#first time drawing neil with long hair. i am a long haired neil enthusiast

[moonsnqil]

barista neil ☕️

to match barista andrew

[sunnysynthsunshine]

A “Ted Talk”/Analyisis of what it means to be a “Peoples Poet” and why Rik Mayall means so much to me.

It’s like Alice in Wonderland constantly travelling through worlds.

When I enter “the realms” the galaxies I can see in my dreams and music hallucinations.

My childhood is like a cloud sometimes I like a colourful rainbow of positive nostalgic memories, rainy cringe-worthy memories and then there are the thunderstorms that are the memories I don’t want to think about.

I’ve always been fascinated by what I’d see in Films, TV Shows, Musicals, Songs, Video Games and books but not many really connected with me.

I am a complicated person,I can go from being cheerful, relaxed and happy to being dazed and clumsy or cynical or entranced and hyper-fixated to Pessimistic and Cold to Quiet and Timid to Mellow and Loud,my personality is all over the place with fiction I could only partly relate to certain characters or worlds either because we liked a few of the same foods or films or because we simply looked alike, I’ve had my role models,idols and inspirations sure but I didn’t really realise their full importance in my life until recently and while I loved writing about fiction and imagining myself in fiction I would be the person with the quill, not the damsel or leading man.

I’ve always been interested in Media and Theatre but the latter I couldn’t pursue as far as I wanted to,

I’ve had goals and ambitions but they always kept changing in a way some of them are the same they just ended up being expressed in ways I didn’t expect,

Ever since I studied English I’ve been in love with poetry and literature

When I saw him….his voice was familiar it was a sort of high pitched English sounding male voice..sometimes sounding low toned and posh other times not.

As a kid who watched lots of cartoons, films, adverts and public information films I was exposed to lots of familiar sounding voices in characters on silver, big and animated screens

I recall a cartoon I’d sometimes watch about a knight always trying to win over Queen Guinevere, the cartoon was like Shrek because it satirised fairy tale tropes but in the medieval world of King Arthur.

In Between that would be adverts for cleaning products, one with a golden labrador puppy playing with some toilet roll, an animated duck and villains in the Domestos world that would put the villains of Flushed Away to shame.

He was a voice,I didn’t know his name then even though his name was in the credits of the cartoon mentioned prior but there were so many names in my head at the time (Ant and Dec, Spice Girls, Horrid Henry, Shrek, Toy Story etc.) that his name got lost in translation.

Then years later I got interested in film critique and learned about a film,a film that was considered very bad by the American box office about a peter pan esque imaginary friend...it was then that I heard his voice again but I didn’t know at the time that they were the same.

Since I couldn’t form my own opinions much I went by what the critic said and avoided that film afterwards.

I wouldn’t hear his voice again until 6 years later….

By that time I was about to start college, after leaving secondary school, I was in a bit of a dark place,I had been in some drama,and often when I’d see movies I’d remember the panic attacks rather than the movies themselves due to the experience being ruined by idiots making noise and causing all sorts of nonsense.

I could still laugh at times but usually only in a self-deprecating way, I barely left the sofa and just felt like I was drowning in a void of nothingness.

One night changed that, I was about to start college in a few days, I was in the living room with my mother switching channels when on BBC2 there was a special programme on.

Some bloke named Ben Elton was on a podium talking like a university lecturer about the intellectual aspects of the sitcom format of entertainment, while also paying homage to the late great Ronnie Barker a second generation British comedian I adored the work of when I would watch Open All Hours and Porridge.

When near the end of the lecture, Ben mentioned a show, a show I had never heard of before from the 1980s, called The Young Ones and then proceeded to show clips of it, I kept seeing this pigtailed character in a fringe and this orange-haired punk argue and fight only for one of them to give a detailed tantrum about some show called “The Good Life” and the other to fall down the stairs knocking over the bannisters and ranting about some actress named “Felicity Kendall”.

After quickly researching I became intrigued by this show, I had seen the character’s faces before in two places,one was on Amazon while looking for comedy DVD's and on a dodgy “meme” site called Encyclopedia Dramatica which referenced the scene where the orange haired punk loses his head after sticking  it out a train window.

I then looked up the first few episodes and I was hooked, but it wasn’t like other sitcoms where I’d simply laugh at the stupidity of the gags and characters although that was one aspect of it.

The characters felt relatable while it was in the same nihilistic way I saw myself and some of humanity, that’s how I perceived it, at first I didn’t like tantrum throwing Rick I thought he was too whiny at times and I was drawn to Vyvyan and Neil first,Vyvyan because he felt like the side of me that I rarely showed, the side of me that had a dark sense of humour,  had a sort of free-spirited attitude and liked mild,playful slapstick type of violence, I did have a softie side too but I rarely showed my “Vyvyan” side, now though I couldn’t be prouder to show my “ Vyvyan” side I used to dislike it when I’d walk along my school playground only to see random fights breaking out that would block my walkway but on the inside when I’d watch Japanese cartoons I’d laugh at some fight scenes and I realised there was a side of me that did sort of like violence when it would be in a playful context.

