#like it takes five fucking minutes to use google pics and find the person who drew this art

[saqimuha]

maybe one day ppl on the internet will learn to respect artists and put credits in their shitty tiktok video (or not even use the art if they don't know the credits)

[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.” 

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Part Three! (Click on each pic for something resembling quality!) 

Part One---contains translations, podfic, and related works---Part Two

Tagging, credit, and transcript all below the cut 💜

First off, people who specifically asked to see more of this nonsense may God in all Her glory bless you accordingly: 

@internet-or-sleep, @just-some-girl-on-the-internet, @readytoocomply, @vocallsama, @fellowshipofthegay, @lucky-leafeon, @alph4centauri, @sumoranges, @diaphanedreams 

Aziraphale’s profile pic is courtesy of good old Neil, found here. All others are from Creative Commons. 

Sorry it took so long to produce more stupidity. YOU ALL ROCK  🎊🎊🎊 Here, have a messy transcript. 

Abdou G. 

Have you ever walked in on a conversation and, despite clearly missing the majority of it, feel like you could reconstruct it, word for word if necessary? That happened at Fell’s today. The ‘talk’ had obviously been going on for a while, but I can give you a perfect summary here: rude fuckboy thinks he gets to say who God is, Fell was having none of it.

Best response? Turn around, walk back to your apartment (pro-tip: this only works if you’re just a few blocks away), and change your shirt. I walked back in with my I MET GOD, SHE’S BLACK tee and had the pleasure of seeing Fell do a double-take.

“Yes, thank you, that’s what I’ve been trying to say!”

***

Doug E. 

Scout’s honor: I once saw that Crowley dude unhinge his jaw and eat a large pizza in one goddamn bite.

Update: you heathens read about this gay abomination with his dislocated jaw and what you decide to question is whether I was acTUALLY A SCOUT? 

***

Mary L. 

I came in with my four-year-old last week fully intending to keep him within sight at all times. Yes, I bought one of those kiddie leashes and no, I don’t regret a thing. You try holding down two jobs as a single mom to the bonefide antichrist. I love my boy, but the devil got to him, telling him things like, “Yes, Freddie, permanent marker would look just great on Mum’s only work jacket!”

I said as much to the owner because this mom needs to vent sometimes.  

I wish I could give this place a higher rating, but the ownership is frankly terrible. Inconsistent hours, no help when you’re trying to find a book, just basically all around bad customer service, BUT it still gets five stars because when I told the guy I was raising the antichrist?

“Oh yes. I did that myself not too long ago!”

We parents need to support one another. Otherwise the world is going to burn. So here’s a good review for you, Mr. Bookshop Guy. A part of me hopes you’re a better dad than you are a bookseller. The other part? The bigger part? It’s very aware that Ms. Pot here just met Mr. Kettle.

Now if you’ll excuse me, Freddie just got into the flour.

***

Alfred B.

I hereby nominate Mr. Fell as the British Steve Irwin. I’ve never seen anyone handle a red bellied black snake like that. I mean yeah, they’re a chill species overall, but there’s a difference between casually handling a snake and fucking chucking one onto the chair because it’s in your way. (Okay. Maybe Irwin was a little nicer.) 

Renee K. 

whos steve irwin?

Alfred B. 

...How old are you?

Renee K. 

15

Alfred B. 

You existed on this planet for two years with him and you dare to ask me this? Go boil your head and then use google. Good god.

***

Mark F. 

overheard the owner telling his boyfriend that last they met his brother tried to set him on fire? and succeeded?? actually now that I think about it, not sure which brother they were talking about---his brother or boyfriend’s brother--but WHOEVER has the brother needs to... i don’t even know. do something about that? ring the police or go to therapy or SOMETHING. i mean maybe they already have, i’m just an eavesdropping tourist, but the idea of someone setting that bow-tie cutie on fire—DID I MENTION THAT? PERSON ARSON. MURDER—makes my blood boil

***

Shiefa N. 

People aren’t joking about overhearing weird conversations here. I walked in on two men (owner and husband? owner and escort?) debating Seven Minutes in Heaven. You know, that stupid kissing game the better looking kids got to play in middle school. It got pretty heated at one point (pun not intended), arguing about whether seven minutes of making out was divine or damning behavior. I hung out long enough to catch the segue into a lust vs. love debate and then had to skedaddle. Nice couple. I support their weird flirting habits.

***

Chang Z. 

Is it legal to visit a store for things other then what it sells? I realize that makes me sound druggie or something but I swear I’m dealing with a much healthier addiction. (Ha. Maybe.) I cosplay (yeah, yeah, move along, trolls) and Mr. Fell has an absolute wealth of historical clothing. It’s astounding! I thought they were particularly detailed costumes at first, but no. I’m majoring in Textile and Apparel Studies. I know a naturally worn piece of fabric when I see it. Mr. Fell is always cracking jokes about how he wore this frock in the 19th century, this shirt in the 17th, oh don’t you just love my old vest? (He has... so many vests...) I indulge him because anyone who lets me borrow this stuff for free deserves all my attention and fake laughter.

Yeah. You read right. Artifacts borrowed for free. He’s even let me alter some of the stuff because I’m not exactly his size. Should this stuff be in a museum somewhere? Probably. Am I calling anyone to take my personal cosplay supply away? Noooope.

***

Leah M. 

Helping to spread the word here because I’m not sure how much foot traffic this place actually gets.

I pass Fell’s every morning on my way to work and yesterday there was a new sign in the window. This might not seem very interesting to most people on here, but you’ve got to understand that Fell’s never changes. None of it. I’ve lived in Soho since I was a boy and this place has always had the same placard with his insane times listed, same stripped paint on the door he’s never gotten around to fixing, same spiderweb in the corner I absolutely swear. My dad used to pop in there when he was in college and I swear he’s taken me through the stacks, points out books that haven’t moved in 30+ years. It’s nuts and more than a little bit impressive.

So you can imagine my shock when I passed by and saw not one, but four new papers in the front window. They’re drawings and I recommend going and taking a look for yourself. I don’t think I can accurately describe the utter chaos of crayons and glitter that’s displayed there, let alone what it’s trying to depict. A dystopia? The end of the world? If so the apocalypse features a surprising number of dogs.

There’s a fifth paper off to the side, written in Fell’s messy penmanship. It just says, “My god-children drew these!” and if that’s not the cutest things you’ve ever heard get out of my face.

***

Gabriel A. 

azirfell

alzaphral

azzzzzirafal

i’m a litttle drunk but azifjkaafha’s place is good he just needs a name easier to spell

***

Aziraphale 

Dear Gabriel A,

My partner Crowley told me about this site and the many lovely well-wishes you all have left us here. I have come to express my thanks and to offer a bit of advice. You are hardly the first person to struggle with my name, dear girl! I recommend the following three step process:

A - simple, yes? + zira - a nickname I’ve adopted over the years, easy enough to recall + phale - this is admittedly more difficult as our ending, “phale,” is neither spelled in a way nor presumed to be pronounced like the “fell” sound we end up with. In truth my name is more along the lines of Azz-ear-raf-AE-el, but change is inevitable and you needn’t hear about that transformation, nor the etymology involved in getting “fell” out of “phale.” I say this not because I don’t wish to teach you, but because my partner has reminded me--in a rather rude tone I should add--that this site has a word limit. Suffice to say you should simply memorize the “phale” portion and you shall be, as the expression goes, in tip top shape!

Best regards,

Aziraphale

P.S. Nothing personal, dear boy, but I fear I’m not terribly fond of your name either. I would highly recommend changing it if you’re ever of a mind to do so. Cheerio!

[whindsor]

the trials of online dating, part 2

hey @witchofinterest you’re still inspiring me btw

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe left-

Mika thought, with all the options available to her, that online dating in NYC would be a breeze. In truth, it didn’t even have to be dating. She just needed friends that weren’t her sister or her sister’s boyfriend.

Swipe left, swipe left, swipe - oh, hold on.

Mika furrowed her brow, glad that the handsome man on the screen couldn’t see the double chin she sported as she curled up on the couch. James Bucky Barnes. She’d heard that name before. Where had she heard it before?

A quick google search reminded her, making her sit up and stare down at her phone. Now when she looked at his picture, she remembered how sad he looked during the trial, how tired he was when he took the stand to talk about all the things that happened to him. TIME magazine ran article after article about the years he lost.

And now he was trying online dating? Good for him.

Mika stared long and hard at the screen. He was cute, and he also probably felt a little misplaced here in New York. Or, this was a fake account, and she would be disappointed. Again.

Hiking. Technology. Reading. Well, they had two out of three things in common.

Fuck it.

She swiped right before she could think too hard about it, going through a few more profiles before deciding that no one was going to strike her interest until she figured this James Bucky Barnes situation out. So she put her phone down and went about her afternoon, baking some bread for the week and cleaning the fridge out. She hated cleaning the fridge out, but since she was currently mooching of her sister in the studio apartment, she needed to do a little extra work.

She wasn’t surprised when her phone dinged later. She was surprised to find that it was James Bucky Barnes, accepting her match.

Interesting.

Her stomach did a flip. She wasn’t cool enough to match with the former Captain America’s best friend, and definitely didn’t expect him to go for the Romanian girl.

Had to be a catfish.

Mika: Is this really Mr. Barnes?

She was going to get to the bottom of this. If he messaged her back, then she could get on the web app and trace his IP address and see where it was registered. She wasn’t positive on the legality of that action, but safety came first. Her phone dinged again. A message!

James: Unfortunately.

The response made her laugh out loud, any thought of tracing his whereabouts fading. A catfish wouldn’t respond like that.

Mika: Deciding to try online dating? You’re becoming a real modern man, James! James: My therapist made me.

Ouch, okay, so maybe he wasn’t into the dating part. Mika was about to switch her tactics when he messaged again.

James: Sorry, that was short. Still getting the hang of this. James: You can call me Bucky. James: If you want.

Mika smiled down at her phone. There was something magical about the guy not caring about sending multiple texts in a row. Any girls she dated didn’t mind it, but men were always wanting to look all stoic. Mika found that the less they talked, the more desperate they were.

Mika: Nice to meet you, Bucky. I’m Mika. James: Nice to meet you, Mika. James: I saw you’re from Romania. Have you lived in New York long? Mika: Just a couple months. Moved here after the Blip. James: Oh, I’m sorry. That must be tough. Mika: Could be worse. I’m staying with my baby sister who is now, technically, older than me. Mika: How is it being back here?

Well if he didn’t think she was a creepy stalker, he did now!

James: Weird. So many things are different. James: But even weirder, some things are the same.

When Mika blipped back, it was hard enough to figure out everything that changed in five years. If the TIME articles were correct, Bucky was back in New York after leaving eighty years ago. She couldn’t even imagine how weird everything felt for him. And how lonely he must be.

