a warning. Instead, it’s breathy and needy, and you find yourself arching up to meet him even as he leans down.

Your first kiss is not euphoric, like you would hope. Instead, it’s an experimental peck against your lips and then an accidental knock against your nose, which has you cringing backwards.

But. You have come to expect something like this from you two. So when Kix pulls back in horror at the thought of hurting you further, you’re prepared.

You wind your arms around his neck, tugging him back to you. He comes willingly, caressing your face as he slants his lips across yours.

This time, you would put your kiss safely in the “euphoric” category. It’s like you can finally breath after all this time spent holding your breath. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck while you kiss him, and he hums softly, cradling you to his chest. You sigh into him. No more stealing glances and barely-there touches.

“No, we can’t,” Kix says, voice hoarse as he pulls away abruptly, shattering your dream. You want to cry. Everyone already thinks you’re together, so why can’t it be the truth?

“I know,” you say instead, for him, even as the two of you lean in for another kiss. Kix cups your face this time, thumb stroking your skin as you kiss, and you realize it’s because you actually are crying.

“Cyar’ika,” he murmurs against your lips. You wrap your arms around his chest, tugging him down on top of you.

“I know,” you say again. “Just for a little bit.”

And for just a little bit, he lets you dream. You don’t care that the two of you are a mess, or that anyone could walk in. For now, you have more than lingering touches and glances. You have a promise that down the line, after all is said and done, he’ll pick you.

You have Kix, and that’s enough.

[wolffyluna]

Fic Writer Meme

 I was tagged by @thou-breath-of-autumns-being and @eldritch-elrics. Answers under the cut.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

135

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

387198

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

There’s 22 of them, using a sensible-ish count. There’s Age of Sigmar, MCU, Dragon Age, Dragonshield (yes, the card sleeves), Dungeons and Dragons, Fire Emblem Awakening, Fire Emblem Three Houses, Guild Wars 2, Warhammer 40k, Heaven Will Be Mine, We Know The Devil, Keychain of Creation, Overwatch, Revolutionary Girl Utena, The Adventure Zone, The Magnus Archives, Silmarillion, Undertale, Voltron, TGCF, MDZS, Nirvana in Fire

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

‘The Heat Talking’ - Overwatch omegaverse. It’s popularity is very explicable :P.

‘A Stained Glass Variation of The Truth’ - Xianle Trio sickfic, featuring Mu Qing have a lot of feelings about looking after Xie Lian. This is one of the ones where I look at it’s popularity and go “[nods] my audience has Good Taste.”

‘Let Bastion Say ‘Fuck’‘ - Overwatch crackfic. I wrote for Overwatch a while ago. Those fics are very much not my best work. And Yet.

‘though shadows fall’ - TGCF HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort. (which reminds me, I should really write some HuaLian post nightmare hurt/comfort where Hua Cheng is the one who has a nightmare.)

‘All That Can Be Done’ - Overwatch Genyatta angst featuring Zenyatta dying of a God AI virus.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, I really do, but... if I reply, the comment no longer shows up on the ao3 homepage. I do intend to reply, but the lure of having comments on my homepage wins out most times.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Probably either ‘All That Can Be Done’, the aforementioned fic where Zenyatta dies of a God AI virus and gets killed by Genji, or ‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ where Sazed successfully poisons and kills Taako.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t really write much crossover fanfiction?

...Though I am right now doing an rp featuring a character from a historical tv show set in the Tang dynasty accidentally time travelling into an AU version of the Handmaid’s Tale, so, uh, that’s probably the wildest crossover I’ve been involved in.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I’ve received a few “you’re characterisation is bad and you should feel bad” and “how dare you write something to your tastes and not my tastes!”

‘Always Neater In Morality Plays’ got a... bad reaction. Including a popular blogger vague posting about in a way that made it obvious exactly what fic it is and how grody they found it. They may not have linked the fic directly, but, uh, everyone knew. (And I may have also sent an ill-advised ask along the lines of ‘you have the right to vagueblog whatever fic you like, but for the love of peace could you at least check who is following you, so you don’t put ‘oh god, isn’t this fic the creepiest thing ever?’ straight onto the dash of the author?”  And also a chunk of the TAZ fandom blocked me*.

And then several years later I found out ‘snuff’ meant something different than what I thought it meant (I thought it just meant ‘focus on major character death!) which added an embarassing glace cherry on top of that sundae of bad.

*This became sort of funny when some of these people got into the Magnus Archives. “Oh, so you draw the line at graphic depictions of poisoning, but someone exploding into a shower of worms is fine???”

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I do, yes. As for what kind-- well, my ao3 exists and is a relatively comprehensive survey.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nooooot to my knowledge?

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but if anyone wants to-- [makes ‘call me’ gesture].

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, not yet. I’d be potentially interested in doing one, maybe one of those ones where one person writes one chapter and then another person writes the next. At the moment I have a friend who is also interested in maybe doing that, we just don’t currently align on fandoms.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

[whine] Don’t make me choose between my babies!

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

‘A Shattered Angel And A Broken Fist’. It was one of the earlier fics I wrote, back before I learned that if I wanted to write something long, I needed to have an idea of how it was going to end. I lost momentum and now... I honestly have no clue what should happen next? I have re-read and gone “yep, some stuff should happen. Not sure what stuff.” So while a lot of people like it and it would be nice to finish, its probably not happening.

15. What are your writing strengths?

Hmm, I think I’m reasonably good at dialogue? I’m honestly not sure what my strengths are. I don’t mean this in a low self confidence way, more that I know I don’t have an outside perspective on my writing, and like a fish, I’m not super aware of the water I’m swimming in.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I have a bad habit of people have conversation in Blank Windowless Voids of No Description.

I also have a less bad habit of trying to fill those voids with a) geology and b) Australian fauna and flora. This causes problems when the pov character has no reason to know geology, and the story is not set in Australia.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I am one of those people who pretty much only speaks English, except for the a bit of “Je m’appelle Wolffy. Le chat est petit.” So I don’t write dialogue in other languages. Too much risk of embarrassing error, for not much gain, when you can just use italics or something.

I do have a lot of thoughts about translation conventions in fic where the characters would not be speaking English, and things like whether to live honoriffics. The thoughts are a bit unformed, but mostly revolve around being consistent at least within a fic (no characters being “Your Highness” in one paragraph and “dianxia” the next), trying to avoid the affect you sometimes find in anime fics were every third word is in Japanese, and also trying to maintain character voice. (I occaisionally have moments of “yes, there is an English translation for what this character calls this other character, but it’s not what they canonically say and it’s going to bother me deeply if I only use English.”)

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Depending on how you define ‘fandom’ and how you draw the line between historical fiction and historical rpf, my first fandom was the Bagoas fandom. Not the Bagoas what followed Alexander the Great around, no, the vizier who was around before him.

...I was like twelve at the time, just to make this weirder.

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

[whines harder] don’t make me pick between my babies!

[twixtandshout]

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen. 

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread. 

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

[dvp95]

step into the light

pairing: dan howell/phil lester rating: teen & up tags: uni au, sort of? they're both in uni but this is not about uni, it's about two idiots meeting in the middle of the night at a corner shop where one of them works, and also heelies are involved, fluff, humour, meet-cute word count: 1.4k summary: Dan works the night shift at a corner store and Phil needs a sugar fix.

this was written for @cactilads in october, but i kept it on my back burner in case i wanted to come back to it and make it a whole Story. i've decided that i like it the way it is and i don’t want it on my shoulders like a gargoyle anymore. vivi drew GORGEOUS art for it already, which you can see and reblog here!

read on ao3 or here!

Dan doesn't mind the night shift. It's eons better than when he started his Asda shifts at five in the fucking morning - that was basically actual torture. Sure, it kind of sucks to go to classes at regular times throughout the week when his sleep schedule is swapped for work, but he'd be lying if he said he'd be asleep on Friday and Saturday nights anyway.

It's just boring, most of the time. The owner, a no-nonsense Indian woman a little older than Dan's parents, doesn't give a shit if Dan plays on his DS all night, as long as he doesn't nod off or let anyone break anything. He's been expressly forbidden from dealing with shoplifters in any way but to call the police, which works just fine for Dan. He wouldn't know what to do, anyway, always feels a little tongue-tied and awkward when he sees people shove candy bars and sodas into their jackets. He never calls the police, because, well, it's a fucking Mars bar.

There are a few moments of interest, usually in the form of drunk students livening up the place or exhausted parents stood in front of the baby food for so long that Dan worries they've fallen asleep, but for the most part his weekend shifts go by in quiet Pokémon battles and half-assed studying.

Tonight, though, Dan gets his favourite distraction. He's folded up on his chair in a way that increases his chances of tumbling off it and struggling not to fall asleep on his property law textbook.

Dan glances up as the door of his shoddy little corner shop dings. It's nearing three, which means he's either dealing with someone drunk, high, or very tired.

The guy who comes in is none of the three - at least, not obviously so. He gives Dan a jaunty, familiar sort of wave before he makes a beeline towards the slushie machine. Dan is sufficiently distracted, because this guy is the most bewildering part of his nights.

He doesn't come in every night that Dan's working, but it's often enough that Dan has developed a kind of fixation. Why does he always need an extra large slushie between the hours of two and four in the goddamn morning? Why does he mix all the flavours together and act like it's good (Dan has tried it, many times, and it's awful)? Nothing about him makes any sense at all.

Dan likes a good mystery, especially when it distracts him from property law, so he sits up a little straighter and lets his eyes follow the guy around the store.

And - okay. Okay. Maybe the guy is cute, in addition to being bemusing. He's always got glasses on and his dark hair shoved haphazardly off his forehead, a smile that reaches his sparkling eyes, long legs that always end up catching Dan's gaze.

He's looking at them now, actually, half wishing Hot Slushie Guy could be wearing his usual grey sweats, because the Star Wars pyjamas just aren't doing his thighs justice, when Dan notices the shoes at the end of the nice legs.

At first he just thinks, huh. Weird of a guy who looks uni age to be wearing light-up sneakers, but whatever. He's seen much, much weirder in this corner shop alone. Hell, he's seen weirder from this guy alone, since there was that one night that he'd come in wearing animal slippers of some kind or the other time he'd come with a beret on his head at 4:15 in the morning or the time - the point is, the sneakers themselves don't really give Dan any kind of pause.

Not until the guy goes to get a straw, and instead of walking like a regular person, he shifts onto his heels and glides over.

Dan is dumbfounded. Heelies still exist? What the fuck? He has not thought about them in literal years, not since people collectively decided they were mildly dangerous and very uncool.

This guy doesn't seem to have gotten the memo. He glides back over to his slushie and Dan has a moment of total certainty that he's about to eat shit before he does so, smashing into a rack of magazines with a small yelp and knocking it all to the floor. He manages to stay upright, but just barely.

Dan sighs. At least he didn't spill his stupid drink everywhere.

"Alright, mate?" Dan calls over, coming out from behind the counter. He knows that this doesn't count as letting someone break things, but he still wants to clean it up before Ms. Gujar magically appears behind his shoulder and scolds him.

"Uh," the guy says, his eyes wide and apologetic. He crouches down to start picking up the mess of magazines and Dan, not wanting to look like he's slacking off, joins him. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay," says Dan. He shrugs a bit, stacking the mags into neat piles. "I've had people do stupider shit."

The guy's voice is much brighter when he asks, "Really?"

He's just grabbing magazines at random. Dan has to reach out and take them from him before he puts the Good Housekeeping beside the Cosmo.

"Really," Dan assures him. "I have a spray bottle for breaking up chav fights."

The joke makes the guy grin at him, wide and sparkling and so contagious that Dan has to duck his head to hide his own.

"Well, it doesn't look like much of value was lost," the guy says, holding up a magazine by the corner with his finger and thumb like he doesn't want to touch it. Dan can't stop the embarrassing bark of a laugh that comes out of his mouth when he gets a good look at the cover.

"Bikinis don't really do it for you, huh?" he asks, taking the magazine and shoving it at the back where it belongs. He stands and, after a beat, thinks to offer his hand to help the guy up as well.

His hand is a little smaller than Dan's and soft, like he actually moisturizes. He squeezes Dan's hand before he stands up and again before he lets go. Dan wonders, a little ridiculously, if he's trying to communicate in Morse code or something.

"No, Dan, they don't," the guy laughs, reaching for his slushie like he hadn't almost broken his neck for it.

"How," Dan starts, and then looks down at himself as he remembers that he's got a name tag on. "Oh. Well, that's not very fair. I don't know your name."

The guy takes a long drink of his slushie and then winces. "Ugh, brain freeze. I know your name, but you know that girls in bikinis are boring to me," he laughs, "so I think we're even on the personal information front."

That's not fair. Dan wants to know, wants to stop calling him Hot Slushie Guy in his own mind, wants to find out what he's always doing here to get early morning sugar rushes. Dan feels his mouth twist into a sulk before he can think too much about how uncool that makes him look.

"Well," says Dan, putting his hands on his hips in a way he hopes looks casual and not awkward. "I'm not big on girls in bikinis, either."

He swears he sees those blue-green eyes sparkle. "No?"

"So now we're uneven," Dan says. "And you should tell me your name. Also, why you get a disgusting drink almost every weekend at a time most humans are asleep. Also, also, why you have heelies."

"Wow, that's a lot of questions," the guy says, but he doesn't seem bothered by it. He's still grinning. "You're gonna owe me some stuff, too, y'know. To even it back out. So why don't I pay for this, and I'll keep you company for a bit."

Alright. Dan can work with that.

"As long as you don't use those anymore," he says with a gesture down at the light-up sneakers. "I don't want you destroying the place."

"That's fair. I'm Phil, and I do tend to destroy places when left to my own devices." Now Dan just has to focus on actually calling him that and not just accidentally saying Hot Slushie Guy out loud.