After rewatching and rewatching and thinking back….I grew to like the “Rick” character a bit more, I related to his at times timid social awkwardness, his hypocritical attitude and the questioning of his sexuality.

I had then realised….he acted a bit like I how I did back in secondary school,always being overdramatic if I wasn’t quietly timidly working or being cynical, going on about socialism and the importance of it despite hanging out with problematic internet bloggers at the time who was the complete opposite,I would be lowkey interested in poetry and literature and the fact that at the time he hated Thatcher while I despised Theresa May, who was just starting to use her power to control the UK,I vaguely knew who Margaret Thatcher was because I was in a production of Blood Brothers and before we performed the play we had to research the background history of the play’s setting that’s when I found out about the miner strikes and how the way Thatcher was acting was similar to how Teresa was today.

I also kinda had my own gang in my final years of secondary school but we didn’t go anywhere, some of them stayed in touch others just moved on with their lives.

We would play card games, I’d rant about politics and “Tumblr Aesthetics” and sometimes one of my pals would play metal and pop-punk music in the background, we were the cool kids.

I realised I related to both the “Rick” character and the “Vyvyan” character, after months of not writing stories based on the media I liked,I started writing (again) short stories about “The Young Ones” my ideas for episodes if more than 12 episodes were made,how I would interact with the characters if I lived with them or in the stories case the “alternate universe” version of me.

I’d draw them, I’d write about them, I’d think about them when I’d listen to music, but that wasn’t all.

I had started my Performing Arts course and was learning what skills you’d need to be in “Theatre”.

At the same time I was watching a bunch of the other shows the actor who played “Rick” had been in,sometimes I’d realise I had a lot in common with not just “Rick” from The Young Ones but “Richie” from Bottom,”Richie Rich” from Filthy,Rich and Catflap,”Lord Flashheart” from Blackadder and even the horrific  “Alan B’stard” even though I disagreed with tories despite still hanging out with bad internet “skeptic” people and being raised conservative.

For someone who used to be a massive “weeaboo”, I was becoming quite the Britcom enthusiast

Yeah at times I would mimic his and Ade’s character voices,facial expressions and actions but other times I didn’t need to copy him because we already acted similarly and even if we didn’t I’d realise later in life I did have those other traits It just took a long while before I could proudly express them.

In Between Drama class, I had met some new people and if I was having a day where I felt low, I could just put on a show he was in and cheer up.

That was when I realised his voices and the voice from the bad movie about the imaginary friend and the voice from the cartoon and adverts from my childhood were of the same person.

The person I had finally figured out the name of after all those years.

I had fallen in love, the same love I would’ve had for musicians and fictional Japanese cartoon boys I had for him

His charisma, his looks, his characters, his wise words, his personality, his iconic moments, his variety of facial expressions, his creativity, his eclectic work from Sitcoms to Dramas to Theatre to Video Games to Music.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him...at first, I thought it was going to be like all the other “role models” I had….that changed in 2018.

2018 certainly was a year...I went through my first work experience in a local theatre production,I had met more new people some of which I had met because of our love of him and his work,I took up a new course and even when I did my old drama course,I got to write my own monologue for our final play and I had gotten back into the activity I used to only do when I was an “emo”.

“Poetry!”, the art of putting together multiple rhyming sentences that are all relevant to a certain emotion, feeling or topic.

I was always into literature and English but I was more the type to write stories and read poetry not read stories and write poetry.

After having some big life realisations I decided to pour all of that into a big poem in February,some of my friends read it and loved it,this convinced me that not only were these amazing friends that I will love and cherish to this day but that poetry was something that with a bit of work I could be quite good at….

So I wrote and wrote and wrote I got better with each one, my dreams when listening to music got more vivid than before, so vivid they were almost real like I was visiting another universe.

like an out of body extraterrestrial/paranormal experience.

I had finally moved on from my drama of the past, Self Reflected on my actions learning how to change for the better and I took that punk “free-spirit” of mine and learned how to fully express and how to be more accepting of myself and others.

I got into new and old music, tv shows, films and books...but he was still there

As I went through each show or film of his that I hadn’t watched yet, the love just kept blossoming whether I was laughing my arse off or grinning at a relatable moment from one of his interviews.

It was soon Christmas, a few weeks before, my lucid dreams had a new feature,my Wiccan powers of communication with spirits had gotten powerful enough to the point that when I’d listen to some music I’d hear voice waves in between, voice waves of people I looked up to who unfortunately are not physically with us, I recall it was My Generation by The Who that triggered it,that was a song he performed once on the Young Ones live events,I had interacted with the dead in dreams before,but this was different when I had heard his voice in the dreams where I thought of his characters or of himself, the voice would be vague and barely audible, but this time the voice was more clear and natural almost like he was actually talking to me.

Then Christmas happened, it was a mixed day but I got good gifts and I stood up for my political beliefs for the first time.

Some of the gifts were related to him like his book, box sets of some of his work and…...a red hat

A red hat just like the one his young one's character had on.