Mika: So what’s the most important thing for me to check out? Mika: You know, since you’re a true New Yorker.

That was a safe enough topic, right? She hoped so. Centenarian or not, he was the first person to message her that didn’t ask for pictures, and she was in desperate need of someone chill. It took a while for Bucky to respond, long enough that she was utterly convinced that she’d said something wrong.

James: Totonno’s is where we used to go for pizza all the time. If you want good cheesecake, Junior’s is the best. Mika: Oh, I like both of those things!

She paused, hoping that the next message would be him asking her out. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy.

James: Let me know if you like them. James: If it’s any consolation, they still taste the exact same. Mika: Good to know. I’ve also been on the hunt for a Romanian place. Mika: Know of any? James: Not right off hand, but I can do some research. James: I spent some time there, before the Blip. Mika: Really?? Where?? James: Bucharest. Mika: No shit! I lived there! Mika: I was on the south side, in Rahova. James: …so was I. Mika: What apartments? I was Bloc 70 B.

The dots hovered, then disappeared, then hovered again, then disappeared again. Mika held her breath, but couldn’t maintain it long enough before having to take in a gulp of air. Bucky still didn’t respond. Was that too intimate a question? God, she hated this online thing sometimes.

Finally, her phone lit up again.

James: Did someone send you. Mika: What? No. Mika: I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? Mika: I know they weren’t the fanciest apartments, but…

Another ten agonizing minutes, then,

James: I’m sorry. I lived in those apartments too. James: I get spooked pretty easily nowadays.

Mika let out a huge breath of relief. Okay, good, so she wasn’t some inconsiderate asshole. Her and Bucky just had the weirdest coincidences.

Mika: That’s fair! Mika: How do I know you’re not the one following me?

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

James: I don’t do that anymore. James: That…probably didn’t help my case.

Oh thank God, he was just as awkward as she was. And at least he had the excuses.

Mika: Meh, not the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me. James: Same. James: Wish I could even say getting blipped was.

Don’t do it, don’t ask it, don’t say it -

Mika: What’s the weirdest thing then?

Fuck.

James: When Steve tripled in size. James: Thought I was hallucinating. Mika: Oh God, I can’t imagine! Mika: It’s weird enough that Nicoletta is a year older now Mika: At least she’s the same size James: Do you have other siblings?

Mika tapped the edge of her phone. She never did figure out how to word this without eliciting a pity party. But hey, Bucky of all people would probably understand.

Mika: We had an older sister. She passed away. James: I’m sorry to hear that. Mika: Thank you. James: My sister passed away about 20 years ago. James: Obviously, I was not there. Mika: Have you visited her grave? James: Yea, in the first couple weeks I was here. James: Will you think I’m an asshole if I say it was anticlimactic? Mika: Not at all. Mika: Last time I visited Raisa I called her a selfish bitch so Mika: You’re in good company

Too much information, that was too much information.

Bucky sent back…a laughing emoji.

James: That’s how you know you were close. James: My mother got mad at me because Rebecca thought her name was “Stupid Baby” for a long time. Mika: Aw, you were much nicer to your sister than I was haha James: Well, it was the ’20’s. James: Things were a little different. Mika: Were you a flapper? Mika: Don’t lie. James: I would never. James: Lie, that is. James: I was definitely a flapper. James: The cutest damn toddler flapper you’d ever see. Mika: Pics or it didn’t happen. James: I don’t know what that means. Mika: It means I want photographic evidence. James: Cameras weren’t invented yet. Sorry.

Man alive, James Bucky Barnes was funny.

They kept going back and forth, attempting a more normal conversation. It was, Mika found, a very nice conversation. He was someone she liked talking to, and he seemed to enjoy talking to her too. Or at least he was really good at faking it. 

“Why are you smiling so much at your phone?” Nicoletta asked later, giving her an odd look from her easel. Her boyfriend had already gone to bed, leaving them to watch whatever they wanted on Netflix. Of course that meant they put on a baking show and proceeded to do anything but watch it.

“Huh? I’m not smiling at my phone.” she said, tucking said phone into her lap.

“Don’t be dumb.” Nicoletta said, brandishing her paint brush like a knife. “Who are you talking to? You better not say-“

“Ew, no, not him.” Mika said, cutting her off before she could utter the name of her ex. “Just…someone I met on HiLove.”

“I thought we talked about those dating apps.”

“I’m lonely! I need friends.” she said. “He passed the background check.”

“Let me see a picture.” Nicoletta said, coming over. Mika sighed, thumbing through the app to find Bucky’s profile, and the one picture he had. She hoped her sister didn’t notice the two unread messages in the corner. “Hmm. Okay, he’s handsome.”

“Yes.” Mika agreed. In fact, he was becoming more handsome as the afternoon went on. “And he’s funny too. And smart.”

“Ok, calm down. You just started talking to him.”

“I know! I’m not like, proposing marriage.” Mika said, rolling her eyes. “I just like talking to him so far. That’s all.”

“Uh huh. I know how it goes with you ‘talking’ to good looking people.”

“About as well as it does with you.” she pointed out. “Pre Steve, of course.”

“Of course.” Nicoletta said. “Have you discussed future plans? Deepest fears? Favorite sexual positions?”

“I hate you.”

“These are important questions!”

“I’m going to bed.”

“No phone sex on the first day!”

“I really hate you!” Mika sang, pulling the curtain around the little area in the studio apartment that counted as her room. It was late, and she probably should go to bed anyways. But Bucky was still up, and they were currently discussing movies. Turned out, he was way behind.

Mika: Star Wars? James: Nope. It’s on the list. Mika: Star Trek? James: Also on the list. Mika: Pride and Prejudice? James: Isn’t that a book? Mika: And a movie! My favorite one. James: Guess I’ll move that to the top of the list then.

Was he…flirting? Mika couldn’t deny the smile on her face now, even as her eyes struggled to stay open. Nicoletta went to bed, and with the light off, staying conscious was becoming a struggle.

Mika: Good answer. James: Ever seen Wizard of Oz? Mika: …no. A little before my time. James: Ouch.

Despite the humor and the fun conversation, she could feel the fatigue setting in. She was so afraid to stop talking, afraid that tomorrow he would change his mind, or find someone cooler than her. But she couldn’t stay up all night anymore, she wasn’t in her 20’s.

Mika: Unfortunately, I think I need to sleep. James: I understand. It is really late.

She paused, tapping the edge of her phone. What was the worst he could say? No?

Mika: Talk to you tomorrow?

Apparently it was his turn to pause, long enough that she nearly fell asleep before her phone buzzed again.

James: I’m looking forward to it. James: Goodnight, Mika. Mika: Goodnight, Bucky.

She went to sleep with a smile.

[timelock97]

Love Without A Name

Prologue: One Date Too Many

Word Count: 1991

Masterlist

Warnings: Language, sexual references

A/N: Tom does not PHYSICALLY show up for a few chapters, he is in here, just not how you think at first. ENJOY!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

I shift my bag back into the crook of my arm, mail pressed against my chest with my right hand while I flip my keys around my fingers of my left. An 'ah-ha' falls past my lips as the apartment key lands between my thumb and index finger, shoving it into the lock and turning. The door bangs against the wall as I walk in, a sheepish smile falling across my lips as I mumble a silent 'sorry' for no one but myself. I use the heel of my shoe to grip the bottom of the door, shutting it behind me on my way to the too small kitchen to dump the contents of my arms onto the counter. "Fuck!" my hand flies from my chest, mail scattering to the floor in the process of me rescuing my keys before they fall too far into the nearby sink and into the garbage disposal. I let out a sigh of relief before muttering, "Why are you such a mess, (Y/N)?"

The sound of a small meow and bell causes a smile to appear on my face. Turning, I spy my small, calico cat beelining for my legs, coiling between them and rubbing against my scrub clad calves. "Hey there, Phoebe, how's my baby?" I coo as I move away from the counter and finish shrugging off my winter coat and scarf that were damp from the early winter weather. I listen as she purrs loudly around my ankles before I turn to lean down and pick up the scattered mail on the floor, only to giggle when the calico nuzzles my hand with her head, begging for attention.

Setting the mail back on the counter, I reach back inside my bag that is haphazardly leaning on the counter I rummage inside until my fingers brush against my phone. A message illuminates the screen, a confirmation text for my date with my latest Tinder match. "Maybe this'll be the one, huh Phoebes?" I turn my head and look at the cat at my feet before padding down the hall and typing out a quick response to "Luke" telling him I couldn't wait. Honestly though, first dates were the absolute worst when you barely know the person.

The plum dress hugged my body perfectly, showing off my natural curves. I stood outside the usual bar waiting for my date with Tinder open on my phone in one hand while my other hand fiddled with the buttons on my black wool coat. Glancing at my phone for the umpteenth time, I notice that the time he and I had agreed on had ticked past about a half hour ago, and my nose was starting to go numb from standing outside in the cold.

With a huff, I typed a quick message that I would be waiting inside at the bar for him before I waltzed in through the door and to my usual place.

"Another date, (Y/N)?" The bartender, Sam, asks as she pours a drink for a small group of people at the opposite end of the bar.

"Not if he doesn't show up." I state as I shrug off my coat and place it on the back of my chair before sitting down. Jared, the other bartender hands me a glass of Sprite, knowing I wouldn't drink until I had confirmation that I had been stood up.

Another five minutes pass before someone taps my shoulder, "(Y/N)?".

"Luke?" I turn and smile at a man with a full, but trimmed, black beard and bright blue eyes.

"I am so sorry I'm late, traffic." He states, moving to sit beside me after shrugging of his coat.

"I figured, it's fine." I notice Sam walk back down and smile at us, "Let's get a drink then order, that okay?" I tilt my head to the side, hair falling from behind my shoulder as I flash a small smile at him.

He nods, eyes crinkling in the corners, "Sounds perfect."

As the conversation continues, I can tell that this date would end one of two ways: he would rather be friends, especially when being only friends usually lead to never speaking again, or he would want to take this date back to his place. Neither were what I was looking for, but from the way he had been trying to place a hand on my knee and drawing shapes into it and trying to inch his hand higher, I could only assume the latter.

"So, what are your intentions?" I ask point blank, moving his hand for a third time as it tried to slide up further on my thigh.

"What do you mean?" He laughs, placing his head into his hand that is propped on the counter and laying his other arm on his leg again so just his fingers just brush my knee.

"I mean, all the signs say you want sex, which you won't get." His fingers pause their dance, "What are you thinking?"

I watch as his face falls still, no smile. "Well," his hands withdraw from their place and he straightens his posture. "I had been hoping to have some fun tonight, but now I know that that's not going to happen." It doesn't surprise me when he stands and begins collecting his coat.