"Nice to meet you, Phil," he says. "You should teach me how to make all the flavours taste good together."

Phil grins around his straw. "It's a science."

"We've got all night," says Dan, a little more hope in his voice than he really wants there to be. Phil grins even wider and grabs for an empty slushie cup.

[amarauder]

Stargirl, Rocketman, and the Greater Dog - Sirius Black x Reader

                     002. star girl, rocketman, and the greater dog

PAIRING; Neil Armstrong's Daughter! Muggle! Reader x Sirius Black

HOUSE; N/A

YEAR; After Hogwarts

DATE; April 20th, 2020.

WORD COUNT; 6183

WARNING; Drinking! Horrible, horrible characterization of Sirius, kissing, a bad word or two, horrible writing and plot, not edited, etc.

A/N; 1. So, I did some research on the Apollo moon landing which was July 20th, 1969. Unfortunately, that would mean that Sirius was around 10 years old when that happened and of course I can't have that so the gang is 18-19 age range, along with reader.

2. Yes, you are the daughter of Neil Armstrong. However, it is not really mentioned at all, just once or twice. Your last name will still be L/N. Your Father is really just a muggle astronaut, that's all I have to say.

please let me know anything I can do to make it more realistic for you.

TRAILER; in which a boy named after a constellation falls for a girl who's dad walked on the moon.

ART CREDS; upthehillart at tumblr.

-

The pub had been a bit too dark for her taste, but the freezing gust of wind outside just picked up pushing her to scurry inside. Walking up to what she assumed was the hostess stand, but seeing no one there, she looked around. All the TV sets were playing replays of previous soccer games, which almost made her laugh out loud. Considering the NFL playoffs were rapidly approaching, she knew that every television in her country was playing American football.

Another gust of wind from someone entering the bar made her shiver. Forcing herself not to look, something she knew was awkward from experience, she drummed her fingers on the counter becoming a bit impatient from the lack of service. However, just as she was about to call over a waitress who was staring at her bit oddly, she couldn't help but overhear the group of people behind her.

"-But Lily wanted a muggle wedding, Padfoot. So, will you-"

"You know weddings are so not my forté, Prongs. You are lucky I love Lily so much."

"Since when did you know such a big word like forté, Padfoot?"

They finally walked into her peripheral view, "But think about all the bridesmaids!," the one with the glasses said and clapped the longer haired one's shoulder, "We all know that Petunia chick sure is nifty."

"Merlin, Prongs, no matter how many times I tell you to let go of your Mother's strange lingo..." The words died out as Y/N realized they had walked right past her. She noticed another couple do the same before letting the embarrassment wash over. The hostess stand was not in fact a hostess stand. In fact, did pubs even have hostess stands?

She sighed before walking over to the bar. Later on, Y/N knew she would be revisiting that moment right as she was about to fall asleep and then cringe in embarrassment. But, fortunately enough, being in a foreign country left plenty of room for embarrassing moments.

She sat two seats down from the couple who came in right after the men with strange nicknames and ordered a drink that she hoped looked normal enough. The one thing that made the lack of knowledge of a different country was the legal drinking age. In her home country she could drink at 21, but in Britain she could have as much alcohol as she wanted at age 18. Something she felt made a lot more sense and liked a lot more.

  However, she had a feeling her choice of drink (that was in fact giving away her lack of knowledge on drinking) was not the main reasoning behind judgmental eyes. Her clothing choice was hopefully what they were staring at. The bartender even gave her a look up and down before shaking his head and muttering something that sounded like, 'stupid Americans'.

Y/N's Father had been invited by leaders all over the world to success. The ceremony was held in the stupid Buckingham Palace and her Father was to be congratulated by the Queen herself. Y/N had been dragged along despite her resistance and last minute had ditched. Now, she was in a grubby pub for the first time in her life in a gown and fat dried mascara tracks fit for the royal palace, itself.

Fortunately, the bartender left giving her much needed space. She chose to look around during the extra time and hopefully distract herself from anything moon related. But once she made eye contact with the long haired man with the dumb nickname and a even dumber leather jacket, who looked way too chipper and eager to talk about her dress, she gave up. Instead, she shuffled through her bag looking for a pen and her notebook.

Finally finding them, she smiled in satisfaction before Bella decided to ruin the moment by barging in the bar. The girl who she had known for about ten days, was way too chipper and nosy for her taste. Bella had been assigned to her by some government official to help show her around, but had instead used Y/N's last name to her advantage. Throwing it around like confetti, Bella had tried and tried to get guys left and right but to no avail. It was actually kind of entertaining.

"Y/N," the girl rushed towards her, tumble of curls going wild, "What are you doing here? Your Mother is furious and your Father is well, we need not to talk about that."

Y/N didn't even look up from her notebook and instead continued to finish trying to find the next blank page, "Well, that is such a pity. Tell Mother-"

Bella abruptly shut the book on her fingers causing Y/N to flinch and hiss at the girl in betrayal. "Listen, I know your knickers are all in a twist because Mr.Armstrong missed your graduation but he really wants you there." Narrowing her eyes and ignoring the pang in her chest from the stupid girl's words, Y/N calmed herself down and tried to think rationally. The girl never cared about her well being, so how did she of all people know about her Father's antics.

Throughout Y/N's entire life, her Dad had continuously proved to her family that work was his most important priority. He hadn't just missed her High School graduation, but he had missed all her graduations, all her sports games, all her recitals, anything that was important to Y/N. No matter how hard she tried to prove herself to him, he never ever showed up or if he did, he left five minutes in. It was a constant battle, as her therapist had said, but now Y/N was supposed to show up to her Dad's important event. Interesting how the tables finally turned.

Y/N only snorted and patted Bella's hand in what she hoped looked like a convincing manner, "Congratulations! You are the first person who I have ever heard say, 'Knickers in a Twist'."

"Y/N! You have to be serious about this! It's important for your Father's career, and not only that but a memorable experience for the both of you."

"Really?" Y/N remarked sarcastically, "Well, you know what is another memorable experience? Your daughter's High School graduation, but he had no problem missing that."

Bella sighed and opened her mouth to speak before she was interrupted by one of the weird nicknamed men, "Excuse me," and Y/N noticed that the rest of them were behind him, not that she was surprised, "Hello, um. You don't happen to be Arabella Figg, do you?"

"Guilty!" the girl laughed daintily and Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes. Remarkably, considering the lack of time Y/N had spent with the girl, Y/N had spent way too much time deciphering between Bella's multitude of personalities that all happened to change whenever a boy was within a five foot radius.

The boys, whom she never actually got introduced too, had even weirder names than their nicknames. Except for James and Peter of course, but they made it up through their nickname she supposed.

After a while, Y/N realized that, thankfully, she was not going to be brought into the conversation and instead continued what she had been doing before she was rudely interrupted, only to be interrupted again by an annoying but very Bella topic: her Father.

"Her father is Neil Armstrong," Bella said and gestured to Y/N who was rolling her eyes.

"Who?" Raising an eyebrow at his question, she ignored the man's probing eyes and continued on with her notebook. But she couldn't get his question out of her mind.  It seemed 'Sirius', whose name she caught on from Bella, was full of surprises. She hadn't met someone who didn't either still at her Father's name or even worse ask her a bunch of probing questions.

"No one," Y/N grumbled moodily but not before giving him a calculating once over which somehow only seemed to give the boy more confidence.

"The first man to walk on the moon!" Bella put in helpfully.

"I just.." Y/N paused her speech when she noticed Remus stiffen at the mention of the word 'moon' and the rest of the posse exchange glances, her stink eye only intensified. "I just don't see why this is such a big deal. The Soviet Union already landed on the moon. This whole thing is completely unnecessary."

"Ya, but it really isn't a moon landing if America hasn't done it, is it?" Y/N was shocked that for one, that the pretty boy named Sirius even knew something (God, she really needed to stop judging.) and for two, that he had blatantly called out her home country like that.

She liked him.

Giving him another once over, she quietly laughed. Y/N didn't quite know what to make of him or his antics, "I suppose. It depends on how you see it."

Sirius leaned forward, "Well, how do you see it, love?"

Y/N also leaned forward, a challenging look in her eye, "None of your business, love."

-

The next few days passed by in a blur. Her family had tried to fit in as much sight seeing as they could in the past week. Y/N had instead been forced to stay in the tiny apartment as a grounding for not coming to her Father's ceremonial service. It had been absolute torture, her family would come back after experiencing something amazing with loads of pictures and stories that Y/N couldn't handle, especially when they decided to bring Bella with them to Big Ben that night.

After having just finished her dinner at a cute little cafe, Y/N set out to go get some much needed alcohol. It had been a stressful but very uneventful trip and she couldn't stand to go back to the tiny hotel room. You can only watch so many seasons of the Brady Bunch before it becomes annoying.

Thanking the waitress after getting her card back, she left the restaurant and braved the harsh weather. London at night was a force to be reckoned with. The sights were absolutely gorgeous, but the streets were absolutely dangerous. As a tourist with limited knowledge about where she was going, Y/N set off for the stupid pub that she went to last week.

The second she walked in there, she made a beeline to the bar. It was surprisingly busy that night and as she looked around in surprise there were no open seats. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped forward and ordered her drink anyway.

Maybe once she came back from the bathroom then there would be an open seat?

Biting her lip but deciding against going back, she got in line behind some man with annoying nice hair. Glaring at the back of the head of the guy with annoyingly nice hair, she sighed and let her head fall against the wall. Instantly regretting it and feeling her head start to pound, she cursed under her breath and rubbed the side of her head.

Why was she so clumsy?

"Real smooth," someone said in front of her. Looking up, she noticed it was one of the weird nicknamed dudes with an either weirder name.

Y/N rolled her eyes and smiled at him sarcastically, hoping to hide her embarrassment, "Thanks, you're a real helper."

"I try my best," he said before sticking his hand out in front of her, "Sirius Black. I remember you from the other night. The daughter of the original rocketman?"

Y/N snorted, "Nice Elton John reference. Ya, and you're the guy with the names related to dogs."

"Impressive. I don't always come across a pretty girl who also knows her stuff, like you."

Taking a step backwards in order to regain her thoughts back for a second, she crossed her arms, "It helps being the daughter of the original Rocketman.

He smirked, "Very funny."

"What? Your music choice or pathetic nicknames, dog face?"

"Touchè. I prefer music but whatever floats your boat."

Pretending not to be amused, she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, "Really, whatever floats your boat?"

"Well, what else did you expect?"

"I don't know," Y/N said, taking in a long sigh and knocking on the wooden wall next to her absentmindedly. Ever since leaving the bar, the man in front of her had been all she could think about. She found herself overanalyzing everything that had happened that night: from Remus walking up to Bella to when Sirius shocked her. She liked a man who could discuss contradicting topics but also defend his own opinion while also acknowledging her own point. It didn't help that he was gorgeous either. "Maybe an explanation or two. I just can't quite figure out why you and your posse all looked at Remus when I mentioned that my Dad was the first to walk on the moon."

"First of all, my friends and I are not a posse, we are the Marauders-"

"Marauders?"

"Our group name," Sirius said as if it was well known information.

Little snorts turning into full-blown laughter, Y/N felt her sides start to ache and her eyes tear up as she laughed. Why on earth would a group of full grown men name their own group?

Sirius only pouted, muttering something that sounded like, 'It's not funny.'

Only giggling more, she patted his shoulder and passed him to use the restroom and said , "Thanks for letting me cut you," before shutting the door.

Finishing using the restroom, she exited it and winked at Sirius before walking over to the bar. Fighting the urge to make sure he was following her, she hopped up on her stool and smiled at the lady next to her who was giving her a glare. She was probably hoping some guy was going to come and sweep her off her feet. Too bad she was an old woman in the middle of a bunch of barely legal adults.

She was about to order another drink, the lady had taken hers, when she felt him. His hand was brushing against her shirt as his hand rested on the back of the stool, "One fire whiskey for me, and one whatever the lady wants."

"I'll just have whatever he is having, please." Y/N smiled at the bartender politely before turning to Sirius.

"What the hell is fire whiskey?"

Blinking at her owlishly for a few seconds, before looking like he had just done something horrible, he rubbed his lips together as if he was a woman putting on lipstick. "It's a kind of whiskey. You'll love it, trust me. Do they not have it in America?"

Y/N shrugged, "I wouldn't know. I don't drink too often, and at my age it would be illegal to drink there."

"That sucks."

"Ya, I know." Good thing she wouldn't have to deal with that anymore, "Anyways, Remus and the moon?"

"Oh, ya. As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted by your laughing," Sirius said with a smirk and pinching her sides making Y/N shriek and wiggle away from him, "I think it's pretty self-explanatory, sweetheart. I mean it's pretty far out that your Dad is literally rocket man. I guess we just all happened to look at Remus, he is the most understanding out of all of us."

Looking at him unimpressed, she rolled her eyes and reached for the drink that was just put in front of her before taking a sip. It burned down her throat and Y/N coughed hackedly.

Sirius chuckled and took the drink out of her hands, "It's not for the faint hearted."

Y/N rolled her eyes and pouted, "I don't believe you."

"What? That you're faint hearted, cause sweetheart, I hate to break it to y-"

"You know what I mean, puppy dog," Y/N interrupted with a sigh.

"Puppy dog? That's a new one. How much of this did you drink, love?"

"Stop changing the subject."

"Fine, you want to hear Reemy's deepest darkest biggest secret of all time?" Y/N nodded earnestly and fought the urge to laugh when Sirius got closer to whisper it to her, "Well, the truth is that Remus is a-"

A cleared throat. Some snickering. An annoyed sigh from Y/N. A sudden feeling of cold.