A took a few photos and loved the way it looked on me with the blazer I had on, a black blazer similar to the blazer he had on the first few episodes of The Young Ones.

In the middle of the night, I got an idea for a poem, I had written a poem about his show before but this poem was different.

It was a tribute a poem dedicated specifically to him, yes it would reference his characters, but the poem was mainly about him, the impact he made the world and how I felt this amazing ethereal, psychological and philosophical connection to him.

The Lord of Misrule, one of the best poems I’ve ever written, the days after I uploaded photos of me in the hat, and almost everyone I knew loved it,even the friends of mine who didn’t know the young ones but knew the name and look because of me loved the hat and pictures of me in the hat.

It was a sign, my lucid dreams got more vivid than ever and his face became more visible. sometimes when I’d dream about him it wouldn’t be the usual dream of me being in the young ones or me filming a comic strip presents episode or me going to a Ziggy Stardust concert with his teenage self,it would be dreams where I’d be travelling through the galaxies only to end in his place,it looked like something out of the grand Budapest hotel with how well it looked with the pastel-toned colours and minimalist decor and there he would be,he wouldn’t always be in a Jesus esque robe like before,he would be chilling on his sofa, looking exactly like how he looked before in the early 2010s, wearing a plain sweater or dressing gown his long grey hair flowing like an angel, waving and sometimes talking with me,it felt more clear than before it was probably a response from all those times before when I was learning how to spiritually communicate where I was usually the one doing most of the talking,

Usually I’d see him as an idol, icon, deity, legend, role model of sorts but now I started seeing him as a mentor and grandpa sort of figure,his mantras stick with me to this day, we have enough in common to be good pals from other dimensions but such a difference in age and living status that he can be a grandpa figure to me,the angel cheering me on before and after an exam,allowing my spirit third eye self to stay over at his place when I’m feeling low and lost, tickling me, offering advice and I love being able to have these abilities, I’ve always loved astrology and anything to do with ufos, magic or “other worlds”.

He is my guide and I am his apprentice, in my poems and philosophy, I say most of us are peoples poets because of our strong free-spirit opinions and attitudes even if we don’t all have a quill to write those opinions with.

But in the context of his young one's character and the traits of his(him and the character) that I already shared and the traits I overtime learned to accept. 

From the poetry to the similar personality and interests to the spiritual connection,

 to the times my friends and comrades had said that “he would be proud, that I even looked like him and I carried his “energy”, one of them referring to me as a “People's Poet”.

I’ve now realised after all these years that I’ve finally found my meaning, to bring Art, peace and love into the world.

When his character gave that speech about his revolutionary life and how the new generation would gather round for their fallen leader only for  a  sensitive and articulate teenager to say “How can he be dead if we have his poems?” (or shows in this context)

I was a sensitive and articulate teenager as we are all.

I am also the next People's Poet

Step aside,  let’s share the rikosophy by carrying on his legacy into the 21st century 🌈🖇🏴⭐🌠

I shall produce art for the world to see, teach them how to see it in new perspectives, and I shall guide us while we try to stop fascism for good,

let’s be free!

you and me!

Thank You, Doctor.Richard Rik, Michael Mayall  you’ve changed my life  

It is an honour to carry on from where you left off, bringing joy back into the world, inspired by your art while creating my own experimental ideas, I know your listening from the heavenly afterlife clouds and all those galaxies beyond.

Now let’s share that wonderful energy in the ruddy 21st century.

While I’m not the man himself Rik Mayall, I just share his energy and personality 

I am Kelsey….and I am bloody brilliant    

[universal-kitty]

“ jealous?! i’m not jealous! “ w/ sal >:3 (shippin-in-the-rain)

misc sentences@shippin-in-the-rain

   When Sal had brought up the idea of a weekend with the crew, he’d expected a lot of things. Ashley to tote around a shitton of art supplies and canvases (she had), Todd to include Neil (which Sal didn’t mind one bit; this wasn’t meant to include spookier affairs), and Larry to drag along a boombox with his sloppily-packed suitcase and plenty of CDs. There was a campsite not too far off they could go to for some light camping and plenty of shenanigans.

   It was especially being done for the purpose of inviting Rachel, however. Everyone has fun, they include them in, and... Maybe they could share a tent...? He knew it was a bold as shit move to make on a crush he wasn’t too certain of (as far as if they liked him back, that is), but it was a risk he was all too willing to take.

   However, when he asked the day of, during school...

   “Oh, Ashley already asked about rooming together,” they said, giving a nervous little laugh and reaching up to play with their hair. “Sorry, Sal...”

   “No! It’s no problem! Ash is cool.” Silently, he cursed himself for not having the foresight to warn the others of his hopeful plans. Though it wasn’t like it ended there...

   At the campsite itself, after setting up the tents for later that night (at the stubborn encouragement of Todd and Neil, who weren’t about to get caught up in “play first, work later”; Ashley and Rachel backed them up, so 4-2), Sal had decided maybe he and his crush could play with the group, then head out for a walk...