"So that's just it, that was all you were hoping out of this was sex? Nothing else?" I ask honestly, it always made me curious with how some people saw relationships these days.

"Well, honestly yeah." He pauses to look at me, annoyance evident in his facial features. "You seemed like the type to be into that, you lead me on-"

"Nope, didn't lead you on. We've been talking for what, three weeks, and you ultimately thought that I was only in it just for that?" I watch as he shrugs, causing me to shake my head, "You really must be thick. Either way, I hope you have a safe drive hope, thanks for keeping me company, having dinner, and letting me pay for half. Have a nice life."

I watch as he begins to float around the bar, flirting with other women in hopes that he can maybe not go home empty handed.

"I actually thought he was going to be it tonight, (Y/N/N). Sorry that didn't work out." Sam's voice carries from across the bar as she sets another drink in front of me while taking the two empty glasses.

"It was at least nice conversation before he decided to get handsy." I hum before I take a quick sip of the alcohol in my glass. "I think I need to try something new; I can't seem to do this right."

"Nah, dating in this day and age just isn't very fun anymore." Sam states, wiping her hands on her apron. "You gonna hang for a bit longer? I have my break in ten and we can talk more."

"Yeah, I'll be here." I state, smiling at her as she walks off to take someone else's order. I run my fingers through my hair and pull my phone out of my coat pocket, seeing that I had several new messages from not only Tinder, but a few other dating apps waiting.

I was sick and tired of all the guys who lead on that they wanted a relationship, but in reality only wanted a booty call or rebound; if I were to be so unlucky, by the end of the third date they stated they just wanted to be friends and then end up never messaging back again. I was tired of hoping fate would just finally say 'yeah, she's waited long enough' and dropped someone in my lap; but, no, all I had to show was the unopened messages haunting me from Tinder with an abundance of dick pics that were so unattractive that they could be mistaken for, well, anything else.

"You need to get off those apps, or make a new account." Sam states as she settles down next to me on a barstool.

I fold my arms over the bar, leaning over them. "What do you have in mind, Sam?"

"I'm so glad you asked, because I ran your dilemma by my sister, Carly, and she told me she might have the perfect solution for you."

"And that would be?"

"Heart Haven." Sam states with bright eyes, smiling happily at me. I raise an eyebrow at her as she looks at me for any sort of recognition of the name, she finds none. She rolls her eyes, "It's basically a matchmaking service. Her and Josh met through them. She can get you a free consultation."

"Sam, is this even a good idea?" I groan, "I don't wanna look like a loser telling them that I have been on so many dates and have only managed to get the guys just looking to get their dick wet."

"Y'know, for someone who says she's super innocent, you don't act like it sometimes." She laughs before pulling her phone out of her pocket and typing into google. She pulls up their website and hands it over to me.

Heart Haven, creating matches made in heaven. We as a company take into account that the world is a busy place, and going on date after date can lead to a whole world of self-doubt that a lifelong partner is so far away. We want to help you find your happy ending. With the assistance from our sister locations across the U.S. and around the world, we are able to not only find someone for you to love and cherish, but someone who will do that in return. Your consultation appointment to help us get to know you is absolutely free, and if you're worried about paying for our services, we can talk prices. If interested, call (***)-***-**** or email us at findlove@hearthaven.com.

"Do you really think this could work?"

Sam shrugs, taking her phone back. "Well, I guess I can tell you tomorrow. I meet my match tomorrow."

"Really?" I look at her excitedly, smiling at the way her cheeks flush and her smile becomes shy.

"I'm so excited, I have a good feeling about this." She grabs my hands gently, "Go home, think about it, and text me tomorrow night. I'll help you get ahold of my counselor, she's amazing."

I nod, taking one last sip of my drink before sliding it closer to the opposite section of the bar and handing Sam my card. She stands and walks around to charge me, handing the card back once she's done. "Call me after your date tomorrow, I wanna hear all about it."

"Will do, see you later, (Y/N)."

~

Saturday evening had rolled around too quickly, as had an invitation to a family-friend's wedding. I had been sitting on the couch, reading over the Heart Haven website for the past few hours; checking statistics, prices, and stories of new-found love.

I pick up my phone and text Sam, hoping she had a great date, and wondering if I could get the number for the counselor she had been hyping up. It only took a few minutes before her message comes through,

------

Sam

Still with Asher, Hazel's number is (***)-***-****.

Make sure to tell her that Carly and I recommended the place.

You won't regret it.

Get ready, girl. Love is just around the corner.

------

I smile at the message, dialing the number and getting sent straight to voicemail, I take a breath as it cues me to leave a message. "Hi, my name is (Y/F/N), I was hoping to set up a consultation with Hazel. I heard from Carly and Sam Simmons that she's the best. You can reach me back at this number, hope to hear from you soon."

I smile as I end the call, maybe love was just around the corner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Here is the PROLOGUE! I am so happy with how it has all turned out and I cannot wait for you all to get into it! Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think, like, reblog! Let me know if you want to be tagged! You’re awesome!

@revenantwriting | @bellagrayson-wayne | @jackiehollanderr | @snowxbarryxendgame | @let-me-luve-you | @mybitchborky | @linnyalou | @fanficscuziranout​ | @literallytrashhhhhh

Chapter One

[5sosbitchfest]

Okay. I know you’ve all been waiting patiently for us to talk about the Michael and Crystal engagement, and since it’s been three days we feel like we’ve gathered enough information that we can talk about it. We know this came as a shock to some people, but honestly it didn’t come as a shock to any of us. We knew this was coming. And after it happened, all the puzzle pieces started to fall into place. I, Link, will be heading up this post. I’m going to talk about all of this. It’s all going to be under a cut because this is going to be a very image heavy post. 

So let’s go:

This started well before the Guess trip with Michael’s post on IG on NYE

With the statement that it was going to be “the best year of all of our lives”. Forget the fact this doesn’t sound like something Michael would say because whatever. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but after the engagement happened it seems he was very heavily hinting that something big was coming. 

They of course, got to Bali for the DesitnationGUESS trip and more and more pics were released of Michael and Crystal throughout the trip. They focused extremely heavily on Michael and Crystal despite the fact there was at least one other couple on the trip. Yes, it could be argued that this is because Michael is the most famous on the trip, but that argument in my opinion is weak because he’s just not that famous. Not only did Guess focus heavily on Michael and Crystal, but so did the people on the trip. Michael and Crystal were also featured heavily on the stories of the ambassadors on the trip. Like...very heavily. There were at least six stories posted from people about Michael and Crystal “singing” together, all with little messages about them being their favorite couple or the cutest couple, etc. Now, I don’t know about you...but I don’t know anyone who is that obsessed with another couple. People just don’t do that unless in the case of clout. Interesting right? 

So let’s take this moment to talk about the elephant in the room: the Guess trip being an all expenses paid promotional trip. Yes, Michael proposed to Crystal on a trip to Bali that neither of them paid for. How romantic right?? I know that’s what I would want...to have the “love of my life” propose to me on this sort of trip. They claim it’s because Bali is where “it all began for them” when yet again...that was another all expenses paid trip and she was cheating on her boyfriend, Spencer, at the time (if you believe the official narrative). LOL. Really, bitch? And y’all actually support her knowing she’s also a racist, fat shaming xenophobe. Amazing.

So that brings me to the engagement announcement.

Now, I would like to point something out. This announcement was made FIVE DAYS after the alleged proposal happened. According to US Weekly, Michael proposed on January 11th. 

This was two days after Slapgate happened. And for the next several days, Crystal didn’t wear the ring because you know...they were hiding it. The article then goes on to talk about Guess, the resort, they name several of the Guess ambassadors, the 1975 and even the chef that cooked the dinner for this evening! WHY? Why does anyone care about that? They don’t. This was all promotion. 

Oh, of course there’s this as well

A picture of Michael and Crystal sharing a kiss while all the Guess ambassadors look upon them adoringly. 

Friends celebrated this special moment with the couple, but there are three very important members that are missing: Luke, Calum and Ashton. Michael’s three best friends since childhood who weren’t even invited to this “special moment”. 

One more quick thing I wanted to point out: note the name of the photographer, Ryan Fleming. 

Ryan Fleming is Crystal’s close friend and, for all intents and purposes, personal photographer. He has shot several of Michael’s and Crystal’s “couples” photos over the course of their relationship. He’s been part of this farce since the beginning.

Okay, moving right along to the plethora of articles this “engagement” spawned. 

Not seconds after Michael posted about the engagement that US Weekly posted an article with an exclusive of the proposal and unseen photos. SECONDS. This was planned. Now, okay...lots of celeb couples sell their pics to articles for the publicity. That’s not unusual. What is unusual; however, is the amount of publicity that Michael and Crystal got

At least ten highlighted articles spawned from this engagement, including one with an exclusive. I want to draw attention to this because I want you to keep in mind that Crystal is literally a nobody. She is in no way famous, and Michael is a C list celeb at best. They got ten articles while Josh Dun and Debby Ryan (who I am using as comparison because they’re the most recently engaged couple I can think of) got four. FOUR. Four articles about a couple that include two people who are exponentially more famous than Michael and Crystal with no exclusives. None. They each posted about their engagement a day later with little fanfare. And yet these two...get ten highlighted articles?

And then this happens:

Guess posts a story (the top pic) about the engagement happening and the story is linked directly to the US Weekly article. Then they make an IG post all about “reliving the magical moment” of this engagement in a post. 

Wow. Talk about massive promo for Guess because now they’ve got the attention of a LOT of people. I wasn’t aware that designer brands were so invested in the relationships of their ambassadors. I’ve literally never seen such a thing before. 

So okay, we’ve got the syndicated articles, the Guess promotion, the fans falling all over themselves about this engagement and you think...well this is it right? 

But oh it isn’t! Because then this happens

Do you know what that is? THAT IS A FUCKING NEWSPAPER ARTICLE!

A newspaper article! I’m sorry, but did Michael and Crystal become the Carters while I wasn’t looking??? Or perhaps the West-Kardashians??? What the hell is happening here? How does a nobody and a C list celeb get a newspaper article about their engagement??? Can you even believe??? (FYI, I don’t know what newspaper article this is. I haven’t been able to find the source yet. I got this off a tea account on IG.)

This sparked my interest and I did a Google search only to find even more articles about this engagement. There are at least 30 articles about this engagement, including articles in publications such as The Knot and Brides, who usually only cover A list celeb weddings. 

So please...someone explain to me how this happens??? Clearly, Crystal and Modest forked out a lot of money for this kind of publicity because Crystal isn’t famous and Michael isn’t famous enough for this kind of exposure. Something is very, very off with this. 