"Padfoot, who's this?" Y/N turned around and was faced with the other three nicknamed boys. James, the one who had interrupted them, put his hand out in greeting, "You're the girl from earlier, aren't you?"

Y/N nodded, "Nice to officially meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you, James Potter."

The others introduced themselves after that and the drunk-like feeling slowly went away. The problem was whenever Sirius leaned over to whisper something in her ear, it returned. Just like that, she was back on square one, uncontrollable giddiness, dizziness, and ridiculousness.

"So, Y/N what brings you to our little corner in London?"

Y/N smiled, "Well, originally, I was here for my Father's congratulatory ceremony. But, last week, just after I met you all actually, I got an acceptance letter at Oxford. (I wonder if any of you guys can guess why I chose this college out of all of British colleges. Hint: Hogwarts.) I wanted to tour it once more before I accept and start Uni next fall."

James raised his eyebrows but smiled, while him and the other two congratulated her nonetheless. Out of the corner of her eye, she tried to register Sirius' expression but all she got was an annoyed glance towards James, who had elbowed Sirius after her explanation. It was enough to lighten her spirits.

"What about you? Are you guys regulars here?" She asked, trying hard not to seem too obvious.

Sirius shook his head and placed an arm over her shoulder, "Nah," he said while her body stiffened but warmed from the contact. She felt her entire face and neck grow hot but tried to hide her embarrassment by scooting closer to Sirius. "Jamie here is a whipped boy. His fiance wanted a specific type of wedding but is unable to make the wedding planning. So she forced all of us men to come and keep Prongs in check, while he basically repeats everything she wants."

Y/N was barely able to understand what he had been saying, he had leaned in close and his breath was hot on her neck as he talked, but she had been able to get out a dizzying smile and congratulate him. It seemed her mind went to mush whenever Sirius was involved because since he put his arm around her, she had not been able to pay attention to what the others had been talking about.

"I'm sorry, what?" Y/N asked after she had noticed everyone staring at her.

Sirius laughed quietly, "Prongs was just wondering if you would want to come over sometime and meet his fiance?"

-

Sirius had arrived early, which any other time would have been fine, except for the fact that Y/N's parents were late in leaving for dinner with some friends they had made in London.

Her Mother fortunately, was still setting her hair and called for someone else to get the door once the bell rang. "I'll get it!" Y/N hollered and darted to the door, praying to God and any other godly figure she could think of to not let any of her nosy family come into the living room.

Sirius stood at the door with a lazy smirk on his face, that any other time Y/N would have loved but she was in fight or flight mode and that was never good.

Y/N wasn't even ready yet, she had wanted to wait until her parents had left the house to get ready. But plans had changed and now Y/N was still in a tee-shirt and sweatpants. Sirius looked amused.

"Well, aren't we looking dazzling this afternoon."

"Shut up, Sirius," Y/N hissed, pushing him further into the hallway, "My parents are still here."

At this, Sirius perked up. For eagerness to run for the hills or stay and meet the devils themselves, Y/N didn't know.

"Do you not want me to meet them?" He asked and Y/N sighed. She didn't know what she really wanted. Hell, she had just met the guy. Ya, she hadn't been able to stop thinking about him and he had managed to consume her daily thoughts. Now, he had invited her to meet more important people in his life and spend more time with her. Sure, it was a bit fast, especially since they haven't even been on a date yet.

But meeting the parents? That was due after dating for a while! Even with her limited experience she knew that!

He was an odd sort too, something Y/N didn't know she trusted but was always attracted too.

The man in front of her looked at her patiently, a hint of a smirk still ghosting on his features. He tilted his head slightly and Y/N gulped, "Well, would you want to?"

Sirius raised his eyebrows, and Y/N mentally gave herself a high-five. She had managed to catch him off guard, more time for her to ponder whether he should meet her parents or not-especially now.

But before she could make her decision, Sirius shrugged, "Well, why not? I would love to meet Rocketman." Y/N froze for a few seconds and he hastily tried to fix his mess, "Only if you want me too, of course. I don't mean to seem to forward or anything but, I don't mind, is what I am saying. I have been trained to meet adults my entire life-"

Before he could continue rambling, Y/N started to laugh, "Trained to meet adults your entire life? What did your parents give you lessons on how to properly introduce yourself? Oh my God, were you one of those spoilt brats who were forced into lessons on manners and ballroom dancing and all that ridiculous shit?"

"I don't think Mother," he said in a posh voice, "would have liked hearing her 'well-spent' money being called all that ridiculous shit."

"Well, it's a good thing, I'm not trying to impress her then. Isn't it?" Y/N said and leaned forward.

Sirius smiled, and God, it was blinding. The more she stared at him, the more her stomach flipped and flopped and the more addicting, dizzying feeling increased. Her placed his forearms on her shoulders, and her skin tingled, "Yes, it is a very good thing. Now, why don't you get dressed and we can head to James house late, ya?"

Y/N sighed and shifted her weight under Sirius, "Fine, but I wanna show you something first. Stay here, I'll come get you once I change."

Sirius saluted her and stalked over to the window, while Y/N closed the door. Her Mother asked who it was but Y/N merely said a stranger, a man who was lost.

But Sirius was not a stranger anymore, nor a man who was lost, and the permanent smile etched onto her face by a painter who goes by the name of a dog said so.

-

 By the time Y/N got changed and scurried around the little place, it was dark outside and the night was cold. She had a bottle of Sherry in her hand, the only thing she could find in their rented space and a fistful of Sirius's leather jacket in the other.

Her parents had luckily left just before Y/N had finished getting ready, she had hid in the bathroom in order to not be seen and questioned about her appearance.

Y/N assumed they had seen, and hopefully not met, Sirius on their way out. But Sirius didn't mention anything, so neither did she.

"What's in there?" Sirius asked, peeking into the bag Y/N grabbed with her. Swatting his nosy self away, Y/N brought the bag closer to her chest in order to protect it. He wasn't getting near it anytime soon, or until they arrived at the secret destination in a few minutes.

"None of your business."

"Well, I don't know about you. But considering I am here with you, possibly in danger-"

"In danger?" Y/N cried indignantly with a laugh, "Of what? Messing up your hair?"

Sirius grinned, "Precisely."

"I don't think I have ever heard a boy say 'Precisely', Mr.Manners."

"Well, us Brits have to use our accent to our advantage. How else would we wind up with pretty American girls like you?" Rolling her eyes, she shoved Sirius to the wall next to her and opened a window. The window itself was old, which was odd considering the building looked to be rather new. The outlining was painted red, but seemed to be chipping off and the glass itself was blurry as if someone had used the wrong cleaning product on it one too many times.

But Y/N grinned as if she was telling Sirius her deepest, most kept secret and it was drawing Sirius in like a moth to light.

She opened the window and climbed through without a word. It was only a few seconds later she realized Sirius hadn't moved and she stuck her head out again to beckon him in.

As Sirius climbed through, he felt like a different person. Almost as if someone had switched out his brain for someone else's, like Regulus', but he kept the same body. He felt as if he was a puppet moving on strings, only the puppeteer was learning how to control him. He stumbled through the window, and it was an odd feeling for Sirius.

Sirius had climbed through windows drunk before, snuck around a school filled with Patrollers who performed magic on a daily basis, executed pranks on the greatest witches and wizards of their time, but here he was stumbling around like a deer first learning how to walk.

Y/N turned around with another blinding grin, as if to check he was still following her and he almost fell. She laughed lightly and held her hand out to him. Sirius didn't know whether to be embarrassed or delighted.

They finally got to Y/N's little secret spot and Sirius finally noticed that they were outside. The air was chilly around them, just enough that Sirius could use the weather to his advantage. It was dark outside, so dark that Y/N's pretty features all seemed to meld into a nameless face. But the scenery was pretty and Sirius' nerves were buzzing with activity, all the warmth seemingly to be an extension of Y/N.

"Can you believe I just found this place?" Y/N asked, nearly breathless from next to Sirius. Their hands were still connected but Sirius decided not to mention it.

Sirius laughed, his mind finally starting to rebuild itself from the shock of Y/N's touch, "Well, you did just arrive here." She laughed and shoved him, and it was then that Sirius really felt how cold it was outside. She turned away from him and Sirius pouted, if she was really going to play this game then Sirius was going to have to give in.

But she wasn't playing the 'you didn't really hurt my feelings but I am going to pout anyway because I want attention' game and instead she turned around with a devilish smile and two of Sirius' favorite things.

Food and Cigarettes.

She was an angel trying to become a devil. He was screwed.

But Sirius only laughed quietly at her, and this time she pouted, "What, you big meanie."

"Nothing," he paused and waited to see if what he said next was worth it. It was. "It's just you don't drink too much, do you?"

Y/N nodded then scrutinized him as if trying to figure out what he was getting at, "Ya, so..."

"It's amusing to me how you don't drink but you smoke. Usually, if someone is dipping their toe in their rebellious stage then they start with alcohol first."

She rolled her eyes so hard he thought she might hurt herself, "Sirius, that may have been what you did but I started probably before you even knew what a cigarette was."

Sirius raised his eyebrows at her comment but said nothing. He could prove her wrong, but what if he was wrong? The chances of him winning and failing were 50/50 and if it were any other girl, then he would have taken them.

But he knew about three things about Y/N and they were all general: One, She liked Elton John (But who didn't?). Two, she was going to college next fall and wanted to go to some muggle school here, which only excited Sirius more. Three, she was from America. Oh yes, and her family was a bunch of humbugs who liked to go to the moon.

It was four things in total, but that did nothing to help Sirius nerves.

Instead Sirius leaned down on the roof of her rental, and looked at the heavens above him. She lit up a cigarette from next to him. It struck him then, in the glow from the lighter Y/N was very much alike and different from all the other girls he dated.

A girl with probable Daddy issues and a need for exhilaration, but she was intelligent and was going places. Besides, all the girls he dated, he knew of. He had lived in the same castle as them for seven years, Y/N grew up in an entirely different country and lived a life without magic.

She was new, and comfortable, and different, and forbidden in some shape or form.

His parents would have hated her, the ministry still held more than enough laws against what Sirius was doing.

It only brought him in more.

But then she laid down next to him, with a blinding smile and a glow to her face. Smoke floated around her like a halo, and Sirius wondered again if she was more devilish or angelic.

She took another hit before passing it to Sirius, he took it in his fingers and debated smoking or not. Her lips had been around it and he really wanted the first time for their lips to 'touch' to be a kiss, not a cigarette butt.

"Well," she said looking at him expectantly, "I thought you said you've smoked before."

"I have," he said and shot her a look.

"Then, what's stopping you?"

Sirius sighed but took a deep breath of the drug, then he blew it all in her face. She coughed and sputtered while Sirius laughed. She pushed him again, but he only brought her closer and looked up at the stars again.

The cigarette was a good distraction and he took in as much as he could, before she snatched it back from him with a huff.

Then the silence took over, and the stars shone brighter, and the warmth of Y/N lulled his buzzing skin to sleep, and the passing of the drug became a mindless routine. Sirius felt a serene sense of calm wash over him.

-

A light laugh. His head fell to the side. His name was called once. Sirius opened an eye. Burning stars fell from the heavens. He closed his eye again. His nerves buzzed, right near his heart. He opened his eyes. A burning star fell on him.

"Good morning," Y/N whispered as she looked up from him on his chest.

Sirius looked up, it still looked like night to him. He needed to wake up. "How is it," he paused and cleared his throat, "How is it morning?"

Y/N smiled and it was suddenly to bright for him. He wanted to shut his eyes again. "Well, it is only one in the morning."

Sirius groaned, "Bloody hell. James is gonna kill me." It was a lie. James wouldn't kill him, James would laugh and tease him about who kept him so busy and distracted. Lily would be the one to kill him.

Y/N ignored him and played with the cuffs of his jacket. It was quiet for a while as Sirius woke up. He should feel bad for falling asleep on his date, but he couldn't bring himself too.

"Hey, Sirius?" Sirius hummed in response, "Why are you named after a star?"

"It's a tradition in our family to be named after constellations and other balls of fire in the sky." Because that's what stars were, glorified balls of fire.

Y/N smiled at him, and for the first time her smile wasn't so disarming. It was a soft, barely there, closed lip thing but it made Sirius' heart flutter. "That's neat."

"Never really thought of it as neat, but I guess that's a way to think of it."

"Well, what did you think of it then?"

Sirius opened his mouth, then closed it. What did he think of his name? "I guess... I never actually thought about it. James, the idiot, thought of my nickname when we were all fifteen. It all sort of stuck after that."

"Because of the constellation, right? Because Sirius is a star in the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog."

"Umm, ya," Sirius said, glad that's what she thought instead of the truth.

"Did you know that Sirius is the brightest star visible from any part of Earth?" She whispered and Sirius' heart whispered back, "You stupid, stupid, falling star."

"Nope," Sirius said with a grin and squeezed her, "But I do now." He made the mistake of looking down at that moment. She was giving him that grin again, the grin that would forever be on the edge of a smile and a smirk, the edge of an angel and a devil.

Her hand reached up to his jaw, and she became a star girl, shinning bright above him. Her blinding light beaconed him closer and closer, until it consumed him whole.

-

a/n; i really don't know what this is and the whole star girl thing and angel and devil thing. but I don't know. it's just something i came up with along the way. and i know sirius is so out of character, but i like to think that Sirius is different with a girl he really likes. like completely overtaken by her and super mushy gushy type romance, but doesn't like to show it? i dunno. I'm working on trying to better my writing and I noticed that a lot of it is tell not show, so i tried my best to make it the opposite but I dunno. I would love to hear your thoughts!

Also, this is not just a marauders one shot book like it was previously! I know I have only been writing for marauders only, but it's a hp book! but requests are still closed! i want to get through all of my own ideas before i open up requests again! :)

Hope you all are having a wonderful day!