   It started with Ash and Rach talking art on the grass. Color theory, their weak points, dreams of improvement... Things like that. Nice to overhear, but politeness said he should wait until a lull or when they were done; then he could ask. Though when Neil asked Sal to help with the campfire prep, he was too willing to help out.

   ...Which led to his current predicament: sourly watching Larry and Rachel talk enthusiastically about video games, music, and their love of casual clothes.

   “You just can’t go wrong with a good t-shirt,” Larry agreed with a nod.

   “That’s what I’ve been trying to say!! T-shirts are for everyone! And the baggy ones are super comfortable... I don’t know how other people live without ‘em. Also. Boot cuff jeans.”

   “They tear at the bottom though, don’t they?”

   “Yeah, but you can’t deny the superior comfort.”

   “Fair.”

   Sal knew he shouldn’t have felt so....grumpy over this. Larry was his brother- step-brother, more accurately- and knew Sal had been in love with Rachel for the better part of...almost a year now. There’s no way his brother would crush-steal. No way.

   ...Didn’t stop his heart from twisting in his chest, however, when Rachel’s head tossed back as they laughed. So joyful and happy... It’s probably a little greedy to want that attention as badly as he does, but... Can anyone really blame him? Especially since all he wanted was to feel a little closer to them. See if maybe...they really liked him at all. Hopefully. Maybe.

   .....This suddenly feels like it was a dumb idea.

   Sal was seconds from dropping his face into the very hands that currently propped his chin up when a movement from the corner of his vision distracted him back into focus, looking to see Ash climbing over to sit next to him. She shot him a little smile, sat down, hands slapping her knees a little...and looked over to Larry and Rachel laughing their lungs out from a joke. It was quiet for a bit, that and Neil and Todd talking about...something Sal couldn’t pick up.

   “Soooo... How’re you doing, Sally Face?”

   “I’m alright, I guess,” he admitted with a casual shrug, eye glancing over at the duo, back to Ashley, then moving his head so he could stare at his lap. Anything but focus on his brother and crush having the time of their lives. Ugh. Being this bitter...it doesn’t feel good on the soul. “Looking forward to the-”

   “Hey, Sal?” He blinked in surprise, words dying on his tongue as he looked back up to Ash. After hearing a noise, she went on, “Are you...jealous?”

   ...His heart dropped into his sneakers.

   “Jealous?! I’m not jealous!” His voice rose, all the louder from under his prosthetic, and winced when he noticed Larry and Rachel looking back to them. Hearing the silence from Todd and Neil...and seeing a knowing, smug sort of look on Ashley’s face. Hmm. Didn’t like seeing that.

   “You suuuurrreee?”

   “Y-Yeah, I am...” Not his most convincing line, but then again, Sal Fisher wasn’t notorious on being a good liar. If anything, he was pretty terrible about it. Something that only shone all the brighter now.

   “Sounds like you are.” He squinted at her, at least glad the prosthetic didn’t give away his pout on his lips. Another glance at Larry and Rachel, who’s conversation had quieted...and he sighed.

   “...Look, fine. Maybe a little bit, but it’s not a big deal! They need friends and I shouldn’t hog their time with you guys, so--”

   “Sal. Say no more.” Ashley held a hand in front of his face, standing up...and whistling? The other two perked up as she called, “Hey, Larry! Walk with me for a bit, yeah?” Larry blinked, but shrugged, getting up and saying goodbye- for the moment- to Rachel. Ash winked at Sal, grabbed Larry by the arm, and dragged him off to a path around the nearby lake.

   ...Well. When life gives you lemons, right?

   “...and you know, I think that’s why I’ve got such...issues,” Rachel mused, watching the clouds while curled up on their side. “You can’t just make your school slogan “Failure Is Not An Option” and then not expect mental harm to come from that. I just hope everyone else I knew from back then got better... Or, well, doing better than I am now, I mean.”

   To say Sal was blown away from where their conversation had gone was- perhaps- an understatement. How did they get from talking about nature to...stuff about life? And mental health? It was mind boggling, but something he appreciated, regardless. Who else could be so scattered with their thoughts that they’d end up here?      (Larry could provide competition, but in the end, would surely be outmatched. Sal was sure of it.)

   “...You okay? Was that...too much?” They laugh, but there’s a nervous edge to it that has him sitting a little straighter, waving his hand in reassurance.

   “N-No! You’re fine. I just... I was thinking about how amazing it is that you do that.”

   “...Do what?”

   “Hop topics so quickly. I started out talking about the nature of this place and now... You’re talking about things from your past that shaped you. I just find that really cool.” A pause, glancing over at them to notice pink beginning to color their cheeks. (Or was that just the sun...?) “It’s...why I enjoy talking to you.”

   “O-Oh! Um... Thanks. I’m glad someone enjoys my nonsense,” Rach said with a soft laugh, looking up at him above their glasses. Could they see him properly, like that? Not that it mattered, really; wearing a prosthetic meant certain things were hard to notice. Like, for example, how hard he was blushing under the mask, wishing for the bold courage to hold their hand. It wouldn’t be hard to do at all...so why did it feel that way?