So how does this tie into the Lie To Me video being released? Well, funny you should ask because this was posted just before the premiere of LTM, garnering a lot of attention. Conveniently, Crystal was silent about this entire thing (save for one story about being so grateful for all the support wank wank) until after the release of LTM. One hour later, she posted about the engagement. How very, very convenient that is. Of course, Michael liked the post within moments, but has yet to actually post anything about LTM because you know...why would he support his band? So far, it’s only been retweets which is just like...the bare minimum amount of promotion he can do.

So let’s move onto the next section: Ashton’s shade. 

Thirty minutes before Michael’s post about their engagement, Ashton posted this. It was deleted a little bit later. A song in Russian called Te Amo. Te Amo is Spanish, not Russian. What I think is that Ashton was equating this fake song to a fake romance: Michael and Crystal. Ashton has never been quiet in reference to how he feels about PR stunts. He’s spoken about them with disdain. Of course, this Tweet could be up for interpretation, but that’s what I think. Ashton is very good at throwing shade. 

This is the next Tweet we got from Ashton, just a little while before the LTM vid premiered. You can clearly read what it is he says. I believe Ashton was referencing the PR stunts these boys are forced to go through. I think he was not only speaking about Arzaylea and Luke, but about Michael and Crystal as well. I don’t care what anyone says, Arzaylea and Luke were just as much PR as Michael and Crystal and now Luke and Sierra. It wrecked Luke because Arzaylea was a terrible person to him, even though their whole relationship was contrived. But guess what...she was Crystal’s protege. Yeah, chew on that. 

So now Ashton has to watch another one of his best friends be wrecked by this bullshit. Just because these relationships are business doesn’t mean they aren’t toxic. Toxic relationships aren’t just romantic, they can be platonic and business as well. 

But it seems that not everyone is convinced that this wasn’t a total con. The following is an excerpt from the Jezebel article:

Huh. Imagine that. Not everyone is looking at this through rose-tinted glasses, and even if this author doesn’t believe that their relationship is fake she still recognizes the “spon-con” for what it is. You can read the whole article HERE.

Of course, one of my favorite things about this whole sham is how fucking awkward Michael is with Crystal, like so

Hella YIKES. Be more awkward, pal. We realize you’re not used to kissing her because you know...she’s your co-worker and all, but damn. Where those acting skills you learned from that acting coach you hired?

And then of course, there’s this gem which was the pic posted in US Weekly zoomed in

Why does he look like he’s in physical pain to be doing this? 

Now we’ve come to the last part of this whole charade that is the biggest red flag for me:

NONE OF HIS BANDMATES HAVE COMMENTED, LIKED, OR CONGRATULATED HIM PUBLICLY ABOUT THIS ENGAGEMENT.

Oh, I can hear the arguments about this now that will include “they don’t have to, they can do it privately” or “maybe they were just busy” or “why does it matter?” 

Except that all of those arguments are fucking weak because with the amount of famous people that took time out of their busy day and schedule to congratulate them is paramount. Even Doug the fucking Pug congratulated them. So you mean to tell me that Luke, Calum and Ashton couldn’t take a few seconds to comment or even like the post? On either IG or Twitter? They have been dead fucking silent about this whole thing. Why? Because they obviously do not like Crystal. They haven’t for awhile, and she clearly doesn’t like them. Which is hilarious considering she’s their PR manager. 

There is a very obvious disconnect between Michael and his best friends/bandmates right now. It’s been three days and they’ve been totally radio silent about this. This disconnect is because of Crystal, I guarantee it. When I call her the Yoko Ono of 5sos, I mean it. I find it funny that all these people are predicting things like 5sos in tuxes and who’s going to be the best man. Do you guys really think any of them are going to be in the wedding party if there’s an actual wedding? I highly doubt it. They weren’t even invited to the engagement event. Hell, at this point I’m pretty sure they weren’t even invited to Michael’s last birthday party and ended up crashing it. If Crystal has to choose one of them to be in the party, it’s likely the one she hates least and I think that’s Calum, personally. 

I don’t know what this is going to mean for the future of the band. I don’t know if Michael is going to leave the band at some point or not. He seems to be quite caught up in his influencer life all of a sudden. I can’t say I’m not worried because I am. I’ve tried to deny the separation between him and the rest of the band, but I really can’t anymore. 

In conclusion, this changes nothing that I believe or think. I still believe this is a massive PR stunt. I still believe it’s partially to cover up Luke and Michael’s relationship, and I think it’s going to get even more ugly before it gets better. 

Alas, my co-admins and I aren’t going anywhere. We’re going to see this shit through till the end. 

ETA: Crystal read the article that Jezebel posted about their engagement being a spon-con and promptly emailed the writer to “clear up” the perception. 

It’s just...so laughable that it’s almost sad. She got so offended by an internet article that she felt the need to email them and clarify that all that was said wasn’t true. If you ask me...that’s just more proof that that is is FAKE AF.

[allhailkingrooker51]

So, there’s this guy...

that y’all may know that I’m freakin’ madly in love with.  He goes by the name Michael Rooker. 😜 I finally got to meet him.  Here’s my story...*Law & Order noise*

Fandemic Houston Day 1 - September 14, 2018

My alarm went off at 7:30 a.m.  I was already awake though.  I had hardly slept at all.  I had hardly slept the last two months for that matter as September 14th got closer.  I couldn’t remember ever being this excited for anything in my entire life.  This was going to be the best weekend ever.  

I jumped out of bed, got ready, and packed the car, mostly with Rooker memorabilia.  I hadn’t officially decided what all I wanted him to autograph yet so I brought a little of everything – some of my Rooker Funkos, all my Yondu, Merle, and Chick Gandil trading cards, and my all-time favorite Rooker picture printed out as an 8X10.  I mapped out the directions to the NRG Center on my phone and swung by to pick up my best friend who I’ve known since kindergarten.  After a little detour to Chick-fil-a to get some breakfast, we were on our way to Fandemic Houston.

My friend doesn’t know much about Rooker.  As far as his movies, she had only seen Vol. 1 and Vol. 2.  I had sent her various Rooker videos on YouTube, though, for her to watch as “homework” like the Into the Night doc with James Gunn and the Inside of You podcast with Michael Rosenbaum.  The whole way down to Houston, I told her as many Rooker stories as I could think of.  She had a lot of catching up to do before she met the greatest person on this planet.

Things were going great.  We were making good time on the road.  My friend seemed entertained with the Doug Loves Movies podcast with the cast of Super, including Rooker and the Gunn Bros., that I was forcing her to listen to.  Then things suddenly changed.

I had been having bad feelings about this trip even months before.  Meeting Michael Rooker would be my biggest dream come true, but every time I paid for something for Fandemic, whether it was the hotel or Rooker VIPs or Sean Gunn's autograph, I was just waiting for the ball to drop and I wouldn’t be able to go.  I never really get to do anything fun ever, and in the back of my mind, something was going to go wrong.  Something always does.  And something did.

We were cruising down interstate about an hour outside of Houston.  It began to rain.  No big deal.  I turned on the windshield wipers, and we continued laughing with the podcast on the radio.  Then I noticed the passenger side windshield wiper was doing this little fish-tailing action every time it went across the windshield.  I had just had new windshield wipers installed two days earlier, but I hadn’t had to use them yet, and I thought, “You know, that doesn’t look right.”

Then I noticed the one in front of me started to do the same thing.  Just as I opened my mouth to tell my friend there's something wrong with the windshield wipers, the rain started coming down like a monsoon and both wipers flew off my car with an almost comical synchronized whoosh.  

Well, fuck.

Somehow, by the grace of God, I was able to cross over two lanes of busy interstate to the shoulder without causing a 15-car pileup.  Once the mini panic attack of trying to safely get to the side of the road subsided and after I dropped a plethora of choice curse words, I turned on my hazards and began to think. What the hell are we gonna do?  

It was raining fucking cats and dogs, and I couldn’t see shit.  Think!  Plan B. Plan B.  Wait, what was plan B?  I wasn’t expecting this.  We didn’t even have a plan B.  

Should we just wait out the rain for a bit?  Maybe it would stop soon.  But I had already checked the weather earlier, and it was supposed to rain all day.  

This can’t be happening.  The greatest day of my life and I’m stranded on the interstate in a deluge with no windshield wipers three and a half hours away from home.  And to top it all off, I have a pre-purchased Sean Gunn/Rooker photo op in a few hours that I couldn’t miss.  This was not good.

We sat there for a few minutes hoping the rain would subside enough for me to at least get us off the highway.  We started googling the nearest auto parts store while we waited.  There was one less than a mile away.  

Vehicles were flying past me in a blur, and the fear of someone plowing into the back of my car took over.  I knew we had to get off the interstate as soon as possible.  Luckily an exit was about 50 feet away, and I had to try for it.  With the rain letting up just a tad, and with my friend looking out the passenger side window and guiding me along the edge of the asphalt, I managed to creep off the interstate shoulder going about three miles per hour onto the service road.  I could still barely see, but I felt a little more relieved being off the interstate. 

The rain kept coming.  My view through the windshield looked the exact same as when I don’t have my contacts in.  Everything was blurry as shit.  I continued my snail-like pace, my eyes concentrating simultaneously on the taillights of the cars ahead of me and the fuzzy, white dashes of the lane to my near left.  

I crept through the next red light and made a left.  Not far down the road, there it was.  We had made it.  I had never been so happy to see an Autozone in my entire fucking life.  We went inside, explained what had happened, bought two new windshield wipers, this time properly installed, and once again we were on our way.  

It stopped raining about 20 minutes later.

Looking back now, the whole situation was funny as hell.

Despite our little automotive dilemma, we still got to the NRG Center 15 minutes before Fandemic started.  I parked the car, turned off the ignition, and checked in with my Rooker Hooker friends online to let them know I made it.  Then I sat frozen in my seat.  

“I don’t think I can do this,” I told my friend.  My nerves were getting the best of me.  She assured me that I could, in fact, do this.  I had to do this.  I’m so glad she went with me.  I knew she wouldn’t let me back out of anything.  I made sure I had my things, took a deep breath and forced myself to get out of the car.

We made it inside the convention center, and a woman in a red Fandemic shirt directed us to the VIP ticket window.  (Every staff member we came across at Fandemic was absolutely awesome, by the way.  Even the C.E.O. was greeting every guest with a handshake and a hello as you entered through security.)

I went up to the window and handed over my paper tickets to exchange for our Rooker VIP badges.  While the worker scanned the tickets, I looked behind her to the table along the back wall.  It was covered from one end to the other with plastic bins.  Each bin was labeled by name and full of red VIP lanyards for each corresponding celebrity – Jeffrey Dean Morgan, Norman Reedus, Bruce Campbell, Tom Welling, etc.  