[glowyjellyfish]

FF7 remake thoughts from Wall market and the sewers (chapters 9 and 10 I believe); spoilers through there for the remake, and for the whole OG:

-cloud took his gloves off cloud has hands ahhhhhhh

-i love the twisty alleyways of Wall Market

-i avoided doing all the OG things because I felt I needed to wait until it was time to make Cloud pretty… but then i realized the mechanics are totally different, at least so far. Nobody’s even talked about getting Cloud in there yet! It’s great that he trusts Aerith to go in by herself, and it’s great that the game isn’t going “hee hee let’s put a man in a dress! It’s a joke because he’s a man in a dress!” but dammit I really enjoyed that Aerith’s mind went right there in the OG

-I did not expect to like madame M this much. She’s fantastic and I want to know the sordid past between her and chocobo Sam. such tension. 

-I could only afford the normal massage because i went shopping like an idiot, but i had to have hardedge! Now i am concerned that cloud won’t get to be maximum pretty! Also I told aerith that it didn’t matter what I thought of her clothes, which seemed like the better option between “it looks comfortable” and “it’s alright”, and I’m also concerned that my choice will put her in something that’s not her amazing red dress I just want them all to be as pretty as possible and have a fun time and not be mean to anybody

-hell house was tough as fuck, also amazing, and i was so proud when i squeezed out a win on my first try on it. Don’t know whether that is usual but i am so pleased, I used assess, and I didn’t even have an Ice equipped!

-OH I ADORE that Aerith didn’t even spare a second to be jealous of Tifa heading to Wall Market, she just immediately went for lady solidarity and wanted to rescue Tifa from perverts even more than Cloud did, I’m so excited to see them be friends!

Day two of playing wall market:

-johnny is suuuper obnoxious but in a sort of loveable way. I don’t want him constantly hanging around, but it’s also kind of hilarious, especially in the overall context of how in the OG he was poorly translated and just kept popping up places and it was tough to tell what his relationship to cloud and tifa was supposed to be. Also, makes me wonder if the various makers of this game were familiar with ObstinateMelon’s FF7 web comic on deviantart, which really leans into his weird mistranslated obnoxiousness.

-I don’t know whether Cloud and Aerith got the official prettiest dresses, but they sure looked super pretty to me. Aerith got her red dress from the trailer and was stunning; Cloud was the prettiest boy at the ball with a corset dress and gold necklace, and he wowed everyone with his dance moves despite feeling sooo awkward and stumbling from time to time, and he got picked. I’m so proud of him/me. Tifa’s the only one whose outfit I feel was bad, and I am not entirely clear on whether I got her a bad dress, it’s supposed to be canonical iffy dress sense/trying to appeal to Corneo (after all, she didn’t get the professional fabulizing that Cloud and Aerith got), or if it’s just because that dress happens to not be to my taste.

-BUT the part where Aerith and Tifa beat up Corneo’s men? Instead of staying with Cloud we got a whole scene with them kicking ass and we got to control them and they high-fived and complimented each other and it was amazing, easily my favorite scene in the game so far

-I am constantly coming up with new theories to explain the flash-forwards and guardians of fate, and I should probably just finish the damn game before I try, I barely know anything. And now Aerith is implying she can see the future to some degree, what’s up with that??

-I’m excited I finally saw Reeve in action! He had like two lines and he’s only gonna get like two more if they continue to sensibly play him close to the chest, but he’s there and he’s good.

-speaking of reeve, I was pleased you can still spy on a couple of Honeybee Inn rooms (oh my god Palmer, like in the deleted scenes, but still palmer), and a tiny bit bummed that we didn’t have the older couple that’s implied to be Reeve’s parents. Only a tiny bit, because 1. Reeve’s one of the top executives at the corporation that runs the world, he can afford to send his elderly parents to a place that’s not so skeezy, and 2. The biggest reason to assume they’re his parents is the tiny Cait Sith in the room. Reeve, why would you leave a robot you personally control and at the very least get some sort of video feed from if not literally see through the eyes of in your parents’ romantic hotel room? That’s weird, Reeve. That’s way weirder than just having the robot in your arsenal to begin with. Good reason to cut it.

-I adore that the game barely gave a nod to the possibility of the ladies being jealous of one another before diving in head first to Tifa and Aerith best friends foreverrrrrr! Expanding on the actual positions of the actual OG, and not allowing fandom perception over the years turn it into a shitty love triangle. It’s a respectable love triangle, dammit.

-also, have i mentioned how much I enjoy hearing the characters swear? Especially Aerith, but it’s just fun overall. I sincerely hope they are permitted one instance of “fuck” in the entire series, and give it to Cid. He deserves it.

-Thinking it over, I actually really enjoy the whole concept of the sidequests. It’s not just dicking off to a random dungeon or breeding chocobos for a solid week, it’s Tifa and Aerith supporting Cloud in his insistence on being a mercenary and helping him make that work. It’s making that a genuine job for him rather than just a label to slap on himself. It’s Tifa imparting her experience from running a business, and Aerith showing how important people skills are. (OH did I mention at any point how much I loved people in sector 5 reacting to and chatting with Aerith as we walked around? That was amazing!) 

-...in general, it delights me how often we are treated to controlling another character, usually Aerith so far. In the OG I loved any time you could control a different character, and aside from Tifa and Cid it was so rare.

[ghostrobin]

A Nightmare

I look up. This place is weirder than I expected. The gym is bigger, and I don’t remember an eagle mural. I’m pretty sure we were the badgers. Then again, every other high school in America called themselves the Eagles. Maybe my memory just entered in “Generic High School Info” for whatever I forgot.

I try not to think about the mural. I’ve got a drink in my hand. It’s punch. I can be certain it’s punch because unlike every movie ever, spiked punch has never made its way to our school events.

A girl walks towards me.

My pulse speeds.

Not in a “Love at First Sight” romance novel way.

In a “I have social anxiety and can’t do this” way. Also known as the “I might puke on her cute pumps” way. Also known as the “it’s too late to run away she’s already here” way.

I force myself to smile. And then I stop, because she gives me a strange and uncomfortable look. My forced smiles look a lot more pained than most peoples. So, I settle for taking a very long drink of my punch. The drink tastes like it once met a cherry and briefly shook its hand.

This girl-woman is very difficult to imagine as a Real Adult Lady. We are standing in a poorly streamered gym holding small paper cups of watery red juice and she is wearing the exact same shade of pink lip gloss as my 10 year old. I haven’t seen anyone wear those platform pumps since the 90s. She manages to make the outdated look cool. I wonder if she calls them vintage. I realize too late that I haven’t said anything.

“Hey!” Her voice is high and sweet and questioning. “You look different!”

I’m not sure if she means “You look like you might collapse” or if she thinks she knows me and therefore “different” is how she is explaining why I don’t look like the person she is thinking of.

I squint, just to be sure.

I should have wore my glasses, but I didn’t, so here I am.

The problem is, I didn’t socialize much in high school and this woman-girl looks like she could be any one of the dozens of girls I was too shy to talk to.

“Yeah? I usually wear my glasses.” I fiddle with the bangs falling directly into my eyes. “I cut my hair?”

I can see the woman’s face slide into boredom as I fail to ask about anything interesting. Likely, she means for me to ask what she’s up to and she means to tell me about her amazing new job. I don’t want to know, so she is shit out of luck.

“Yes, it’s very cute.” She waves down a passer by. “Hey, Joey, look who it is!”

I shift on my feet.

I still don’t know her name. At this point, it’s too awkward to ask.

“Oh, yeah! How are you doing?” He walks up and shakes my hand. A clammy palm joins a limp fingered grip and I barely contain my cringe.

Joey is the man-boy version of the girl-woman. He has on slacks and a polo and his hair is carefully combed in exactly the same way my father combs his hair. I know it must be hiding a significant bald spot, and the deep widow’s peak isn’t helping. The overall affect is less “attractive” and more “desperately clinging to youth”.

I pull my hand away, just barely resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my shirt. I can feel the cold-hot flash of anxiety over my skin. I just want to leave.

A wrinkly older lady joins the small group amassing around me. I’m pretty sure I don’t know any of these people. Am I having a nightmare? Is this what hell is? Awkward and uncomfortable social situations that just keep piling on top of each other? I discreetly pinch my arm and bite my tongue to keep from shouting ouch into the face of the stooped old woman. So it’s not a nightmare then--must be hell.

“Hey Principal Josey! Last time I saw you I was in detention for skipping! How’s the grandbabies doing?”

I turn to the girl-woman and try to assess whether or not she is joking.

I remember all four of my high school’s principles. They all had ridiculous names, like Lickett and Wumble.. It’s hard to forget a principle named Lickett. Especially when said principal tried to live up to his name with every underage girl in junior year. None of my principals had a name like Josey.

“What year did you graduate again, Joey?” I ask him quietly, while the girl-woman talks of grandchildren. Maybe I came to the five year instead of the ten?

“Come on, it’s on the banner up there!” He waves up, and I follow his hand until my eyes catch a banner hanging tight from the ceiling.

“CONGRATULATIONS EAGLES OF 2010!”

I graduated 2010. It’s the right year.

I take a second to look around the crowd of ex-students-turned-accountants and felt the horror sink into the pit of my stomach.

I don’t recognize any of these people. Not a single one.

I don’t recognize any of the teachers or the football players--not even the ones stuffed into their old high school jerseys and pants. I don’t recognize the girl wearing a loud and proud pansexual pin on her “proud to be PANsexual” shirt (though I do commend her on having the panpipes instead of the usual skillet.)

I don’t recognize the school colors or the school mascot.

I don’t recognize anything.

I am in the wrong school.

How did I even get here?

Does anyone else notice?

Why do all these people think they know me?

How am I going to leave?

“I have to go.” I say it without thinking up an excuse at all. It comes out louder than expected, more of a shout than a calm statement.

Everyone stares at me. I apparently interrupted Principal Josey’s story about one of her ten grandchildren.

“I just realized... um. I’ve got to go... leave... Now.” I turn and walk away and pretend like I definitely can’t hear the girl-woman asking if everything is alright.

God I hate high school.

[lokidiabolus]

Hey, Misha! Needless to say, I absolutely adore your writing 💓 I've always loved Childhood Friends!AU and I was wondering if you're keen on writing a prompt (or more prompts, it's not like I would be complaining haha!) about Newtmas as childhood friends? It would be so cool!

To be completely honest, childhood friends!AU is one of my favourite tropes ever. I had several ideas in my head for it, but this one occured to me y-day after p browsing internet, finding a picture of unrequired love kind of thing. I'll probably return to the childhood friends!au with different ideas, but I just had to get this one out ^^

Ao3 Version.

Newt was born in England, Brighton, but when hewas five, his family decided to move to America and settle down in a house witha white fence and a dog, living the American dream.  Newt hated it there – he hated how peoplespoke, he hated how they laughed, how they behaved, how nothing was like he wasused to. He missed his friends and their little house near the coast, the airand the beaches.

After a year he got used to his new life to adegree where he didn’t whine to his parents anymore, but secretly remainedbitter about people around him, until the first day of the first grade where hemet Thomas in his class.

Thomas was a kid of the same age; with bigbrown eyes and really adorable way of pronouncing “squirrel” (that was also whyNewt remembered him so well right the first day). He didn’t live too far fromNewt’s house, just few blocks actually, and he was the friendliest person Newtmet in America so far. They became friends very fast and 11 years later Newt consideredhim his best friend he could tell everything to.

Well, almost everything.

He started crushing on him when he was aboutfifteen, but if he really wanted to be honest, he probably somehow fell in lovewith Thomas’ adorableness right in the first grade and it stuck to him like aglue. He tried to get rid of the feeling at first, because hey, two guys andThomas being straighter than an arrow didn’t really offer anything but trouble,but he failed miserably, so he just decided to ignore the problem until it wouldeventually go away.

He was 17 now and it was still there. Newt wouldeven say worse than before, especially when Thomas started to date his highschool sweetheart Teresa and Newt had no idea what to do with himself. He wasstill the best friend, still the main person Thomas turned to and telleverything (sadly definitely everything)but how the creeping desperation inside of him progressed, Newt started to hatehimself with passion and the fear of not fulfilling the expectation of the TheBest FriendTM was eating him up alive.

“You’re awfully quiet today.”

Newt jolted and almost spilled his drink he wasabsentmindedly holding all this time, while sitting in Thomas’ bedroom,completely ignoring the TV that was playing. He didn’t even know why he cameover in the end, but it probably involved Teresa not being present. Spendingalone time with Thomas had been rather difficult lately, but Newt thought itwas better, since it would give him less chances to screw up.

“Sorry,” he put the glass with drink on thetable, wiping his hand to his trousers. “Just thinkin’.”

“’bout?” Thomas’ voice was full of curiosityand Newt sometimes thought he should work harder on pretending everything wasfine before Thomas would put one and one together.

“How lame your hair is today,” he shot back,glancing at his friend with a perfectly faked smirk, and Thomas sputtered.

“Noooo…”

“You look like an idiot,” he insisted, becausehey, Thomas really did look strange with the hair being all up and ready to runaway, judging from the weird angles it had. He kind of guessed it was Teresa’sinfluence or something, but it didn’t mean it looked good. Thomas groaned andslid down his bed and onto the floor like sack of potatoes.

“Fuck, I really hate it too,” he heard himsaying. “But I tried; therefore no one should criticize me.”