   “Hey!! Rachel!” The two turned their heads to see Ashley and Larry rejoining the group, Ash looking chipper, but Larry... Sal had a sinking feeling she’d told him Sal’s plans in trying to woo his crush. Something his brother might’ve been better off...not knowing. (Well, as long as Larry didn’t know he’d gotten jealous over him chatting Rachel’s ear off, Sal supposed...) “Larry and I wanna work on some drawing ideas; you cool with staying in Sal’s tent?”

   ..........Actually, take that back. Sal very much wanted to disappear into the earth that he sat on. Dammit. Ashley...

   Glancing down at Rachel, blue eyes met green. Questioning him quietly, like they were trying to ask if he didn’t mind...? Brain functions failing him, all he could do was shrug.

   “Uh... I don’t mind! Long as Sal’s okay with it.”

   “It’s...fine, really. I don’t mind at all,” he said, hoping to the farthest of stars he didn’t sound as breathless as he THOUGHT he did. Ash only grinned, giving them a thumbs up. “Awesome! You two have fun, alright~?”

   His friends were going to be the death of him.

[letmeletmetrashyourlove]

Millie

Summary: Billy finds out that he is having a baby girl.

REQUESTS OPEN      FEEDBACK APPRECIATED

Author’s Note: Killing two birds with one stone with this fic! It was requested, but also for Amanda’s 3,000 follower celebration! Yay Amanda! Love you!

Billy leaned against the doorframe as I stood in front of our daughter. She was sitting on the bathroom counter, playing with my necklace as I tugged her hair up into pigtails on top of her head. Though she had my hair color, she had gotten Billy’s ringlet curls.

        “Alright, silly Millie.” I sighed when I was finished, hoisting her off the counter and into my arms.

Today was her first day of soccer, and she couldn’t be more enthusiastic. Billy, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. Every bump, bruise, and fall she had ever suffered was made worse by his overreaction. She would fall over and be fine until her dad gasped and came flying over to her asking if she was okay.

His panic drove her to cry more often than not. Which is why I was contemplating making him stay home for the duration of soccer practice, knowing he would lose his mind whenever she went down. I passed Millie over to him as I exited the bathroom, he peppered kisses on her cheek, making her squawk.

Billy followed me as I went into her bedroom, pulling out a pair of knee high socks with red bands around the top. I tossed them to him. He struggled to get her feet in them as she kicked fiercely, giggling the whole time.

        “Hey! Save the kicking for practice, will yah?” He exclaimed.

        ��Mmm. No!” She cackled.

He rolled his eyes, flipping her upside down so her feet stuck up in the air,

        “Teamwork!” Billy hollered, holding her legs still while I shoved the socks over her feet.

        “That’s cheating!” Mille protested, crossing her arms as she hung upside down, her pigtails dangling.

He flipped her right side up again, throwing her over his shoulder.

Billy Hargrove had somehow straightened himself out since he was in high school. My suspicion was that it was entirely to do with getting away from Neil. Despite being flat broke, when he turned 18, he moved out and into an apartment down the street from my childhood home. We met when he came to my door when I was home from college on spring break. Without his mullet, he was nearly unrecognizable. If it hadn’t been for his signature smirk, I wouldn’t have known who it was.

        “Oh, hey, Y/N.” He greeted, “Jeez, it’s been a couple years, hasn’t it?”

        “Yeah. It has.” I replied, looking him up and down.

He and I never really got along in school. He relied too heavily on his fists to get his point across, though, despite that, he had never shown an ounce of hostility towards me.

        “So, uh, what brings you here?”

        “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I just…” He wavered, “Saw you and you got me all distracted.”

He blushed, drawing his lip between his teeth. I placed my hands on my hips, recognizing his flirtatious ways.

        “I’ve been taking care of your parent’s lawn for a while. I just wanted to come over and see if they needed help with anything.”

        “Oh, yeah. Uh… Come on in, I’ll go find my mom.” I told him, stepping aside so he could come in.

He studied the walls of the house, tucking his thumbs into his pockets as I trotted to the living room where mom sat with a book in her lap.

        “Hey, mama.” I notified, “Billy’s here.”

        “Oh, Billy!” She beamed, drawing herself from her seat.

She brushed past me, meeting him in the entryway and pulling him into a hug.  I was taken aback by the gesture, especially as Billy gladly returned the hug.  

        “How have you been?” She sought, rubbing her hands up and down his biceps.

        “Good! Good!” He smiled down at her.

        “Got a girlfriend yet?” She asked, making his cheeks go red as he shook his head. Mom motioned over her shoulder to me, making my cheeks turn an equally dark shade of pink.

        “She’s still single, and I want grandbabies.” She whispered, nudging him with her elbow.

        “MOTHER!” I exclaimed.

        “WHAT!?” She retorted, “YOU CAN’T WAIT FOREVER.”

        “I’M ONLY 22!” I shouted back.

        “I was 21 when I had you. Gotta use that uterus while it’s still good.”