The lady finished scanning my tickets and turned to get our VIP badges from the bins.  Only there wasn’t a bin for Rooker.  She couldn’t find them.  I started to panic a little inside.  I mean it’s obvious I bought them.  I had the paper tickets as proof.  They were in her hand for Pete’s sake.  She looked down at the paper again and walked the length of the table for the second time.  Still no luck.  I really started to worry.  Of course, my initial thought is the ball is dropping again. First my windshield wipers, and now this.

I couldn't hear what she was saying behind the window, but her mouth was moving as I watched her hand my paper over to another worker.  This worker checked the paper, and they both walked over towards the middle of the table. There laying between two bins was a little Ziploc bag with Rooker’s name on it with maybe four or five VIP badges in it.  I turned to my friend, who had been out of eyesight of what just happened, stuck out my bottom lip and said, “Awww, my poor baby.  He only has a Ziploc bag of VIPs, and we have two of ‘em.”  I don’t know why, but it made me love him even more.

After a bag check and a wanding from security, we finally made it onto the convention floor.  I was one giant walking ball of nerves as we went through those doors.  I was in the same room as Michael Rooker!  On one hand, I couldn’t wait to see him.  On the other, I was afraid I was gonna faint and fall out on the floor right in front of all the Deadpools and Negans and Harley Quinns.  

We decided to bypass the vendors and headed straight to the autograph booths. Granted we were still a little early, so none of the celebs had made it to their tables yet.  Rooker’s booth was already filling up.  There were about 20 people or so already waiting.  My friend asked if I wanted to go ahead and get in line.  I couldn’t.  My feet wouldn’t move.  I wasn’t ready.  I had to see him first.  From afar.  Then maybe I’d get the courage to go talk to him.  

The whole time things were going down, I was checking in with my Rooker friends online, giving them play-by-plays of what was happening and taking their encouragement to heart.  I was gonna need it all.

My friend and I decided to walk around a little more and found ourselves standing near the back row of the autograph tables.  That’s when I saw celebs start to trickle through the curtain in the corner and head to their booths.  

Every time those red and black curtains moved, my heart stopped thinking it would be him.  Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan came out together.  There went Sean Patrick Flanery.  And then Bruce Campbell.  I knew Rooker couldn’t be far behind.  

Minutes later, the curtains moved once more, and there he was.  Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as he walked the floor in front of me.  He wore his black leather jacket and blue sunglasses, a white v-neck t-shirt, his newest Penman hat and a giant smile on his face.  Somehow, I managed to stop my hands from shaking to take a few pics before he disappeared into his booth, his boisterous voice loud as he greeted his awaiting fans.

After my heart rate returned to a somewhat normal rhythm, we walked around towards the front of his booth.  We looked on from a distance as I stood there silently building up my confidence to go get in his line.  I told my online Rooker friends that I wasn’t sure I could do this.  They again told me I could.  I loved him too much not to, they said.  And they were right.  

I knew I needed to go get in line, but I just couldn’t take that first step.  But I had to do it.  I had come too far, and I had too many cool things to show him rather than stand there and stare at him like a creeper.  I had to jump off that cliff.  Take that plunge.  Just like ripping a Band-Aid off with the sweetest reward waiting for me right after.

One of the Fandemic workers near his booth was walking around with an inflatable pickle.  He told her he wanted to sign it.  He autographed the pickle, and as she walked away, he yelled out to her, “Don’t touch it for a little while.  It’s still wet!”  He knew exactly what he was doing, too.  He laughed and then did that little shit-eating grin while biting his tongue.  Y’all know which one I’m talking about.  Watching him laughing and joking around with everyone started to put my mind at ease. This is Rooker we’re talking about.  I’m gonna be fine.  So, I did it.  I put my big kid pants on and got in line.  

The line was moving fairly quickly, but I made sure to sneak some more pics while I waited.  I still couldn’t believe this was all real.  Seeing him right there, mere feet away from me.  Hearing that raspy voice in person.  It was almost too much.

When I got about eight people away, I pulled out his headshots from my bag.  I have several of Rooker’s old original headshots and resumes, and I couldn’t wait to see what his reaction was.  

Now, don’t get me wrong.  I was still a nervous wreck.  A million things raced through my brain.  What if I can’t talk when I get up there?  What if he doesn’t like me?  What if he thinks I’m weird?  Even worse, what if he thinks I’m a batshit crazy stalker ‘cause I have his old headshots?

Then the weirdest thing happened.  The closer I got to him, the less nervous I became.  By the time I made it in front of him at that table, it was like I was about to say “hey” to an old friend.  All the butterflies had flown away.  

One of his helpers had already taken the headshot from me that I wanted Rooker to autograph to keep the line running smoothly.  He handed it to Rooker and said, “Ohh, this is an oldie.”

Rooker greeted us as he took the headshot and he was like “Whoaaa” and smiled really big as I showed him the others.  He got a kick out of them!  He grabbed the oldest headshot, which was his first one, his hair super curly, and called over Sean Gunn and Chris Sullivan, who immediately left their tables to see what was going on.  They both promptly busted out laughing when Rooker showed them. They cracked some jokes together and then Rooker said, “That was my first headshot, this is my last.”  He walked over to me and showed me a pic of himself wearing no hat with his hair a FREAKIN’ mess on what I believe was Sean’s phone maybe, which in turn made him laugh even harder.  

He walked back over to Sean and Sully, where Sully had since pulled up his own old headshot on his phone.  Rooker busted out laughing again, and they compared their curly hair and then showed all the people in line their “white men afros” as Rooker put it.  

The whole time I felt like I was in a dream watching this all take place.  I mean I figured Rooker would think it was pretty cool seeing his old headshots and resumes, but I never thought it would have caused all this.  

He came back over to me and thanked me for bringing the headshots and picked up a blue marker to sign the one I had picked out for his autograph.

Up until then, had that been the end of our interaction, I would have walked away from his table completely ecstatic.  At that moment, I could have officially died happy.  But it wasn’t over yet.

As he was signing the headshot, I told him that I had something to show him and to pick an arm.  He looked a little perplexed and said, “Ummmm...your left.”

I sheepishly lifted up my shirt sleeve to show him my portrait tattoo of one of his Skillset magazine pictures.  He said, “OMG.....you know what that’s from, right?”  I kind of laughed and said, “Well, yeah.”  He said, “That’s from my Skillset!”  Then, I lifted up my right shirt sleeve to reveal my other Rooker portrait tattoo, this one a bald, serious-faced shot.  He glanced at it really quick and said, “Oh yeah, Thanos, very cool.”

I laughed and said, “It’s not Thanos, it’s you!”  I had to catch myself before I affectionately called him a dork at the end of that sentence.  He said, “What?!  Lemme see it again!”  I lifted my sleeve, and he said again that it looks like Thanos, totally fucking with me.  I said, “It’s not Thanos!  Why would I have Thanos?  You’re way hotter than Thanos!”  He chuckled and said “Well, yeah, I’m hotter than Thanos!  Fine, it’s a sexy Thanos.”  

He then walked around his table, grabbed my shoulders, spun me around, yanked my shirt sleeve back up and proceeded to ask the crowd, very loudly I might add, if my tattoo looked like “Sexy Thanos” all the while laughing his ass off.  Of course, the crowd agreed with him.  

I didn’t even have time to think about being embarrassed.  The next I thing knew, he turned back to me, smiled a huge Rooker smile, said I was awesome and reached out and caressed my face.  I about passed out.  

Rooker went back around his table to the headshots and started talking about his resumes stapled to the back.  We talked for a couple of minutes trying to figure out the timeline of the headshots vs. the resumes vs. the talent agency he was with at the time.    

The whole time he talked, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.  The way he smiled and chomped his gum, his eyes behind his blue sunglasses, his curls thick under his hat, his sexy voice, his chest hair poking out of the collar of his shirt.  He is absolutely hypnotic.  I was in heaven, y’all.  

He grabbed the curly-haired headshot, smiled and said, “You know what?  Just ‘cause you’re you, I’m gonna sign this one, too.  It’s a 2-for-1 Rooker deal.”  I, of course, was over the moon.

He signed it with the same blue marker and gave me a fist bump.  I told him thank you and that I would see him tomorrow and that I had something even cooler for him to sign.  He said, “Alright!”

I walked away on Cloud 9.  Michael Rooker touched my face!  I was freaking out.  I couldn’t have asked for a better first meeting with Rooker.  

A little while later, we were standing in line for the Rooker/Sean Gunn photo op when I realized that in the headshot/tattoo craziness earlier, I had forgotten to give Rooker the t-shirt I had brought as a gift for him.  I wasn’t mad at myself, though.  That just meant I got to go see him again.

When it came time for the photo op, Rooker came strutting over from his booth, grinning while biting his tongue in his teeth again.  The whole weekend I never saw the man without a smile on his face.

For those of you who've never been to a comic con before, the photo ops go by fast. Like insanely fast.  They shuffle you quickly into the booth, you stand next to the celeb, the photographer snaps the picture, and then you're shuffled back out just as fast as you came in.    

Now don’t take this the wrong way.  I'm not knocking the process by any means.  It's completely understandable.   There are literally hundreds of fans of many fandoms that they’re trying to accommodate.  But just because it goes fast, doesn’t mean you won’t have a memorable experience.

The Gunn/Rooker photo op was my very first one of the weekend.  When I got behind the curtain, Rooker immediately grabbed my arm, and pulled me between Sean and himself with a hearty “Get over here, woman!”  I put my arms around them both, the photo was snapped, Rooker smiled really big and said “Thank you, sweetheart” as I walked away, him keeping his hand on my back ‘til I was out of his arm's reach.  

The whole thing couldn’t have lasted for more than 45 seconds or so.  But I didn’t care.  Sean’s arm had been around my shoulder!  I had touched the Rooker leather jacket!  Rooker called me “sweetheart"!  He touched my back!  I was close enough to smell his minty-gum fresh breath!  The Rooker legend that he smells of mint and leather is true!  I couldn’t wait to do more ops with him.

After the photo ops, we headed over to the concession stand.  We hadn’t gotten a chance to eat lunch, and we were starving.  We got a little something to tide us over until dinner and went and sat down at a table in the little VIP reserved section.  Not five minutes later, my phone went off with my Merle Dixon notification sound.  It was an Instagram alert.  ROOKER WAS LIVE!

I’ve seen a lot of Rooker Instagram live videos from cons before, but to see one in the making?  No way I was gonna miss this!  We jumped up, grabbed our stuff, and were off on the hunt for him.  With the help of the Rooker Hookers directing me where to go, it didn’t take long to find him.  

For nearly 30 minutes, we followed him from a distance watching him visit vendor booths, stop to play in the Batmobile and interact with fans, ending with a giant selfie back at his booth.  

After the excitement of him Instagramming live died down and his line cleared a little, I decided to go give him his t-shirt.  The lady taking the money at his booth, who was super freakin’ nice by the way and who would come to know us quite well by the end of the weekend, greeted us again with a smile.