“Go wash it,” Newt nudged him and Thomascrawled away, whining all the way to the bathroom, and then some more frominside. He was dating Teresa for about four months now and Newt was alreadyspotting her touch on all kind of things – the hair, some clothes, even musictaste. All things were screaming no toNewt, but he couldn’t really say much about it, unless he wanted to upsetThomas marginally (unless it was really bad, like the hair today). They weremeeting up less too, gaming together felt like impossible task and all the freetime got usurped with deadly accuracy, as if on purpose. But Newt was braveenough to say it couldn’t be Teresa’s aim, because he was really trying hisbest to pretend, and nobody found out yet. Thomas even preferred her most ofthe time and Newt wasn’t the one to complain, it was usually other Thomas’friends who did.

Or was it because he wasn’t loud enough?Because he acted so reconciled with the fact Thomas was in love with somebodyelse?

No, he thought. Can’t be it. Would be weirder if I whined about it.

“Phew, that’s better,” Thomas emerged back fromthe bathroom, towel around his shoulders and his hair wetly plastered on hishead. “That’s for me believing what a girl is saying.”

“Feels bad, man,” Newt commented with a smile andThomas sat next to him on the floor with a sigh. The TV played some randomdrama and Thomas seemed too interested in it, which meant something wasbothering him but he tried to pretend everything was fine.

Newt tilted his head to the side and nudged himagain.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly and Thomasmade a face at the TV. Newt wasn’t sure if it the scene was that bad, since hebarely paid attention, or if it meant he didn’t want to talk about any problemthat could be occurring.

“Think I’m a shitty bf,” Thomas said with hiseyes still fixated on the screen. Newt stared back at him with no idea what thehell to say, until Thomas finally glanced towards him with embarrassedexpression.

“What,” Newt managed, his mind reeling. True,it was kind of strange Thomas wasn’t with Teresa as he always did, or at leaston the phone texting her, but he didn’t really think much of it until now. “Why?”

“Cuz she’s not happy,” Thomas answered withsurprising calm.

“Not happy?” Newt repeated incredulously. Whatelse she wanted from Thomas than what he was already giving her? They werebasically always together lately too. “She told you or something?”

“She didn’t need to,” Thomas shrugged, but itlooked rather weak. “She’s not happy cuz I’m not happy.”

Then break up withher, Newt greedyside wanted to say, but he forced himself to stop. Under no circumstances hewould say something like that, ever. Hewas going to support Thomas because he was his best friend, even though herepeated it in his head like mantra too many times so it would still be true.

“Did something happen between you?” he askedinstead, carefully, like walking over broken glass, and Thomas shook his head. “Youtalked about it with her?” Thomas nodded. “And?”

“I guess it’s kinda over?” Came a reply andNewt’s heart almost stopped. They broke up? Broke up for real?

Nonono, stop thinkingabout it!

“’m sorry to hear that, man,” Newt forced outas apologetically as he could and patted Thomas on his back. “Can I do anythingfor you to feel better?”

Because of course his stupid, greedy self wouldsay that. Like oh great, you broke up,let’s spend more time together again, so I can get my dose like a junkie beforeit’s too late!

“You being here is already doing a lot,” Thomassmiled at him gratefully and Newt kind of wanted to cry. This was not fair andyet it absolutely was, and in the end it changed nothing and it never would.Teresa might have been out of picture, but there were going to be other girls,other dates and relationships and Newt was stagnating on one spot, unable tomove forward, the best friend watching from side lines.

“Anytime, man,” he said anyway and when Thomasrested his head on Newt’s shoulder like a content overgrown cat, Newt waspretty sure he was soon going to burn in hell.

***

“Man, I’m so jelly of that guy.”

“Huh?” Newt raised his head from the notes whenWinston was staring into his phone like somebody sent him a death threat.

“I wanted to buy a ticket for today’s B-Clubperformance, but they are all sold out already,” Winston whined, uselesslyclicking on order while getting errormessages.

“That rubbish band?” Newt raised an eyebrow andWinston made a face at him.

“They may be rubbish, but it’s full of prettyladies, sue me,” he commented with pursed lips and Newt shook his head with achuckle. “And that bastard Thomas already have a ticket!”

“What?” that made Newt alert again, this timewith confused undertone. Thomas never listened to the band, quite frankly nevereven paid them much attention, despite the fact it was full of young girls, andsuddenly had a ticket for the show? Why?

“That chick Brenda got him one,” Winston letout a sigh. “Seriously. Lucky bastard, scoring a date and ogling at one night.”

A date?

Newt hated how his stomach clenched at that,like somebody was kicking him repeatedly. It had been two weeks since the break-upwith Teresa and Thomas fell back into his let’shang out every day routine with Newt. They usually had at least dinnertogether, either at Newt’s or Thomas’ home, and their parents were like: oh, glad to see you coming here again [name]!It was almost like they were kids once more, playing videogames or justtalking, even helping each other with assignments. Thomas never mentioned anyBrenda during the talks, and Newt was perfectly sure if there was a dating possibility,he would tell Newt as the first person. And Newt would smile and congratulatehim, as he always did, and the meetings would diminish, as they always did, andeverything would be the same once more.

But now he didn’t know about anything thatmight have even resemble Thomas wanting to date, and unless he met her justtoday and she immediately gave him a ticket for a rubbish show, it just fellout of the learned way of Thomas’ behaviour pattern.

He despised himself the moment he grabbed hisphone and sent Thomas a message about tonight’s dinner, because his masochisticside of wanting to suffer just couldn’t be repressed, apparently. Surely Thomaswould tell him about dating. Surely Winston just heard wrong?

Thomas – 14:21 – Sorrymy man, can’t tonight! Call it for tomorrow though, ayyy!

Newt sent something neutral back, he knew that,it was a well learned move, and then the rest of the day somehow passed as ablur.

***

“Chinese food.”

“Your favourite,” Thomas responded proudlywhile presenting the kitchen table full of white, neat boxes. The food in themsmelled fantastic and there was too much for just two of them, and Newt bit histongue in order to keep any questions about yesterday inside. Thomas waspractically glowing and he knew that kind of state – falling in love, beingobsessed, overdosed with endorphins. Newt had no bloody right to pry into it ifThomas didn’t want to tell him, and maybe it was easier with the blissedoblivion for a little longer.

“You’re too nice,” he said instead withpracticed smile, and no, he was happy for him, he was glad Thomas was in goodmood and in great place right now. He was still his best friend, and bestfriends were basically family. He was (bitterly) happy for him. “What’s theoccasion?”

“You looking like an advertisement for Twiggyfashion?” Thomas joked and pulled a chair away, gesturing for Newt to sit down.

Oh no, Newt thought. He’s going to drop something huge. He’s never this super nice without areason.

“Thomas,” he eyed him warily, but the brunetjust grinned and gestured towards the chair again, so Newt sat down and hopedfor the best. “You’re creeping me out now.”

“Oh no, this soon?” Thomas faked a shock andNewt wanted to groan. “What are you going to say after the candles and themarching band I ordered to play your favourite song?”

“I’d just rather die already,” Newt buried hisface in his hands and Thomas laughed in honest amusement and patted his back.

“Oh c’mon, Newtie, you know you love it anyway,”he had the nerve to wink at him and when he finally sat down on the other chairand handed Newt one of the boxes without pulling a bouquet of roses out of hisass, Newt could relax a little.

“So, I had been thinking,” Thomas started and Newtbraced for the inevitable as casually as he could. It was fine, a good friendordering his favourite food while telling him something insane, like thatwhoever Brenda had been was now pregnant and Thomas was dropping out of schoolto marry her to have a nice house at the beach, a golden retriever and a whitefence.

Good grief, I hopenot, for his own sake.

“I hope it didn’t hurt,” Newt piped withoutlooking at him when Thomas grew quiet. “You rarely use your brain, don’t strainit too much in one go.”

“Oi, I use it when it counts!” Thomas retortedback with a smile in his voice and Newt’s mouth curled up in a smile too,almost involuntarily. He kept his eyes on the food though, just to be sure.

“So?” he asked matter-of-factly and Thomassighed.

“Are you not going to look at me at all tonight?”

Newt blinked and glanced up, spotting Thomas’sour expression aimed at him.

“Huh?” he let out stupidly. “Uh, sorry. Lookingat you now.”

The sour expression stayed and Newt cleared histhroat and put the box back on the table.

“Sorry,” he repeated. “What’s yours I had been thinking thing then?”

“Eh, never mind, the mood is gone,” the brunetshrugged and reached for his food as well. “My bad.”

He didn’t elaborate even when Newt was glaringat him for a full minute after and then half of the first episode of Scrubs.

***

It came as no surprise when Thomas couldn’tcome for dinner the next day or the day after. It gave Newt the right message,and quite frankly he was a little glad he managed not to hear Thomas out theother day, because even when he could imagine what Thomas had to say, it wouldstill take too much effort to keep straight face during it. So he was nowcontent with the Schrodinger relationship that kept Thomas busy and justwallowed in his own self-pity for a change.

Was it going to be like this forever? Was hegoing to pin after him until he would be old and wrinkly and Thomas would havea wife, and kids and grandkids and occasionally invite Newt over for the good old-timesake while sporting his wife’s favoured brand of clothes and hairstyle?

Am I going to bebitter and alone forever because I just can’t give up?

He took his phone, his eyes fixated on Thomas’name in the chat log, and the last message was a lil busy this week, I will make it up to you.

“Make it up to me,” he read out loud, the lightfrom the phone almost blinding him in the dark room where he was hidden underthe covers.

Newt – 20:11 – Hey, Ireally miss you. Hewrote, then his fingers stopped and got back to the delete button, erasing thewhole message.

Newt – 20:15 – I loveyou since the first grade and can’t stop thinking about you. He wrote again, his fingerstrembling, and it hurt inside. He left the text shine on the screen for awhile, reading it over and over again, but it didn’t make it a lie, it didn’terase the truth in the words. He deleted it again until there was only ablinking cursor staring back at him, mockingly challenging him to writesomething that wouldn’t completely destroy the friendship he clung to almosthis whole life.

Newt – 20:30 – Hey! Anyplans for tonight? :)

He hit sent and tossed the phone next to him onthe mattress, leaving it bounce several times before landing screen down,muting the light. He knew what answer to expect and didn’t want to read itanytime soon.

The sleep claimed him almost immediately.

***

“Newtie, you’re getting old,” said Thomas’voice in his dream. It was warm and friendly and Newt imagined him sitting onhis bed, gently stroking his hair while smiling down at him.

“Am I?” he asked back, basking in the raremoment of calmness, free of bitter reality and his own wicked thoughts abouthis best friend.

“Falling asleep so early,” Thomas was stillsmiling and his hand was warm on Newt’s cheek, caressing it. “Is there somethingon your mind?”

“You,” Newt responded back and it was so easyand liberating to say it. “It has always been you.”

The caressing stopped for a fraction of second,but then Thomas was leaning down, tilting Newt’s chin up, and his lips were alittle dry, but Newt loved the kiss anyway. It was soft and gentle, like sailingon waves of serenity and when Thomas started to pull away, he boldly chased hislips, stealing one more kiss before letting go, swiping his tongue over Thomas’lower lip in satisfaction.

“I know it’s a little overdue, but,” Thomas’voice was lower now, huskier, and Newt goddamn loved this kind of dream. He lethis best friend, his unfulfilled love, to sit over him like a knight waking upa princess and it was ridiculous to think about it that way, but it fitted sowell Newt just had to chuckle at the thought.

“What?” There was evident confusion in Thomas’eyes, but Newt wished it away – not here, not now. Thomas, his dream Thomas,understood his thoughts.

“A knight and a sleeping beauty,” he said witha smile and Thomas barked out a laugh.

“Can’t say it doesn’t fit,” he agreed, and Newtfelt more clarity now, more noises came to him. He must have started to wake upand the thought made him sad.

“What I meant to say,” Thomas started talkingagain and Newt started to feel thirsty, like after a night in a hot room, and alittle stuffy. Didn’t he turn off the heating before going to sleep? Damn, itwas already ruining the dream like an apocalypse. “Was that I had beenthinking-,”

“Déjà vu,“ Newt mumbled and then it hit him.

He wasn’t sleeping. This wasn’t a dream. Thomaswas in his room, sitting on his bed, talking to him. Kissing him.

“And you never let me finish,” Thomas sighed,fully in flesh and here and Newtstarted to panic. The terror was setting in his bones like lead and pinned himto the bed with deadly accuracy of somebody, whose sentence was to die in thevery bed, by shame and mortification and so, so much bitterness.

“What are you doing here?” Newt croaked out,his eyes wide, and Thomas didn’t move an inch from his current bent downposition above him. The living nightmare was too cruel now, too merciless.

“You asked me what plans I have, I answered youand you didn’t reply,” Thomas responded with eerie calm for somebody who justgot kissed by his best friend out of the blue. “So I stopped by, auntie saidyou’re in your room and then I found you here sleeping.”

“Oh no,” Newt croaked. “Oh god no.”

“Then I kissed you, you were fine and now you’refreaking out,” Thomas ended the elaboration and added an eyeroll for a goodmeasure. Newt hoped the bed would open and swallow him whole.

“You were a dream!” Newt whined in defence, butunfortunately knew already it wasn’t the case. Thomas was here, and had beenhere when the apparent dream started, and Newt told him things he shouldn’thave, and the world might have ended today and it would be just perfect.

“Nope, not really,” Thomas assured him. “Wait,do you mean you’d kiss only dream me but not real me? Where’s the equality?”

“Thomas, please-,”

“Newt, I know you’re a smart guy,” Thomas didn’tlet him finish. “I know you are. But this is slow even for a snail running dry,just realize it already.”

Newt never felt so scared in his life, sofragile upon hoping in impossible, of Thomas being here, telling him he likedhim back in his own way, and no, it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be happening.Not after all these years and-

“So I had been thinking,” Thomas started once more,and it was so familiar now, and he even stopped, looked at Newt expectantlylike he was challenging him to interrupt him once more, but Newt remained quietas a mouse, drinking Thomas in. “I had been thinking that we should date.”