        “OKAY, HOW ABOUT WE STOP TALKING ABOUT THE EFFICIENCY OF MY UTERUS IN FRONT OF OUR GUEST?!”

Billy could hardly contain his amusement as he watched my mother and I stare each other down.

        “Well. I don’t have any work for you to do yet. But, I have something to give you.”

She traveled into the kitchen, getting a pan out of the freezer and handing it over to him,

        “Lasagna.” She told him, “I’m tired of seeing those takeout cars going down the street to your place every night. Eat some real food, will ya? I don’t know how you keep your gut with how you’ve been eating.” She jabbed him in the stomach.

Despite our awkward reunion, Billy somehow managed to overlook my mother’s constant talk about grandbabies long enough to ask me out on a date. To say I was reluctant would be an understatement, but the way my mother talked about him persuaded me. She insisted he was hardworking and kind. Told me an adorable story about how he found a bunny nest in the backyard and ended up taking the little creatures to a wildlife rescue.

But when I finally accepted his request, I saw what she was talking about. His rough edges had softened over the years. He even managed to come up with kind things to say about his stepmother and Max.

After I finished college, he proposed to me. And a couple weeks later we found out I was pregnant. Billy went into freak out mode, insisting that he was going to turn out just like his own father. I had to grab him by the face in the middle of him ranting to make him look at me,

        “You are nothing like that bastard, do you understand me?” I hollered, “And if I had even an ounce of doubt about that, I wouldn’t be with you.”

He subdued for the next couple of months, only having another freak out once we figured out the gender. A baby girl.

        “What- What am I supposed to do with a baby girl!?” He roared, pacing back in forth in the nursery, awkwardly stepping around deconstructed furniture.

        “Babe. Chill. It’ll be okay.” I reassured, lounging on the recliner with a bag of bugle chips, supervising while he was supposed to be putting the crib together.

        “No… No, no, no, no.” He stuttered, “Nope. No. I know how girls are, okay. She’s gonna fall in love with some asshole and get her heart broken.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at his outburst, earning me a scowl.

        “Billy, she’s not even as big as a softball yet, and you’re worried about her future boyfriends.”

I didn’t bother to look up at him, placing the chips over the ends of my fingers as he continued to pace around.

        “I’m gonna run that asshole over in my car. Then I’m gonna end up in jail. I’m going to end up in jail and I can’t go to jail, I’m too pretty to go to jail!”

I rolled my eyes, holding my hands up with the bugels on the end and wiggling my fingers,

        “I’ll get you my pretty, and your little dog too.” I cackled, doing my best wicked witch of the west impression.  

        “HOW ARE YOU SO CALM WHEN I’M ABOUT TO GO TO PRISON FOR VEHICULAR MANSLAUGHTER!?”

        “Actually, honey, it would be vehicular homicide, unless you do a good job and make it look like an accident.”

        “I’m gonna go to jail.” He repeated.

I let out a sigh, throwing a bugel at him and hitting him on the cheek,

        “The only person going to jail is me when I murder you for being irrationally worried about this.” I threatened, “And then you’ll be gone and I’ll have a baby in prison. And then she’ll have to go live with my mom.”

        “Oh no.”

        “And you know what my mom is gonna do to her?”

        “Dress her up in those freaky doll outfits.” He gasped.

        “Exactly.”

I pulled him down to sit beside me, resting my head on his shoulder and patting his chest reassuringly.

        “What if she doesn’t like me?” He whispered, scarcely audible.

        “What do you mean ‘if she doesn’t like you’?”

        “I mean… I don’t know… I’m just…” He sputtered, “I don’t know. I’m kind of an asshole.”

        “Yeah. I know you are. And I still let you knock me up.” I replied, finally getting a laugh from him, “She’s gonna love you. I know she is.”

He nodded,

        “Got any name ideas?"  

I shook my head,

        “How about…. Joan? Or Bonnie?”

        “WE ARE NOT NAMING OUR CHILD AFTER JOAN JETT OR BONNIE TYLER!” I screeched.

        “WHO SAID THAT’S WHY I PICKED THOSE NAMES?” He defended with a gasp.

        “Is that why you picked those names?”  

        “Yes.”

        “That’s what I thought.”

        “What about Joni?” He offered, “Combo of Joan and Bonnie.” 

I rolled my eyes, 

        “We’re not naming her after Joni Mitchell either.” 

A few months later, we decided on the name Millicent, after his mom’s mother. And a few months after that, we got to meet Millie for the first time. She instantly took a liking to Billy, for a while him being the only one able to rock her to sleep. Literally. Rock her to sleep. He sang rock songs to her, and the only requirement on the song was that it had to have the word ‘rock’ in it.

        “Here I am, rock you like a hurricane.”

        “I love rock and roll, put another dime in the jukebox baby.”

        “We will, we will rock you.”

        “Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus, Amadeus, oh, oh, oh Amadeus, Come and rock me Amadeus.”

        “I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day. I wanna rock and roll all night and party every day.”

He’d creep out of the room, shutting the door carefully behind him,

        “You know, I really should start recording you when you do that because it’s disgustingly adorable.”