I walked up to him at his table and said, “I'm back, Rooker!"  He said, “Hey, Sexy!”  Rooker called me sexy.  I mean I'm totally not, but.. anyways.  I only hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt.  I said, “I forgot to give you this earlier,” and I handed him his shirt.  I told him where I was from as he unfolded the shirt and spread it out on the table.  One of my favorite things about Rooker is that he supports first responders and the armed forces.  Without going into too many details, I gave him a fire department shirt from my hometown, where he's filmed a couple of things and has visited even when not filming.  He said he loved my hometown and I explained to him that my stepdad is a police officer, and he had actually met Rooker years before on the set of one of his tv projects.  I told him that my mom is a 911 dispatcher for the fire department where the shirt was from and that I had tried to get him a police department shirt, too, but I couldn’t get one in time.  

He said he loved the shirt and we talked a couple more minutes and he told me to tell my parents thank you for all that they do.  Then he said, “You know what?  You get a selfie!”  He came around his booth, stood right next to me, and held his shirt out while my friend snapped some pics.  Again, I was over the moon.  I had already gotten an extra autograph earlier, and now Rooker was breaking his rule about “No selfies" at his table.  He then shook my hand and said thank you again and I told him I'd see him tomorrow.  You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Like Rooker's old headshots, I also had one of Sean Gunn and Jeffrey Dean Morgan.  I had planned on getting Sean's autograph on Saturday, but since Rooker’s headshots had gone over so well earlier, I decided to go ahead and show Sean's to him then.  After running back out to the car to get his headshot, we were off to see Seanie.  

There wasn’t anyone at his table when we got back so I went right up to him with no hesitation, which was strange for me.   I hadn’t talked to Sean yet, and I figured I would be extremely nervous.  But just like Rooker, I was completely calm around Sean.  They all really do treat you like old friends.  

When I handed Sean the headshot, he got all excited, too.  Sully came over to look at it and busted out laughing and cracked some jokes about Sean's shirt.  Sean then hollered over at Rooker and held it up so Rooker could see.  Rooker said, “OMG!  You got one, too?!”  Sean talked to me a little about his resume, too, and then asked if he could take a picture of it with his phone.  Of course, I was like “Absolutely!”  After he got his picture of his headshot, he came around the table and took some selfies with me.  I then pulled out my phone and showed him my dog dressed as James Gunn from Halloween last year.  I asked him if remembered Gunn sharing the picture, but he didn’t.  I showed him my other dog dressed as Kraglin, too.  He loved it!  Especially his little mohawk.

We talked some more, and he kept saying how cool his headshot was and asked if I wanted him to sign it.  He ended up signing it “To my friend, *my name*, I ❤️this! Sean Gunn”.  Sean was an absolute sweetheart and I love him and I hope I get to see him again someday!

Chris Sullivan’s table was next.  I hadn’t really budgeted in anything for Sully, but he was only charging 30$ for a selfie, and I thought “Hey, you only live once.”  I’m so glad I did.  Sully was a complete teddy bear!  He was so sweet!  And talllll!  

We walked over, and I apologized for not having a headshot for him to sign.  He laughed and showed us his headshot on his phone again.  Then he realized he hadn’t introduced himself and stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Chris.”  I shook his hand and told him my name, and then my friend did the same.  My friend and I have the same name only with different spellings.  Once introductions were made, Sully spent the next few minutes hilariously trying to figure out the correct spelling of my name.  He never did get it right.  I haven’t really seen a lot of Sully's roles, but he gained a lifelong fan that day.

After meeting Sean and Sully, we decided to call it a day.  I couldn’t wait to see what day two had in store.

Fandemic Houston Day 2 – September 15, 2018

Just like the morning before, I was already awake when my alarm went off.  I had a reeeeally cool thing to show Rooker, and the anticipation was damn near killing me.  

We had to get to the convention center fairly early that morning.  Rooker's panel was at 11:30 a.m., and I was hoping to get to visit him before his panel started.  When we got to his booth, however, he wasn't scheduled to be at his table until after his panel.  So, we just walked around a little until it was time to go upstairs to the panel room.

With our Rooker VIPs, we got really good seats at his panel.  We were close to the stage, even though I knew he wouldn't be up there long.  

While we waited for his panel to start, I was in a bit of a panic.  If you’ve ever seen or been to a con panel, you know that usually the Q&A session is done by fans lining up at a microphone to ask their questions to the celebs on stage.  If you’ve ever seen or been to a Rooker panel, you know he doesn’t play by those rules.  He comes to you, whether you have a question or not!  I was sitting on the end of the aisle, a prime position for Rooker to stop and talk to me during the Q&A.  And I had no idea what I would ask him if he did.

I checked in with the Rooker Hookers online and asked them for any help they could give me to come up with a good question.  It wasn't that I was nervous to ask Rooker a question, it was just I didn’t want to ask him one in front of all these people.  If I was prepared, I wouldn’t be as embarrassed.

The Rooker Hookers all had really good suggestions, but some of them involving Rooker removing various articles of clothing, propositions more suited for an “after-dark" kind of Q&A.  I love those guys.  That's another one of my favorite things about Rooker.  Being a part of his fandom has brought me together with people literally all over the world via Tumblr and Facebook.  And everyone I’ve met has been awesome.  And a special shout out to the Rooker Hookers for making me laugh over and over again, understanding my complete and utter Rooker obsession, for accepting me for who I am and being there for me even when we’re not talking about Rooker.  I’m proud to call them my friends.

Rooker's panel was awesome as I knew it would be.  He talked a lot about Henry and Merle.  He ran around the audience answering questions about Yondu and Mallrats and flexed his biceps and even sang a little.  My favorite, though, were his stories of what he was like as a kid and growing up in Chicago.  At the end of his panel, he broke the rules once again and threw Hershey Kisses out to the audience after the powers that be told him not to throw anything.  They shoulda known Rooker plays by his own rules.  He is a livewire and an endless fireball of energy.  He’s an absolute riot, and I'm so thankful I got to witness him in action at a panel.  

When the panel was over and once we made it back through the security checkpoint, we headed back to Rooker's booth.  I was so freaking excited to show him what I was holding in my hands.  

His helper said hello and hole-punched my VIP lanyard for another autograph.  I walked up to Rooker and said, “I'm back, Rooker, look what I got.”  I sat down his screen worn Bud Melks orange coveralls from The Belko Experiment on the table.  He said, “Oh, honey, let me sign those for you.”  He didn’t realize they were his.  I said, “These are the ones you wore in the movie.”  

“These are the ones I wore in the movie?”  He seemed genuinely surprised.  I told him yep and showed him the little nametag on the inside collar that read “Bud 2”.  He said, “Omg, that’s so cool, where did you get these?”  I explained to him where I got them and that it also came with his t-shirt, jeans, and boots, too.  He asked if I wanted him to sign them.  I did, but it would be even better if I got him to put them on.

“Yeah, if you want to.   Orrrr, you could cosplay as Bud today,” I joked.

He chuckled. “I could cosplay as Bud today?  Ommgg.  Yeah, I could.  Or you could cosplay as Bud.”  

I shook my head no and grinned.  “Nooo, I don’t cosplay,” I replied.  (I’m waaay too shy and self-conscious to cosplay.)

He leaned back on his stool, threw his head back and laughed.  Rooker's laugh is one of my favorite things on this planet.  And making him laugh was one of the greatest feelings in the world.    

About that time, Sean's helper came over and took a picture of Rooker holding the coveralls up.  She thought they were really cool, too.  Rooker asked her, “Where's, Sean?  He's gotta see these.”  But Sean was still in the green room.  

The coveralls have a huge rip on the backside so of course I had to know why.  I was kidding around with Rooker and asked him, “What did you to ‘em?”  He said, “Let's see,” as he unfolded them.

When he found the rip, he said, “Oh, oh, I squatted, and they ripped.  Yeah, I squatted down, and they ripped.  Like, when I was squatting down doing the door, they ripped.  My whole bottom ripped out.  And I was like, ‘Thank God the camera was on my face ‘cause if it was on my ass end my underwears would be showing.”  We all burst into laughter.  

We chatted a little bit more and he asked me again if I wanted him to sign them.  I told him, “If you want to, yeah.”  

“Where do you want me to put it?   I’m gonna sign ‘em for you.  You don’t have to pay, ok?”

I told him that I had already paid, though.  He said, ”Oh, it was part of your VIP?” We then decided the best place for him to sign the coveralls was on the front pocket.  He signed his name and said, “Bud, right?”  I told him yes it was Bud, and he wrote Bud under his signature.  Then he asked his helper to hand him the 8X10 of Bud he had available for autographs.  

“Do we have one?  Gimme that photo of Belko.  I’m gonna give her a photo with this.  This totally deserves a photo with this."  

He took the photo and started signing his name.  

“Here, all yours, baby.  Here, I'm gonna put it like this.”  He signed the pocket on Bud's coveralls in the picture the same exact way he signed the coveralls.  He then held the picture next to the coveralls and said, “There, looks just like it."  He busted out laughing and said, “That's for you.  Thank you, honey.  Oh my goodness.”  He threw his hand up for a high-five.  I thanked him and high-fived him back.

Trust me, I was elated for the handshakes and high-fives so far.  (His hands are so soft by the way).  But I was itching to get a hug.  I didn’t know how many more chances I would get so I decided to just go for it. “Can I get a hug, Rooker?  I gotta get a famous Rooker hug.”  He hollered, “Get over here woman!  Get over here!  Give me a big hug, love.”

I walked behind his table and gave him a big hug and told him I'd see him later.  He grabbed my hand as I walked away and said, “You're awesome, honey!”  He didn’t let go of my hand as I told him that he makes me forget things and that I had another present for him but I had forgotten it in my car.  He laughed and then he caught my friend recording the whole thing on her phone.  He grinned and said, “Heyyyy, no video…”  Busted.  But he didn’t care.

After leaving Rooker, we had just enough time to scarf down some lunch and then head to Sean and Sully’s panel.  When the panel started, the doors opened and there they were waiting on the other side.  They had stolen a golf cart and hilariously failed at trying to drive it into the room for their grand entrance.  So, Sully simply threw the golf cart in reverse, they both said “byyyyye” and he drove back down the hallway.  A few seconds later they both came back in the room, Sully at a sprint which carried him around the entire audience and Sean walking slowly behind to the stage, announcing he was too old to run.  Sully ended his dash with a Rooker-esque roll onto the stage, stood up and took a bow.  

Their panel was amazing, too.  They were both so, so funny.  They talked a lot about Guardians and even threw in the story about Rooker mooning Dave and Pom on set, which led Sully into a comical conversation about mooning in general.  They made me laugh so freakin’ hard.  If you ever get the chance, definitely go to their panels.  You won’t be disappointed.