Newt was happy the world didn’t end just yet.

[dontcallmecarrie]

Fic Idea: WtNV/Twilight crossover

Wherein Bella hails not from Phoenix, Arizona, but from a friendly desert community where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful, and mysterious lights pass overhead on a regular basis.

 And dogs are not allowed in the Dog Park.

Fandoms: Twilight (books, probably movies too? Haven’t seen them), Welcome to Night Vale (podcast)

Warnings: everything Welcome to Night Vale-related. [So, cosmic horror, Librarian-caliber violence and gore, etc.] On the other hand, at least there’s semi-healthy relationships, here? Semi-unreliable narrator, because growing up in Night Vale makes for a skewed reference frame re: what is and is not sane and/or impossible.

Under the cut because of reasons. [You know why.]

 Bella's mother and stepfather were a bit whimsical about where they'd end up living, and chose the classic 'throw a dart on a map'.

In one life, the dart might've landed near Phoenix, and the rest would have been history.

In this one, however…Renee's (I think that's what her name is, it's been years since I last touched the books) aim was slightly off when she threw the dart.

Bella still visits her father regularly, of course.

 So she knows some things are slightly off, but thinks it’s Forks that’s pretty weird. She only visits for a few months out of every year, though, so she shrugs it off.

 The older she gets, the more she realizes some things are lost in translation; it's her father that recommends she join the Girl Scouts, but seems to think she's joking when she talks about earning her Controlling Plants with Minds patch., and by the time she's gotten her Radiation Immunity patch she's given up telling him just what her troop gets up to.  

The camping trips, where she befriends Jacob Black and shows off her Surviving in Nature badge skills, merely net her some weird glances, but…eh. Could be worse, though explaining just where she'd gotten her machete from had left everyone involved with more questions than answers.

 Not to mention the Summer Reading Program—the first time Bella survived it, she'd left for Forks not a week later. Charlie had congratulated her for her reading chart, and left it at that.

So she doesn’t really talk about it. Or her Unmodified Sumerian classes, or the bloodstone circles, or…

  Time goes on, and Bella's visiting for less and less time, because the older she gets the more things pile up, and by the time she's reached high school her internship at the radio station means she's busier than ever, running errands for Station Management and Cecil, and simply surviving.

 It's not until StrexCorp shows up, however, that Bella deems it a good idea to visit Charlie again.

Well…it's less her idea, and more 'StrexCorp bought their neighborhood and is working on shutting down Night Vale High and instating their own charter schools in time for her class to graduate and fuck that noise'.

Plus, it's not like she had much cause to stick around, not when Phil and Renee had been planning on doing something for his job prospects [which, incidentally enough, had been something StrexCorp could slightly respect. Go figure].

So, really, between the choice of attending a Desert Bluff school [ugh], or Forks High, it was really a no-brainer for Bella.

 Even if Forks was a kind of weird place.

 …it's been a while, actually.

Turns out, distance doesn’t make the heart grow fonder, it just makes things less weirder. 

[Seriously, just how did younger her not notice some things?]

It's been years, but Bella's still vaguely terrified by how green everything is. The Whispering Forest was five minutes from her house, after all. She wholeheartedly approves of the rain and the various clouds [even if none of them glow here. Weird].

Fork's high school isn't that bad, but Bella sorely misses her Unmodified Sumerian credits.

And she's vaguely confused by everyone's complaining about PE. [It had some very good real-world applications, what was the big deal? Dodging fireballs invoked by black magic was easy, compared to Chad Steinbeck's throwing arm.]

Kinda weird how nonchalant everyone was about their librarians, though by now she's almost used to how everyone laughs whenever she talked about the killer Summer Reading Program. [Younger her had merited a few curious glances when she'd clung to her backpack, as if carrying duct tape and several days' worth of food and water wasn't a perfectly rational thing to have in a library. Weird.]

 And her dad's Police Department must be having severe budget cuts, if his patrol car can't fly and he doesn't even have a balaclava. [So, very, weird.]

She's still fascinated by the Cullens, of course. That's a fundamental constant.

 Except here, Bella's not infatuated, or obsessed-- or, at least, not in a "love at first sight" sort of way.

No, here, Bella still sees the predatory gleam in the Cullen's eyes, and their ethereal beauty. But instead of growing warily curious, she instead feels a pang of homesickness, and resolves to befriend them. [That blonde in particular really reminds her of Jessica Simmons in fifth grade, back before she forgot to check her harness when their Girl Scout troop was earning their Paragliding and Divebombing patches.]

 That Edward guy was more of an afterthought than anything else, actually. Though it was also a new record, too: not even five minutes and he hated her guts, when her personal best was four hours and thirty-seven minutes for a budding blood feud.

 The Cullens, meanwhile, don't know what to think of this new arrival.

 Bella Swan had, in the span of five school days, gone from "flavor of the week" to "what the fuck is she on, or is she just trolling?" with alarming speed.

 Her father had made it well known she had an eccentric sense of humor, but that still didn't quite prepare everyone for her incredible deadpan, or her reactions to the most random things. [Like her incredulity about wheat-based products: what kind of weird diet was she on?]

They’re seeing this eccentric newcomer who smells of sand and mesquite and desert wind [though Edward doesn't know why it's so enticing to him], and are even more confused. Because of their enhanced senses, they can tell Bella's confusion is genuine, and why was she so terrified when Valentine's Day was brought up?

Alice's the one that puts them on alert: trying to see Bella's future gives her a migraine, and flashes of something great and terrible that she can't quantify, a black abyss and yet not and what was she?!

 So, of course, Jasper's equally alarmed, because for something to unnerve his was-committed-to-an-asylum-as-a-human girlfriend…plus her emotions when someone talked about Homecoming should not have been that extreme... 

Edward's fascinated, but also questions his self-control as time passes and Bella's slowly smelling less and less like her former hometown, and more and more appealing to him. On the plus side, at least she's not…overly interested in him? She doesn't smell like it, at least. Huh. [That he can't read her mind is but secondary, at this point.]

Rosalind is so, very befuddled with Bella's fearlessness: she's tried to scare her away, but each time she tries, Bella just springs up and mentions something about scouts and patches and what the hell?!

Emmett's the one in the parking lot, when the accident nearly happens. He's very amused by it all, and has a running bet as to why this new chick's gravitating towards them so much, when he sees Edward gear up to save— holy shit did the new girl just backflip away from the SUV? She did. And talked about summer reading programs being good practice. [What even.]

 Carlisle's also highly interested in the mystery that is Bella Swan. Even ignoring what his family's been saying, he took her vitals after the almost-accident, and the machine broke. Or, at least, that's the only logical explanation as to why the readouts say her blood's irradiated AND poisonous, and carrying trace elements of...something he'd never seen before. [Bella, meanwhile, thinks the orange juice just doesn't taste the same. What was this sugary swill? Orange juice was supposed to be imaginary, with an acrid tang and a sharp aftertaste. Forks was so weird.]

 The Port Angeles thing had Edward very confused, because the would-be rapists' thoughts went from 'easy target' to 'WHERE THE HELL DID SHE GET THAT MACHETE FROM?!' and 'am I seeing things, or is she really throwing textbooks with a slingshot?!' with almost-alarming speed.

And when he pulled up, he couldn’t see it, nor where she could even make that fit.

Huh.

 Bella and the Cullens become friends, and when the vampire thing comes up, she doesn't so much as bat an eye.

 "Hey, Old Woman Josie's got a houseful of Angels. Even if the hierarchy's classified by the City Council. Not to mention Hiram McDaniels, he's literally a five-headed dragon. At least you're not from Desert Bluffs, right?"

 …that's a new one.

Bella's more than happy to answer their questions, too, and that's how the Cullens learn that somehow her cooking was bad enough to get her banned from Desert Bluffs [though why that last one was said with a distinct note of pride, they still didn't quite get].

Her questions, in turn, aren't quite like the ones they'd answered in the past. Carlisle doesn't want to know where Bella got the term Lizard Kings from, or why she thinks he knows where Franchia is [which…what?], or…the list goes on.

Overall, Bella's slightly strange, but perfectly friendly.

[Alice has yet to decide what she makes of Bella's talks about the Monolith, though.]

Edward is actually getting slightly interested in her, but Bella doesn’t exactly have romance at the forefront; she's more than happy to talk about her efforts in helping Night Vale's local Children's Militia[?! Wow was the town creative with names], though, and the first time she touched an oven in their household was  also the last. [How the hell she'd managed to recreate Greek fire was something to ask at a later date.]

 Plus, her strange smell wasn't the least of it, not after what Carlisle had ascertained. Bella's apparent confusion about regrowing appendages aside, turns out her inoculations included stuff for 'Blood-Space War botulism' and 'Librarian-based diphtheria' as well as the usual chicken pox and tetanus.

  Time passes, and things are going well.

 Sure, she smells slightly weird as time goes by, but that's probably because of her unique upbringing, plus it's a gradual thing so the Cullens get used to it fairly easily. Even if the scent of something scorching was slightly off-putting, but then, there was a reason nobody let Bella cook.

Bella's pretty weird, but she's also pretty cool, so it balances out in the end.

Some things just get lost in translation, though. Even now.

The baseball game was…interesting.

Bella's comments about Night Vale's annual Sheriff's Secret Police vs. Firefighters game left everyone looking at her in horror, but it was the nonchalance with which she caught the 120 miles-per-hour baseball that let her into the game.

When the new vampires rock up…hmm. I can't decide.

 Option A: 

Bella smelled not only of mesquite and desert wind, but also an underlying tang of something Other, something not of this world. She was the only one alive to have earned the Blood-Space War patch in her troop, and when they tried to attack she smiled and let the tang of dark magic sear the air warningly.

Option B:

Bella smelled of something Other, and since these newcomers hadn't been there when her smell had gradually changed, the Cullens are wondering why they're freaking out. 

“She smells of monster!"

"What the hell are you talking about?”

Option C:  

She smells more like a local than not; a year out of Night Vale, in a rainy place, meant its distinct aroma had gradually faded. They try to attack, and Bella's ready to go to bat, but no dice.

“I could've taken them!" She mutters petulantly. Bah. Overprotective vampires. Just when she'd been having fun, too.

They're insistent that she flee. Eh, it's been a while, might as well check up on how Renee’s been doing, or if they managed to evict StrexCorp. It's adorable how Edward's so concerned for her health, but really.   

 Their first hint Something's Up is when she pulls out the bloodstone circles.

Specifically, "What the hell are bloodstone circles."

Bella returns to her hometown, at the Cullen's insistence, she might add. It's been a while, and… oh, shit.

"What's the big deal about—mmph!" Edward manages before Bella claps a hand over his mouth.

“Watch your words, it's Street Cleaning Day tomorrow! C'mon, I think I remember a bunker we can hide out in."

"What."

They glimpse the vampires trying to get to them, but then…

"Fuck it, time for the big guns. Let's go the library."

"What."

"Bring a machete, orange juice, and I hope you remember at least some Jane Austen, it might very well save our lives Mr. I Lived A Hundred Years." 

 "What?!" 

 "We have no time, just run!"

Hiding out by the Dog Park is also an acceptable one; the scent means the poor fools try to take on the Hooded Figures, which yeah.

After a crash course as to everything Night Vale, Bella's slightly reluctant to go back to Forks, meanwhile Edward's more than a little freaked out, while the rest of the Cullens are in no better shape. The trip back is in almost complete silence. Bella's asleep, because the library always required a lot of energy, meanwhile the rest of the car's eying her a lot more warily than a few days ago.

She's nursing a sprained wrist from staving off a Librarian, a broken leg from landing the wrong way after sticking an illegal pen on one vampire and a loaf of bread on the other [and thus siccing the Sheriff's Secret Police on both], and a concussion on top of that. Still intimidating anyway; just where had that assault rifle even come from?!

Ah, the joys of having earned her Concealed Weaponry patch during seventh grade…

And that's the end of the events of Twilight.

During New Moon, Bella's not desperately seeking death once the Cullens go MIA.

Either she goes 'welp, getting kind of bored here, oh hey, Jacob! Want to cliff dive?...okay this is actually kind of tame, but at least I'm not as homesick now, thanks!'

Or, she'd go 'my only friends are gone, StrexCorp fucked off from Night Vale, screw it I'm coming home'.

If she were to meet the Volturi, she'd immediately light up and go 'oh hey do you have any relation to the Large Brotherhood of the Small Chamber? Or Night Vale's City Council?' which, in turn, would cause some…interesting reactions. [A facepalm here, a 'oh god I thought we were done with you guys' groan from there, etc. The Cullens are both curious but also don't want to know.]

At some point, an ancient vampire shows up, and Bella’s practicing her Unmodified Sumerian and ignoring everyone’s stares when they realize it’s the human who’s just blasé and talking to this guy in his mother tongue. She’s not fluent, but it’s enough. 

 Where did this idea even come from? Who knows? [Dammit brain]

[the-world-of-orion]

5 Secrets of Restaurant Salads

Some of the most important questions I have been posed by friends and family since I became a chef is 'how restaurants make     taste so nice.' It might be fish, meat, vegetables, sauces, cake, or salad in this scenario. Don't get me wrong yet-in terms of flavor, restaurant salads can be infamous for being hit or skipped. Yet when it's a winner they're a winner. Eating healthy salad at a restaurant much like a decent steak leaves you wondering,' how did they achieve this?And' why can't I create this kind of salad at home?'.  Have a look at steak restaurant to get more info on this.

There are a variety of explanations why restaurant salads are perfect. Not all restaurants use either strategy when preparing their salad, but every mixture would make a perfect salad. So you can get a four-star appetizer when you add all five.