Despite my refusal to name my daughter after Joan Jett, Billy had taught Millie to love her and she now knew the words to most of her songs. They sang it in the car on the way to soccer, her tiny voice standing out against the chorus.

We pulled up to the park, watching other little girls in pigtails clamber out of their cars and run into the field, soccer balls tucked under their arms.

Millie was playing in the youngest league, only being three years old. Billy pulled her out of her car seat and carried her onto the grass. Once we reached the field, she squirmed to be put down. As soon as her cleated feet hit the grass, she took off running to the group of toddlers that was kicking the ball around before practice had even started.

        “She’s too big now.” Billy lamented, coming up behind me and resting his head on my shoulder.

        “Yeah, that’s what happens.” I sighed, watching her make quick friends with a girl who had matching socks with her.

We waved to her as she turned back around, giving us a thumbs up before returning to play. The coach finally rallied all the girls together, which was about as difficult as herding cats. Within a few minutes, she had them kicking the ball up and down the field. Billy had a grin plastered on his face. Until Millie fell, that is. She landed face first in the grass, dirt sticking to her cheeks as she looked up in horror. Billy let out a gasp, attempting to run towards the field. I snagged him by the back of his shirt, preventing him from going any further.

The girl that Millie was playing with earlier ran over to her, helping her to her feet. She brushed the mud off her face before hugging her. Not a single tear was shed on Millie’s part, the first time she’s fallen without Billy there to catch her.

        “See. She’s fine.” I reassured, “She’s a strong girl.”

        “Told you letting her listen to rock music would turn her into a badass.” He smirked.

I gave him a playful smack in the gut,

        “Oh, please. You were closer to crying than she was and you’ve got 23 more years of rock music than her.”

        “I guess she must take after her mama then.”

        “Yeah. Uh-huh. Whatever, you big baby.”

[usagijimin]

Reach For The Sky-Narry

Niall’s spending his summer working for the Space and Rocket Center.

Today Niall is assigned a group of noisy ten-year-olds from the next county over. They're all dressed in the same matching royal blue t-shirts, the ones handed to them when they stepped inside the building, and they've got their names written big in sharpie on small rectangular name tags. From what he's seen of them already they're more enthusiastic than the group of twelve-year-olds he had yesterday, and for that he's thankful. 

He starts by leading them to a shaded patch of grass outside, the same patch he chose yesterday, and the day before that and the day before that. He waits for a minute while they look around and loudly gawk at all the rockets and other various things they've got displayed outside (he'd done the same his first day at the center), before he urges them to settle down in a kind of misshapen circle. 

He clears his throat and smiles wide. "Good morning to you all! I'm Niall and I'll be showing you around the center today. Before we begin, does anyone know anything about the center? It's history? It's purpose?"

The kids stare up at him blankly and he waits only a few seconds before he begins his spiel, before the silence has a chance to stretch out and out. 

He'd applied for summer positions at John F. Kennedy Space Center, Johnson Space Center, and Huntsville Space and Rocket Center as a way of putting his foot in the door so to speak. Huntsville was the only one who'd responded, and even though he would've preferred something at JFK or Johnson, he'd still been happy to pack his bags and make Huntsville his temporary home for the summer. 

He gives them all a general rundown of the early history of the town, "whose main focus used to be cotton," before he moves on to the great Space Race. Every time he brings it up he distinctly remembers underlining that term three times in his notes weeks ago in one of the training seminars as if he didn't already know all about it from a childhood full of watching Apollo 13 on his couch, and begging his dad to go take him to visit John Glenn's hometown. 

Once the history has been established and some of Niall's favorite space fun facts have been shared, they move onto the fun part. The center has several simulators. These are made to help the kids see what it's like in space. 

At lunch they stop at the Mars Grill, the cafeteria in the main building. The kids pull out small ziplock bags of money and fill their trays with food. Harry and his group are already sitting at one of the large red tables. When he sees Niall, his face lights up and he waves. 

Once all the kids have paid, he leads them to Harry's table and takes the empty seat beside him.

"Good morning," Harry says, voice all slow and sweet. 

"It's noon," Niall replies flatly. 

"Well...regardless of that, I still hope you had a good morning."

Today Harry's got his brunette hair all carefully styled off his face, save for this one curl by his ear. Niall imagines leaning forward , reaching out and tucking it behind his ears. It takes a moment for Niall to realize Harry's staring at him, still waiting for a response. He quickly swallows. "I did."

"Good."

Like him, Harry's a college student. A theater major from the University of Alabama back home with his parents for the summer. He's really good with kids, likes to make cringeworthy space related puns, and really likes the series Firefly. And that's really the extent of Niall's Harry knowledge. Yet he always looks forward to lunch with Harry.  

"You know," Harry starts, eyeing the burger in Niall's hand, "you really shouldn't eat burgers every day."

Niall looks him straight in the eye and takes a big bite. "I'm not going to let you shame me into buying a salad. No matter how hard you try. Especially since I know you frequent the dipping dots vending machine." 

"That was one time."

"Three times."