We had planned on going to the Smallville panel a little later, but the line getting in the room was insane.  I used to watch Smallville back in the day, but I had no idea how huge the fandom still is.  It was pretty impressive.  Because of the crowd, we decided to skip the panel and go see Rooker again.  

We ran out to the car to get Rooker’s gift and then headed to his booth.  I also made sure to bring the Belko coveralls again so Rooker could show Sean.  I guess everyone was at the Smallville panel because the con floor was pretty empty.  I was kind of glad.  Hopefully, that meant I’d get to talk to Rooker for a good bit of time.

When we got there, his helper laughed and said, “You’re back, again?  And with another gift?”  I smiled and said yes.  She joked, “You gotta stop buying him shit.  He’s doing alright, you know.” I joked back, “I know, but I love him.”  She understood though.  I mean how can you not love Rooker?

About that time the fan talking with Rooker walked away, and I stepped up to him at the table.  His helper announced to him, “She's back with another gift.  She's like your sugar mama.”  Rooker grinned that sexy Rooker grin and said, “Hey, Sugar Mama!” I joked, “Yeah, I’ll be your sugar mama.  What you want?  Anything?  You need some more coffee?  I’ll go get you some coffee.”   He busted out laughing, and I handed him his gift.

I had gotten him a blue shot glass made from a 30mm shell casing that had been shot from an A-10 Warthog plane.  I had it engraved with Michael “Yondu” Rooker on the side.  I’m pretty sure he loved it!  I had left it in the clear packaging, and he immediately ripped it open and lowered his glasses so he could read it better.  I...saw...his...eyes...y’all.  In person.  Not hidden behind sunglasses.  Don’t laugh.  It was a very big moment for me.  

He leaned over towards me on the table on his elbows and kept saying how cool the shot glass was and how he couldn’t wait to drink some whiskey out of it.  He asked me how much whiskey I thought it would hold.  I laughed and said I have no idea.  

We talked some more and he thanked me and came around the table to give me another hug, this time trying to include my friend.  She sort of backed away trying to give me all the glory of Rooker’s hug, but he pulled her in anyway.  It was somewhat of an awkward, sideways hug, but I didn’t care.  A Rooker hug is a Rooker hug!  His arm ended up kind of across my neck right under my chin so I reached up and grabbed his arm as I hugged him.  I...touched...his...bicep.  It was..um..very nice.

When he pulled away from me, Sully walked over holding up an 8X10 of what I believe was of himself that someone had written on and showed it to Rooker.  When Rooker read it he about fell on the floor laughing.  He said, “Now, now, that’s nothing to be ashamed of!”  He snatched the picture out of Sully’s hand and laid it on Sean’s table and began writing on it, too, laughing the whole time.  Rooker’s helper asked if we had seen what was written on it.  I had been trying not to be nosy, so I hadn’t.  We told her no, and she said, “It said ‘When is the right time to talk to your doctor about erectile dysfunction.”  My friend and I started laughing.

I turned back to Sean’s table, and Rooker was still writing on the picture saying, “There’s nothing wrong with erectile dysfunction!”  Sean and I made eye contact and busted out laughing.  Rooker then turned and walked back towards me with a huge grin, looked me right in the eye, and said, “There’s nothing wrong with a little erectile dysfunction...well, I mean there is something wrong with it, but...” He trailed off into a mischievous giggle.  Y’all, I had never laughed so hard in my life.  

When he realized I was holding the Belko coveralls, he immediately took them from me and whirled around to show Sean.  “Sean, look what she has!”  Sean came around his table and said, “Whoaaa, are those the real ones?”  Rooker told him yes and explained how I got them and then held them up to show Sean the big rip in the back which made Sean laugh.  Sean thought they were really neat, too.

Rooker came back over to me and was folding the coveralls up and said, “These are really beautiful.  You know, not a lot of these exist.  Thank you for bringing them to show me.”  I told him they were my prized possession (which is the truth... they really are the coolest thing I own).  He said, “C’mere, baby, you get a double hug!”  He gave me another huge hug, this one a little longer than the first, and a little bit of my hair got caught in his scruff as I pulled away.  I’m sure he didn’t even notice, but I certainly did.  That scruff...

We walked back over to his table so I could get my bag.  I had made a little drawstring bag specifically to wear at Fandemic to haul stuff around in.  It says “I’m lost.  If found, please return to Michael Rooker”.   I showed it to him and he laughed really hard and gave me a high-five and said, “I love it!  You’re so great.”  We then said our goodbyes for the moment and off I went again.

That afternoon I had my Dixon Bros. photo op.  While we were waiting in line, Rooker came over to the Photo Ops area and saw a family with a little baby boy in a stroller nearby.  He made a beeline straight to the baby.  The little boy pointed up to the ceiling and blabbered away at Rooker.  Rooker looked up to the ceiling, too, and said, “OoooOooh,” and acted surprised at whatever imaginary thing the baby was pointing at.  Rooker then baby-talked to him for a minute and tickled the little boy’s tummy before he left to go behind the curtain.  Y’all, it was the sweetest thing I’ve ever witnessed. 

When it came time for photos, as soon as I got behind the curtain, Rooker said, “Get over here, baby,” and again grabbed my arm and pulled me in between him and Norman Reedus.  When I went to put my arms around them, my arm got caught on the bottom of Rooker's jacket, and I accidentally lifted it up about a third up his back.  I heard him make this little chuckling sound as I fumbled to free my arm from underneath his jacket, my hand unintentionally rubbing his back.  I’m not sure he knew what I was going for because the next thing I knew, he started rubbing my back.  For the entire time.  Even after the photo was taken and I was walking away, his hand was still rubbing on my back.  Let me tell you, a Rooker backrub is everything you would imagine it to be, but at that moment, I was just a tad embarrassed.  And my face in the photo pretty much showed it.  But, oh well.  If that was the only way I was ever going to get a Rooker backrub then it was worth it.

After the Dixon Bros. photo op, I went to go see Michael Rosenbaum who was super nice, too.  I paid for a selfie, and he said, “Ohh, lemme take it!”  I handed my phone over to him for what I thought would be just one picture.  He wouldn’t stop taking pictures of us though, and one picture turned into a comical mini-photo shoot.  Each time I thought it would be the last picture he would take so my facial expression changes to a higher state of silliness with each one.  They’re hilarious, but let’s just say very few people have seen those pictures.

Day two was drawing to a close, and I decided that I might go see Rooker one more time before we left.  We walked over to his booth which was empty at the moment.  He was standing there eating chocolate covered pretzels and watching an artist drawing portraits of Harry Potter characters across the way.  Anyone that knows Rooker knew what he was about to do next.  

Rooker left so fast from his booth that he dropped a pretzel on the ground.  He went directly over to the artist and asked him to play Santana over his speaker, jokingly rushing him along when the artist couldn’t find a Santana song quick enough.  Rooker then grabbed a colored pencil and began to draw on the picture the artist had been working on.  

Rooker messed around with the artist a couple more minutes before he returned to his booth.  He took the time to take a few pictures with some fans that had gathered around, joked with the little kids, and danced to the songs the artist was still playing before he finally left for the day.  I didn’t get to talk to him again, but just watching him dancing was enough for me.

When we were headed back to the car that afternoon, I told my friend, “I can’t remember ever being this happy before.  Seriously, these last two days have been the best days of my life.”  I’m like a lot of people in that I struggle with depression and anxiety and self-image and the feeling that I’ll never be good enough.  But with Rooker, he makes all that disappear.  I don’t think he’ll ever realize how much he means to me and how important he is in my life.  

Fandemic Houston Day 3 – September 16, 2018

I had been awake since 4 a.m. on day three.  I couldn’t wait to see Rooker, but I couldn’t stop thinking that this was going to be my last day with him.  I didn’t want the weekend to end.

I spent the early morning hours before my alarm rang making a detailed schedule and an even more detailed script in my head of all the things I wanted to say to him before the con closed at 4 p.m.  I still had my two solo photo ops with him, too, and one last gift to give him.  More importantly, I wanted to make sure I got the chance to tell him thank you and goodbye before I left.   And I had to fit it all in between getting my Jeffrey Dean Morgan autograph and photo op.

It was about 10:15 a.m. when we got to the NRG center that morning.  I was hoping I'd get to talk to Rooker first thing.  I had one last picture for him to sign, which had something to do with a special request for our photo op.  He wasn’t at his booth when we finally got inside, though, so I decided to get in Jeffrey Dean’s line to get his autograph about 10:30 a.m.  

A fairly big crowd had already gathered for Jeffrey Dean.  But my Rooker photo ops weren’t until 1 p.m. and my Jeffrey Dean op was at 2:10 p.m.  I figured I would have plenty of time to see Rooker before our photo ops.  

We were again standing in the perfect spot to watch all the celebs come out from behind the curtain.  A little after 11 a.m. they all started to trickle out.  And, y’all, when Rooker finally walked out?  Dayuuumm, daddy.  He wasn’t sporting his usual leather jacket paired with a black or navy or white v-neck t-shirt look.  He wore a black button-up shirt with the collar unbuttoned low and looked sexy...as…hell.  I mean the man always looks sexy as hell, but...well, y’all know what I mean.  I immediately checked in with the Rooker Hookers and told them Rooker’s wardrobe choice for the day.  Again, don’t laugh.  I just get excited when he switches things up.  

We were still waiting in Jeffrey Dean's line when they made a huge announcement around 11:30 a.m.  Norman Reedus had to leave the con early.  All the Walking Dead photo ops had to be bumped up.  I started to panic a little.  

My Jeffrey Dean photo stayed at 2:10 p.m., but Rooker and Norman were supposed to have Dixon Bros. photo ops at 3:25 p.m.  The con closed at 4 p.m. so I figured Rooker would probably be leaving right after.  But I had to tell Rooker goodbye before we left.  I just had to.  Now I was afraid with all the photo ops being bumped around I wouldn’t get to.

Noon came and Jeffrey Dean's line had hardly moved.  He had only been out at his table for maybe 45 minutes or so and now his time would be even more limited because the photo ops had to be moved up.  His line was so long that they ended up bumping the people who had pre-purchased an autograph up in line. That included me.  Whew.  We had gotten closer but were still so far away.  The minutes were counting down until my Rooker photo ops.  I was a nervous wreck.  If I stayed in Jeffrey Dean's line, I would be cutting it reaaaally close.  

I left my friend in line and went to explain my situation to one of the Fandemic workers nearby.  I told him I had Rooker photo ops at 1 p.m. and if I didn’t make it up to Jeffrey Dean would I be able to get a refund for his autograph.  I didn’t want to get a refund.  I love Jeffrey Dean and had been looking forward to meeting him and getting his autograph.  But I couldn’t miss my Rooker photo ops.  That was completely out of the question.  The worker looked at his watch and told me that I would make it, but if it got too close, he would move me up in line.  That made me feel a little better.  