1-Restaurants May Create Their Own Vinaigrettes and Dressings The first hidden restaurant salad is that they can create their own dressings or vinaigrettes. A hallmark of a restaurant of good quality is one that produces its own dressings in house. Creating dressings, when it comes to the taste of a salad, provides total culinary flexibility and contributes to the incredible flavor you will encounter. It's shockingly quick to create vinaigrettes and dressings too.

I remember working in the restaurant nights where I would have to make personalized vinaigrettes on the spot for VIP clients, that is, in less than 3 minutes. I will emerge with 90 seconds to spare after a short trip downstairs to our dry goods storeroom, and still have enough time to cook up something delicious. Knowing how simple it is to produce your own vinaigrettes, when I hear a restaurant purchase them from a food manufacturer it still shocks me. Creating your own vinaigrettes and dressings will allow you to improve your salad flavor and be imaginative with the flavours.

2–Restaurants Season Their Dressings The second salad hidden restaurant might not be welcoming news to the health-conscious consumer, but it's true: a properly prepared house vinaigrette or dressing should come with ample salt and pepper support. You might say, "salt in a salad? Actually?'. Yeah, definitely.

Dressings and vinaigrettes can taste fine whether a) they are produced with better products, b) they are produced with the correct proportion of products and c) they are seasoned properly. Unless that were real, restaurant salads wouldn't taste so good. You would be able to have a decent dressing for yourself, and yet like what you cook. At the restaurant, we used to make a champagne vinaigrette that you could consume by the spoonful-it was just that sweet.

With a store-bought brand you might also do this at home. The next time you try to make a meal, avoid the dressing and sample it. Is it fuckin'? Perhaps it could use some seasoning? If so, take it in a bowl and season it with a slight quantity of salt, pepper and lemon juice. Throw the salad and try-you should instantly note the difference. Even if you're new to seasoning salad dressing, just wait-it's getting weirder.

3–Restaurants Season Their Salads Salad The third hidden restaurant salad is that certain restaurants would really savor their salad greens. Yeah, you heard it correctly. Salad greens seasoning is not a commonly employed method but it is used in high-end restaurants to bring out the greens ' own taste. Now don't worry for the health-conscious out there: we are thinking only a very tiny quantity of salt. Yet this tiny quantity of salt is adequate to significantly improve the taste of the salad leaves. The next time you go to prepare a meal, consider applying a touch of salt to the greens before incorporating the sauce or vinaigrette. Instead apply the sauce, and throw it. You'll feel the difference for sure.

[titleknown]

Fictional Products II: Dryguarde’s Ice Cream Truck In A Box

Yes, we’re doing one of these again, though this time it’s a bit different! This time, it involves one product that is actually multiple products!

The Ice Cream Truck In A Box was the result of a confluence of factors thanks to the machinations of one Sullivan Straub. Straub was the CEO of the Dryguarde Ice Cream Company

He’d been involved as a designer for many years and was only appointed as an emergency measure, thanks to the disastrous previous secretly-criminal CEO getting caught using the business as his personal money-laundering ring as he had his others, in a tale too sordid to tell right now, leaving them with quite a few burdens that the previous CEO had acquired as a means of further .

They had deals with a bunch of obscure foreign firms to distribute their products; far too many to effectively market/compete for shelf space, had bought up a previously competitive rival that was now a shambles due to mismanagement before they’d bought it, having produced legions of flops, and there was their own legion of flops produced more to keep funneling money through than to actually sell.

It’s said that Straub came up with the idea for fixing all of this one sunny day while an ice cream truck was rolling down the block. He went to get some, but he’d found out that they’d stocked it with all their old flavors due to how much they were clogging up store shelves and needed to find some way to get rid of them, and he saw the kids.

Though, really, he says that idea happened several eyars before he’d entered the position, but it had been bouncing around in his head for a whilte  bouncing around in his head for a while, and now he wanted to apply it to solve his troubles...

He marketed all these brands in one, high-profile package, a box shaped like an Ice Cream Truck with randomly-inserted ice creams and put out a marketing blitz for it, under the idea of “Now you don't have to chase the truck anymore!”. Though the advertizing, which featured bitter; out of work ice cream men lamenting how they couldn't compete with the Truck and their (ineffectual) attempts to sabotage it, rankled some of their distributors, it was a hit!

While the fact that it was relatively underpriced compared to other ice-cream products thanks to the bulk selection, it helped that they'd had a boost in the form of a very prominent stand-up comedian of the time use it as the centerpiece of an act. Granted, that act was mainly “What in god's name is this bullshit?!” at some of the odder flavors, but publicity is publicity, and it ended up working to their advantage!

And so, it ended up as their flagship product, able to keep them afloat for years while they slowly climbed their way back up; even allowing to test some of their newer flavors that became hits. While there's enough flavors for a second post; not even counting the recent test-marketed revival(s), here's a few of the more notable ones:

Fatty Boy P- The lasting evidence of the previous CEO's dickery, being an equivalent almost to a The Producers-type scheme, this “thick, rich” whitish-pink strawberry-vanilla flavored pop purportedly originally had as its gimmick that it was much thicker and longer than the other brands, the pop looked nothing so much as a penis, and consumers rejected it outright.

The truck, however, did give it a second chance at life, given that people began to realize the taste was actually really delicious, and there was even a second attempt at marketing it outside the truck (Though that failed)

Squash Soda: An attempt at translating the soda flavoring by the Breulen Brothers to sherbert, in the form of a flavorless ice-slurry where kids applied their own flavors; it did not do well due to the relative obscurity of the tie-in and the fact that the flavors often were somewhat off due to production difficulties.

To cut costs, they used generic soda syrup instead of the elaborate flavor-compounds the Breulens' made for the versions produced for the Truck, but this actually worked far better taste-wise than the originals; even the Breulens agreed.

Hell Appels- A Japanese brand thought previously un-distributable in the US thanks to the Satanic imagery in its design, albeit bizarre and abstract in its usage, the gimmick was it was an apple-flavored popsicle shaped like a golden-colored apple, and at the center there was a rolled-up comic, a small plastic scroll with a comic printed on it ala a somewhat larger Bazooka Joe comic with demons, which resembled nothing so much as a short-length bizarro-world bizarrely violent satanic Chick-tract in aesthetics and tone, albeit replacing fundamentalist christianity with anime insanity, usually untranslated in US releases which actually didn't end up making them much more nonsensical than they already were

The comics have ended up as cult classics, though they actually came from a pre-existing work and their story is much longer and much weirder in Japan than in the US, and there's a nice book you can find on the history thereof on AliExpress, if you know where to look.

Blackheads- Always really considered duds, these were small packages of Mochi with a lemon ice-cream center and a black licquorich “cap” on the top, meant to resemble a zit as a part of the gross-out craze of when it was produced. The public then demonstrated that it did have its limits there and even kids did not want to eat the pus of a zit, though, the frankly disgusting mascot design didn't help matters, along with the relatively mediocre taste. Even amongst fans of The Truck, this flavor was quite notoriously a dud, and you never wanted to see a Truck with a bunch of them in there.

Redd Skeletons- Named after the comedian but with a slight naming-tweak, these were still sued out of existence by the man himself over trademark law; only saved by the fact that the Truck's peculiar identity allowed them to get around it, these were relatively simple, vanilla ice cream dyed red between two layers of red velvet-cake flavored cookie, in the shape of a skull.

Simple, disticntive, and what immediately came to mind for most people when you mentioned The Truck.

Beef Roast- A very old brand, as evidenced by the bizarre name, this was simply a very rich “rolled” looking chocolate pop fortified with various “nutrients” and having a hint of odd umami taste, which had its fans but also had its not-fond-of-at-alls.

Spokas- Of course, nobody would defend this flavor, a Mexico-originating chile-flavored thing with a cartoon ghost mascot; despised even in its own country, with a taste that was not only unpleasantly dissonant but also always tasted weirdly like it was contaminated with something even though no tests ever showed it.

Kids always learned to fear “The Ghost,” as it was nicknamed, and reportedly even in its home country it was loathed; only staying afloat thanks to some apparently shady dealings by the proprietor.

Do-Nutz- A flavor that bombed the first time thanks to the deeply unpleasant mascot, who has been described as “sounding like he's coming on to you even when he's not,” the flavor is considered one of the best, something like an ice cream sandwich but with doughnut material; with there being glazed doughnut and cake doughnut varieities, in place of the usual cookie and a flavor combination that most folks say hasn't been replicated ever.

There are many more where that came from, but then that leaves one to ask, what happened to a product that was so popular it even acquired the common nickname of simply “The Truck” in casual conversation?

Simply put, it outlived its use. Despite consistently high sales, the varieties of ice cream they could find to acquire cheaply to put in The Truck was dwindling; people were tiring of the usual flavors; and there's only so many things you can test market through such a thing. And, by the time it became unprofitable to maintain it? They had other, better products, and its creator was long gone from the company by then.

So, they axed it. There were a few test-marketed attempts at bringing it back, but they were deemed either unprofitable or met with lukewarm consumer response. Though, Mr Straub has made waves with a few indications at his new company, there may be a true successor coming, simply known by that old nickname The Truck...

Thank you all so much for reading, apologies for being late! Fun fact, this choice of topic for this week was chosen by my five-dollar backers answering a poll on my Patreon!

So if you wanna get involved in producing these too, feel free to join, where you can get previews, polls, and even commission-y work at the higher tiers!

Every dollar counts, and I appreciate even the smallest donations, so thank you either way!

And, as per usual, feel free to use this fictional product and its history however you’d like, as long as you credit me, Thomas F. Johnson, somewhere as its creator somewhere when ya do!

[insanemoonfish]

(tag) Wait, these are actually hella cute questions

1. Who was the last person you held hands with? ...I don't remember. I don't think I've ever held someone's hands for more than two seconds.

2. Are you outgoing or shy? Definitely shy. I wouldn't mind being reserved if I wasn't so damn awkward sometimes.

3. Who are you looking forward to seeing? Nobody in particular. Maybe a future friend?

4. Are you easy to get along with? I think I am, and I try to be, but it's hard for me to get close to people.

5. If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? I don't like anyone at the moment, and if I did I can only hope they would. I'm apparently not a good judge of character. *sprinkles salt*

6. What kind of people are you attracted to? Genuinely nice and intelligent people.

7. Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? I surely won’t.

8. Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? The first to come to mind is one of my male childhood friends.

9. Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? Not if it isn't about me, about someone I know or about something particularly gross.

10. Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Can't remember. Such conversations rarely happen.

11. What does the most recent text that you sent say? Do I really have to go check...

12. What are your 5 4 favorite songs right now? Not exactly favorites of right now as some I rarely listen to anymore. More like favorites of all time. M2U - gravity Rebecca Sugar - love like you Coldplay - every teardrop is a waterfall + a piano lullaby called Snow Heart.

13. Do you like it when people play with your hair? Hmm, I wonder. Some people did that to me a couple of times, but briefly because it was more out of curiosity than affection.

14. Do you believe in luck and miracles? No.

15. What good thing happened this summer? Good and bad things happen all the time. Not avoiding the question at all...

16. Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? No.

17. Do you think there is life on other planets? I believe not (damn you Fermi), but... logically... there should be? I hope there is.

18. Do you still talk to your first crush? I cut ties with them because I couldn't handle my emotions, simply put. Childish, I know, but it turned out for the best. They talk to me once in a blue moon these days, but we keep our distance.

19. Do you like bubble baths? I don't think I've ever got one but I'd love to.

20. Do you like your neighbors? Yes, they're quiet and keep to themselves. That's all I want them to be.

21. What are you bad habits? Biting my nails, overthinking, both overestimating and underestimating myself, sighing, misunderstanding or/and neglecting people, I could go on.

22. Where would you like to travel? Take me to the beach, please. Or to an amusement park.

23. Do you have trust issues? Trust Issues? Yes, that's me. Nice to meet you.

24. Favorite part of your daily routine? Going to bed, lol. Seriously though, just going to bed and indulging in that delicious false sense of security under the mattresses. Maybe read a bit on my phone. Forgetting time exists, not having to worry about a thing until I wake up...

25. What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My face. I think it looks perfectly fine, but it's a face I somehow don't identify with. I know that's weird - maybe I'm just not attached to it? Also, my expression awareness seems to be poor. People asked before what I'm happy about when I'm sad and vice-versa.

26. What do you do when you wake up? Remind myself of why I should get out of bed.

27. Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? I wish I was less pale so people wouldn’t think I’m a vampire.

28. Who are you most comfortable around? My sister, because she manages to be even weirder than me.

29. Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? No.

30. Do you ever want to get married? I'd like to, but I doubt it'll ever happen.

31. Is your hair long enough for a ponytail? Yes, my hair's quite long.

32. Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? No threesomes for me, please. And I can't even name a celebrity from memory.

33. Spell your name with your chin. kikxdcklx... I hope you're happy.

34. Do you play sports? What sports? Nope. I like to swim though.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music? If you mean literal TV and not anything video related, this question is ridiculous. I'll take the music.

36. Have you ever liked someone and never told them? Only one person. I had my reasons, okay?

37. What do you say during awkward silences? It's an awkward silence, so I say nothing. It's an endurance test my listener has to pass... Jk. I point out something hopefully interesting around us.

38. Describe your dream girl/guy? Similar to that 'what turns you on' question. I'm not picky. If someone's truly trying their best to be a good person, they’ve already won me over, unless they have some serious character flaw.

39. What are your favorite stores to shop in? Big stores that have a lot of everything and impersonal customer service.

40. What do you want to do after high school? I'm currently studying Biomedicine in college. I want to get into Biotechnology but I have to study math and chemistry on my own first.

41. Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I don't know. I'm inclined to say no, that the past repeats itself, but I have no evidence to the contrary. I think it's safe to say that not everyone, in the sense that their doing may have been too vile to be allowed repetition.