Harry's cheeks turn pink and he spears a piece of lettuce and shoves it in his mouth, quietly mumbling "lies". 

They both know Niall's telling the truth. 

They make small talk for another few minutes before Harry gets up to move on to afternoon activities. Niall lifts his hand to wave him off, but Harry pauses. He chews on his bottom lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Oh no, Niall thinks. He said something wrong. Did something wrong. 

"We should hangout some time. Outside of work I mean."

"I'm free tonight," Niall says without hesitation. Harry immediately relaxes, his lips quirking up in a smile. 

"So am I. Where should we meet up? I'm assuming you don't want to go to my parent's place."

"We can go to mine." 

"Cool. I'll see you when our shift is over."

 "I've got three roommates. Two of them work night shifts, so they won't be around, but we'll just stick to my room if that's okay." Niall pushes his key into the lock and motions for Harry to follow him as he shoulders the door open.

"You can go ahead. My room's the one with the poster on the door." 

Harry gives him a tiny salut and takes off down the hallway.

Niall goes to the kitchen and grabs a roll of paper towels and a few paper towels. 

He finds Harry spread out across his bedspread, his arms tucked behind his head. "This is a nice room you've got here."

"Make some room will you. And most of the stuff's not mine. I'm just subleasing."

Harry sits up and pats the seat next to him. Niall takes it and hands him a plate. They eat their Wendy's in silence. Harry's eyes wander all over his room as he bites into his spicy chicken sandwich and reaches for a Niall's fries like they're his own. Niall wonders what he's thinking. "What is yours?" Harry finally says, breaking the silence.

"The bedspread, the clothes, some of the posters."

He smirks. "Are all the space posters yours?" 

Niall can feel the blood rushing to his face. "Uh...yeah they are." He shoves a handful of fries in his mouth and chews slowly, counts the bites. 

"Don't look so embarrassed. It's not much of a secret. You work at a space center after all."

"Yeah."

"Do you want to work for NASA?" 

"I'd like to. Not sure if it'll actually happen."

"It will. You're a hard worker," Harry replies, voice all confident and matter of fact like he's known Niall for more than a month.

Niall snorts. "How do you know? We only see each other at lunch."

"I saw all the notes you took at seminar and I've seen how organized you are. It's impressive."

"Thanks." Niall smoothes the edge of his comforter with the palm of his hand and then adjusts it.

"Tell me an interesting space fact. Something they didn't teach us in seminar?"

"About what in particular?"

He shrugs. "Anything."

Niall goes with the first thing to pop in his head. "Jupiter has the shortest day of all the planets. It's roughly ten hours long."

"Interesting," is Harry's reply, his ringed fingers (the second they had climbed into Harry's car, Niall had watched as he pulled the rings out of the cup holder and slid them on) tapping against his chin like he's deep in thought. "Don't usually think about how long days last on other planets."

"What about you? What are you going to do with your theater degree?"

"Well, I'm going to move to New York City, live in Central Park, and recite Shakespeare to passing pedestrians."

"Is that right?" Niall says, trying to hide his smile. "You don't strike me as a Shakespearean actor. You look more like the love interest in a rom com."

"Ouch." Harry presses a hand to his chest. "So what you're saying is that I'm only good for my handsome face and my ability to wear cozy looking sweaters?"

"Noooo." Niall feels a bit like a supernova. Like he might just explode.

"Wow. Here I spend all this time memorizing Shakespeare lines only to be passed over because I'm too beautiful."

"Harry-"

Harry closes his eyes and in a booming voice starts proclaiming, "doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move! Doubt-"

"Harry," he tries again, suppressing his laughter with the back of his hand.

"I do make a pretty good Kate Winslet though." Harry falls back against the pillows again, his arms stretched above his head. He fixes Niall with an intense stare. Niall bites at his pinky finger. "Niall, I want you to explore me like I'm a galaxy."

"I'm going to kick you out."

"Rude," Harry chides, popping himself up on his hands. "I'm only demonstrating my acting abilities."

"What is it about theater then? That draws you in?"

"I don't know...I never have a good answer for it. I think it's...um...really nice to be able to make people...feel things. Make them think about things. Nice to sort of forget about yourself and be someone else. What about you? Why space?"

"I've honestly never really sat down and thought about it. The ambitiousness of it I guess. The idea that there's always something new to discover, new to explore." 

Harry nods and then suddenly squints. "Wait, does that say Neil deGrasse Tyson's on the bottom of that poster?"

"Yeah."

"No way! How did you manage that?"

"Met him at a convention. Was pretty fucking awesome." It's still one of his favorite memories.

"You're so lucky."

"What did you want to do? Watch Netflix?"

"Sure."

Niall gets up and turns on the lights. After they've settled down with the laptop balanced on Niall's knee, selected a period drama Harry claims is really good, they fall silent. Niall feels Harry press closer as the film progresses. He sets his hand on top of Niall's. Harry's palm is all sweaty and when Niall looks over at him, Harry's eyes are very firmly fixed on the screen. Niall just squeezes his hand reassuringly and keeps hold of it the entire movie.