42. If you're being extremely quiet what does it mean? That I’m distracted, probably, though I could also be either comfortable or uncomfortable (how paradoxical!).

43. Do you smile at strangers? ...Sometimes. I wish I could keep a poker face at all times. It's easy to get a smile or scowl out of me.

44. Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Both would be amazing, but since the prospect of swimming around God knows what terrifies me, I'll take the space trip. For the no-gravity time, too.

45. What makes you get out of bed in the morning? Vague hope...

46. What are you paranoid about? People's intentions...

47. Have you ever been high? No, but I wish I knew what it feels like.

48. Have you ever been drunk? Not by much. I dislike the taste of alcohol and I suspect I'd dislike the consequences of over-drinking even more.

49. Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? Not really? Though, to be frank, I hope nobody knows almost nothing of anything I do. I value my privacy.

50. What was the color of the last hoodie you wore? Plain black.

51. Ever wished you were someone else? Is there anyone rich and healthy around so I can steal their soul?

52. One thing you wish you could change about yourself? Hard question. We're talking about magic here, right? I'd like to magically be more knowledgeable. Omniscient if possible.

53. Favorite makeup brand? I spend almost nothing on makeup, so guess.

54. Favorite store? I have a cloth store in mind, but it's not that great.

55. Favorite blog? Maybe Wait But Why.

56. Favorite color? Blue, pink, gold, black and white.

57. Favorite food? Salmon sushi.

58. Last thing you ate? Instant ramen. I was craving it, okay? Leave me be.

59. First thing you ate this morning? Instant ramen. *hides*

60. Ever won a competition? For what? Chess and illustration when I was younger. They were just silly school competitions, though.

61. Been suspended/expelled? For what? I can't say I was the most obedient or diligent student in middle and high school, but I never came close to being suspended… I think.

62. Been arrested? For what? Woah. Let's not.

63. Ever been in love? Probably not.

64. Tell us the story of your first kiss? Well... Someone tricked me into doing it. I didn't really know what I was doing.

65. Are you hungry right now? Not much.

66. Do you like your Tumblr friends more than your real friends? They're all real and thus have the same value to me.

67. Facebook or Twitter? I don't use Twitter.

68. Twitter or Tumblr? I don't use Twitter.

69. Are you watching TV right now? Nope, not even listening to music.

70. Names of your best friends? I'd rather not without their permission, and I don’t plan on asking, so...

71. Craving something? What? Sushi...

72. What color are your towels? White. I hate colored towels, it’s hard to see if they’re wet or dirty.

72. How many pillows do you sleep with? One thin one.

73. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No. I love plushies, it’s unfortunate I’m allergic to dust (and too lazy to wash them every week).

74. How many stuffed animals do you think you have? I donated all the ones I had as a child.

75. Favorite animal? Arctic foxes, aka the cutest creatures alive.

76. What color is your underwear? Lol! Black.

77. Chocolate or Vanilla? Chocolate all the way.

78. Favorite ice cream flavor? Chocolate/hazelnut, bubblegum, and mint.

79. What color shirt are you wearing? Dark gray pajamas.

80. What color pants? Dark gray sweatpants.

81. Favorite TV show? I have only seriously watched The Big Bang Theory, Steven's Universe and House for now. Oh and Cosmos!

82. Favorite movie? Can't choose. Maybe that version of Frankenstein that came out in 2015. I really liked that movie for some reason.

83. Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Uh.

84. Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? Uh.

85. Favorite character from Mean Girls? Uh.

86. Favorite character from Finding Nemo? Uh... I don't know.

87. First person you talked to today? My sister.

88. Last person you talked to today? That's impossible to answer right now.

89. Name a person you hate? Nope...

90. Name a person you love? My best friend.

91. Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? Yes, haha.

92. In a fight with someone? Yep.

93. How many sweatpants do you have? Three.

94. How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Four or five. I love sweaters and hoodies, I don't have enough of them.

95. Last movie you watched? Can't remember.

96. Favorite actress? Don't care about that.

97. Favorite actor? Don't care about that.

98. Do you tan a lot? I stay in the sun quite often but my skin burns instead.

99. Have any pets? Two cats and one dog, all adopted.

100. How are you feeling? Oh, we don't ask that question around here. Please don't ask. Lol, jokes aside... I'm fine right now, but I'm also always worrying about, um, everything? Like, is there any way to really cope with life? As far as I know I'm a meaningless existence doomed to disappear ignorant of everything. I don't know how I should feel and the only thing that brings me comfort is believing nothing truly matters. Still, I’m working hard in the case there’s hope for us…

101. Do you type fast? Yes.

102. Do you regret anything from your past? Yes.

103. Can you spell well? If I am calm and think before speaking. Otherwise I'm as eloquent as an excited ten-year-old.

104. Do you miss anyone from your past? I miss how some people were back then, and my friendship with some others.

105. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes, it's great.

106. Ever broken someone’s heart? I doubt it.

107. Have you ever been on a horse? Yes, my parents took me to ride some a couple of times.

108. What should you be doing? You got me! I should be studying.

109. Is something irritating you right now? Yes. I'm expecting a friend today, and her approaching visit time is making me nervous... I can't focus until she's here - actually, I'll be like this until she leaves.

110. Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? It hurts? How exactly? Even if they reciprocate your feelings? Now that I understand the question, yes. Isn’t it interesting how your mind can make your body hurt? In those times somehow my throat aches more than my heart.

111. Do you have trust issues? This question again?

112. Who was the last person you cried in front of? My mother. I broke down in the car after something really bad happened. It was a terrible year, I was dealing with suicidal thoughts, mild chronic pain, isolation, social anxiety, violent nightmares, and depression. And despite trying to stop crying immediately she told me to shut up! I'll never understand why she was that insensible. Maybe she was ignorant of my problems in a way I can't fathom because they were so obvious.

113. What was your childhood nickname? Isa, a short version of my first name.

114. Have you ever been out of your province/state? I once traveled to a different state when I was 6.

115. Do you play the Wii? I would if I had one.

116. Are you listening to music right now? No.

117. Do you like chicken noodle soup? No.

118. Do you like Chinese food? No.

119. Favorite book? Oh, this I definitely can't choose!

120. Are you afraid of the dark? Only in rational cases like walking by possibly dangerous streets. I actually find dark places comforting.

121. Are you mean? I try not to be.

122. Is cheating ever okay? I don't see how it could be.

123. Can you keep white shoes clean? Not in the least.

124. Do you believe in love at first sight? Only in attraction at first sight.

125. Do you believe in true love? I do. True, not selfless and/or unconditional love, okay? That'd be quite inhuman.

126. Are you currently bored? No, this is entertaining.

127. What makes you happy? Serotonin.

128. Would you change your name? I wouldn't care to change it.

129. What your zodiac sign? Leo.

130. Do you like the subway? When it's mostly empty, yes. It's pretty.

131. Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? Screams internally as they'll probably rather leave me than return to the friend zone.

132. Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? Didn't I already answer that?

133. Favorite lyrics right now? M2U - Gravity

134. Can you count to one million? Maybe in hell, that’d be a fitting task for such place.

135. Dumbest lie you ever told? I've always been a terrible liar. Once as a child, I told an obvious, cringe-worthy lie to my teacher thinking I was totally fooling her, don't recall what about. Good thing I at least noticed when she clearly didn't fall for it.

136. Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? Closed.

137. How tall are you? ~1.60 cm.

138. Curly or straight hair? I love curly, messy and/or fluffy hair, but mine's straight.

139. Brunette or blonde? Brunette.

140. Summer or winter? Summer! I can't deal with this cold!

141. Night or day? Night at home, day outside. I have a love-hate relationship with daytime... Sometimes daylight makes me feel wonderful and energized and other times the brightness deeply irritates me.

142. Favorite month? November. I just like how it sounds, lol.

143. Are you a vegetarian? No.

144. Dark, milk or white chocolate? Dark.

145. Tea or Coffee? Coffee, but only with milk.

146. Was today a good day? Yes! Though today just started.

147. Mars or Snickers? Neither?

148. What’s your favorite quote? Quotes!! I have a small collection of them that I love so much I made a post about it.

149. Do you believe in ghosts? No.

150. Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? Yes, finally, I'll know the answer to Everything! *leaves in search of a book* I got a dictionary. High-contrast (alto-contraste; I'll translate): technique or process to eliminate, totally or partially, the middle tones in a photo or stamp.

[the-nostalgic-sentimentalist]

1813 km down Memory Lane

 Last month, I travelled down south to attend the reunion of people who have received the MRN scholarship since its inception 10 years ago.  I had missed every single one of the reunions ever since because, well, I was living in self-inflicted exile. But this year, this year I was going to attend and so I took my girlfriend up on her insanely kind offer and borrowed her car. 

Travelling down south is not only a huge leap geographically (750km, give or take), it is also always a journey into my past. It’s like slipping inside the cocoon of my own self and inspecting the stages of how I became who I am today.

It’s a trip down Memory Lane of epic proportions because everything feels viscerally familiar while at the same time demanding enormous attention and energy. I don’t speak the language fluently anymore, but I will be damned before I admit it. I don’t really know my way around and need to rely on GoogleMaps so much, my data is used up before I get back home. 

None of the people from my generation are there, I mingle with people who are younger than my sister. It is bizarre. The organisers give little speeches at the opening, including the Head of Corporate Social Responsibility MEE for SAP who instantly remembers me when my name is mentioned. “Bundeskanzlerin” she yells excitedly. Referring to my adolescent desire to become chancellor of Germany once I grew up. I would settle for a job in the Ministry for the Environment, to be honest. Growing up makes you so much more practically minded. I realised that I stepped into a version of this world, where I am 16 and the people I converse with knew me as the tough, idealistic teenager who had big dreams and big plans and endless energy to pursue them.

I am now 26 and tired. I have lived in three countries, obtained two high school diplomas, followed by two academic titles. I was engaged and then not. I was away and now I am back. I envisioned none of the things my life consists of these days back then when I was asked where I want my life to go and yet, when asked how I am I can only pause for a second and say “I am really, really happy.”

In a way, setting foot into my past, and wandering around this still-life like snapshot of what people remember, what I remember, that I was and wanted to be, it’s sobering. It reminds me that I my plans will never be grander than the reality. That no matter what I desire, wish or fear, reality will always find a way to be weirder, happier, sadder, and more magnificent. 

And then there is Ise, the woman who easily reaches the top five of people who have influenced my life. She single handedly saved my year abroad after a bout of fever ruined my chances at obtaining the scholarship I so desperately needed. I found out later that I had led the ranking all weekend, until a sudden onset of misery pulled me into myself and severely diminished my performance. Ise stepped in and suggested I apply for the scholarship I ended up getting an ungodly portion of - maybe that’s why none of my fellow beneficiaries showed up. 

And with Ise’s presence, I am forced to come face to face with an ugly part of my past self. I never thanked her properly. I let years pass by without adequately thanking her for the enormity of a blessing she had bestowed upon me. I seize the moment and notice with relief that my 26 year old self has gratitude down. She smiles and nods and tells me that she knew I would turn out alright. It means so much I choke up.

Later, after dinner, we go round and a few people brought items that remind them of their year abroad. They introduce themselves and the item and explain what it means. Bracelets, an American Football, traditional clothing of their host country, etc. I brought nothing and escape having to address the group. My year abroad lies 10 years in the past and I only have a few items that hold any significance. Mostly because the souvenirs of that time are baked into my DNA. They have imprinted on who I am as a person and I carry them with me wherever I go. And I speak to an official from the organisation that sent me, and explain to her how the year I spend living with the Staats Family in 2008/2009 still bears on how I live my life every day. It ranges from my obsession with US politics, to my breath-takingly strong desire to have a family one day and be as loving and caring as my host parents had been. That year translates into world view and values, it honed my ability to assess a situation and read a room, it shaped my desire to serve my community because I saw that modelled in an unparalleled manner by my host parents. I will forever see the world differently because of that experience.

Once everyone has finished, the organiser addresses the room again, pivots to me and says “I think you should have the last world.” I feel a brief moment of dread, but my age and the accumulation of experiences has prepared me for this. I stand up and look around the room filled with people I have never met before. 

“Hi, my name is Bärbel, I used to want to become Chancellor of Germany. Now I would happily just work for the Ministry for the Environment. I was a member of the first generation of ambassadors and spent my year abroad in Wisconsin, in 2008/2009 - yes, I am that old.”

I feel almost at ease and continue. 

“That year was a ridiculous privilege for me that would not have been possible without the generous help of the people here and my gratitude has not diminished during this past decade, on the contrary, I feel it growing the deeper the impact of that year sinks into my personality. My American family has this family motto “Bloom where you’re planted“ and it’s a challenge to bring our best selves no matter where we go and what we do. It’s an invitation to make the world kinder wherever we are. I cannot purport that I succeed every day, but it is a magical thing to try again every day. We have been given the chance to expand our world, to add corners to our universe that will forever be sacred to us. It is an intense privilege and we should never squander it. Especially in times when the world seems to be on fire, our experience breathing, tasting, sensing a different air than the one we were born in, makes us excellent at bridging gaps, translating misunderstandings and working toward a more understanding world. Wherever we are. And with that I come to a close and just give you one task - go, and bloom where you’re planted.”

I feel slightly numb, but get validation when the organiser exclaims, “I knew I could trust you with this task.”

I drive back to my uncle and aunt’s place that night and feel elated. Like I peered into an unwritten part of my story knowing it will end well. I feel encouraged because the people who remembered me from back then, seemed pleased to see who I had become. They approved. They felt vindicated. Like their high expectations had been met. I shed a few tears of relief. There is peace that washes over me. I feel both at home and ready to leave. It’s time, I have some blooming to do.