I got back in line, but I couldn’t stop checking my phone for the time.  I really needed to show Rooker the picture I wanted him to autograph before our photo ops.  The minutes were ticking away and the line was barely moving.  Finally, about 12:30 p.m., I left my friend again in line and went to go see Rooker.

I went over to Rooker's table and paid his helper for another autograph.  She asked if I wanted to pick out a picture, but I told her I already had one.  She said, “Ooh, can I see?”  I showed her and told her it was my all-time favorite picture of Rooker, and I was hoping I could get him to do the same pose for our photo op.  She loved it and told me that he had done a similar pose the day before.  Aaah, there was a chance.

I walked up to Rooker holding the picture against me so he couldn’t see it right away.  I asked him, “Will you sign one more thing for me?  I was also wondering if you’d reenact it for our photo op today.”  He just grinned and said, “It depends.  Lemme see it.”  At that moment, I was so glad there wasn’t anyone else around.  I had no idea what his reaction would be.

I told him it was my all-time favorite picture of him and handed it over.  He instantly busted out laughing when he saw what it was.  In the picture Rooker has his shirt lifted, one hand pointing to his nipple and a ginormous smile on his face.  He asked me where I even got it.  I told him I found it on the internet.  I reminded him about one of the Rooker Hookers meeting him and having him sign his naked ass from Mallrats.  He laughed and said he remembered that.  “I’m just carrying on the tradition of having you sign off the wall pictures,” I said.  

He told me that he doesn’t normally sign pictures like that, but for me, he would.  While he signed it, I told him that I had two photo ops with him and that they couldn’t be the same and asked him again if he would do that same pose for one of them.  He laughed and said no.  Then he took off his glasses completely to look at the picture more closely.  I...saw...his...eyes again for a long time.  He was trying to remember where the picture was taken and what the hell he was doing.  He said the glasses he was wearing were his old ones and that he didn’t have them anymore and the shirt he had on was his old Harley Davidson shirt.  I was too embarrassed to tell him I knew the picture was taken at James Gunn’s old house.  I was afraid yet again that he would think I was a batshit crazy stalker.  

We talked about the picture a little more and then he looked up at me laughing and said, “You dork.”  Rooker called me dork.  Out of all the things he called me that weekend “dork” was definitely my favorite.  I begged him one more time to do that pose for our photo.  He just laughed and shook his head and said, “No.” again.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get to talk to him very much longer because I had to hurry to get back in line for Jeffrey Dean so I told Rooker I’d see him later.

My friend hadn’t made it very far when I joined her back in line.  By then it was pushing 12:40 p.m.  I was starting to get nervous again.  I only had 20 minutes left until Rooker photos, and the line was...moving...so...slow.  

About 12:55 p.m., there were only three people ahead of me in line.  Jeffrey Dean was right there.  Surely I would make it in time.  He finished visiting with the fan he was talking to, and I heard him tell one of his handlers that he needed to take a break.  Uh oh.  Panic mode.  I went up to his other handler and explained that I had Rooker photo ops at 1:00 p.m. which was in three minutes.  She said, “Ok, no problem.”  She went up to Jeffrey Dean and told him my dilemma.  I felt horrible cutting in line, but I got to meet him real quick before he went on his break.  

He gave me a huge hug when I went up to him.  (Jeffrey Dean gives amazing hugs by the way and is one of the nicest human beings I’ve ever met.  Annnnd even sexier...as...hell in person).  I handed him the headshot I had of him and he said, “Oh, fuuuuck, this is awesome!”   I said, “You were a baby.  Lookit you.”  He said, “I was a baby!”  He then turned it over to look at his resume, and was like “Whooa, this is a loooong time ago!  You know awhile back when everyone was sharing their first headshots for “Headshot Day” on Instagram and shit, I didn’t have one.  I shoulda called you.”  That would be the dream I thought.  I snickered and said, “Uh, yeaaah, you totally could have called me!”  He laughed and we talked some more about his headshot.  Then he asked me if I wanted him to sign it to me or just with his name.  I told him that he could put my name if he wanted and he personalized his autograph for me.  I told him “thank you” and he said, “Oh, you’re very welcome and it’s nice to meet you.” He gave me another huge, extra-tight hug, and said, “Tell Rooker I said ‘hey’,” as I told him bye.  Gahhh, I’m still gushing over Jeffrey Dean, too!

After I left Jeffrey Dean, we booked it over to the photo op line.  We were a few minutes late, but luckily Rooker hadn’t made it over there yet so the photo ops hadn’t actually started.  A few minutes later Rooker came over and went behind the curtain.  He was holding some sort of arrow thingy? With a bullet on the end?  I still have no idea what it was.

When I got behind the curtain for our photos, Rooker pulled me to him and I put my arm around his lower back right above his waist.  His shirt was so silky, and I could feel his lil’ love handles. Swoon.  He put his arm over my shoulder and kind of threw his head back with a smug look on his face for the first photo.  The Rooker Hookers say it was his “Yeah, this is my Sugar Mama” pose.  I’m not sure if that’s what he was going for, but I like that idea.

After the photographer took the first photo, Rooker went to tell me thank you like he had done the previous days.  I told him though that I had two photo ops.  (I had told my friend that if she would go with me to Fandemic I would buy all the tickets, and she didn’t want to take any pictures so I used the photo op that came with her VIP ticket).  He said, “Oh, you have two?”  I shook my head yes and replied, “What are we gonna do, Rooker?  They can’t be the same.”  He looked at me, thinking for a second, and then grabbed my necklace.  I have a necklace with a little silver bullet on it (or I did...it broke like two weeks after Fandemic.)  He held the bullet in his fingers and said, “You show off your bullet, I’ll show mine,” meaning the little arrow thingy he was holding.  So, I held up the bullet on my necklace and he held out the arrow thing for the second picture.  I personally never would have thought up that pose, but it made him laugh and that’s all that mattered to me.  And I got another short bonus Rooker backrub as we said goodbye.  

A little while later, I had my photo op with Jeffrey Dean.  He gave me a big hug for our picture.  I’m horrible at taking pictures, but that one actually turned out the best out of all the ops I had that weekend.

After Jeffrey Dean, it was pretty much time to go.  As much as I didn’t want to, it was time to go see Rooker for the last time and tell him goodbye.  

Rooker had an 8X10 of Sean as Kraglin and was drawing various funny things all over Sean’s face while casually talking to a fan who I’m assuming had met him before when we got to his table.  I wasn’t trying to be nosy I promise, but I could hear a little of what they were talking about.  At one point, the guy mentioned Rooker’s hair and how much he had grown it out.  He asked him if it was for a specific reason, like for a movie or something.  Rooker told the guy that his granddaughter had actually asked him to grow his hair out so he would have long, pretty hair like her.  My heart = melted.  He then said that it wasn’t working.  It was making him worse.  You’re wrong, Rooker.  Seriously, I don’t think you can get any more perfect.

While Rooker was still diligently drawing on Sean’s picture and talking to the fan, another guy walked up and asked his handler if Rooker was in Cliffhanger.  The handler said yes.  The guy said, “Oh man, I knew it!  I can still hear your voice!  Like when your lady fell in the beginning.”  Without even looking up, Rooker said, “That fuckin’ bitch!  I knew what she was doing up there with Stallone!” and then laughed.  

When it was my turn, I went up to him and asked, “Are you sick of me yet?”  He said, “Noooo.”  I told him I had one last thing to give him, and it was kind of a dumb one, but all my friends told me I had to give it to him.  I said, “Do you remember when James called you Winnie the Pooh in that one post?”  He said, “Yeah.”  I plopped down a little stuffed Pooh Bear in front of him on the table.  Pooh was dressed in black and white prison stripes with a ball and chain on his leg.  The patch on his shirt said “Prisoner of Love".  Rooker laughed and said, “Aww, this is for me?”  I told him yes, and that I knew it was kinda stupid and I don't normally go around giving grown men stuffed animals.  “You're actually the only grown man I've ever given a stuffed animal to,” I said to him.  He laughed again, and said, “Well, I actually love stuffed animals.”

He immediately took the tag off of Pooh's ear and then held him up towards one of his helpers and the couple of people in line at the end of the table and made Pooh “growl" at them.  He then turned to the handler standing right next to him, shoved the little bear right in the guy’s face and made Pooh wave and said, “Fuck you, bitch!” in a goofy, high-pitched voice.  

He made himself laugh, that silent kind of Rooker laugh where his head is thrown back and his mouth is wide open, his whole face lit up, and came around his table to give me a hug.  Then....it happened.  The single greatest moment of my life.  

With his smile never fading, he grabbed my face in his hands and kissed me on the cheek, an added “mwah” for sound effect.  

Time froze.  I could feel his fingers in my hair.   His scruff rough against my face.  I couldn’t believe what was happening.  My brain ceased to function properly, and I went into survival mode, struggling to simply form words.

As soon as it happened, my brain took that script that I had made up in my mind early that morning, ripped it up into a thousand little pieces, tossed them in the air, and screamed, “Haha, time to improv, bitch!”  I could no longer remember a single thing that I had wanted to talk to him about.

I was stunned.  I was in a daze.  For the first time that entire weekend I was speechless.  

My friend chimed in very quickly to save me.  “You should show him your dogs!”  As he still stood next to me, he said, “Oh, you have dogs?!”  He sounded way more excited than I would have thought he’d be to see my dogs.  I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone.  But Rooker had broken my brain.  I was in auto-pilot mode, and I was forgetting a major detail.  

It wasn’t until I hit the home button to turn my phone on that I remembered one of Rooker’s Skillset photos is my lock screen and a picture of him laughing on the set of Brother’s Keeper is my home screen.  OMG!!!  

I freaked out a little and playfully pushed him away.  “Oh, don’t look at my phone, Rooker!  You’re on it!”  It was too late.  He had already seen it.  He backed away laughing and said, “Oooh, girl, you makin’ me look sexxxy!”  I’m sure my face was red as a tomato at that moment.

My Instagram account was the quickest way to get to pictures of my dogs, so I pulled up the app.  Rooker was so close to me.  We were standing shoulder to shoulder, our arms were touching, him looking at my phone the entire time.  It didn’t occur to me until much later that I know he saw everything on my Instagram:  my IG name which is basically the same as my Tumblr, my icon which is him, my description that says I’m obsessed with him, the memes I’ve made of him.  

I opened up the picture of my dog as James Gunn.  Rooker pulled down his sunglasses to look.  He didn’t remember Gunn sharing that picture either last Halloween, but he did say Bruce was a beautiful dog.  Then I showed him the “Rooker vs. Rooker: Grumpface Edition” meme I had made of Rooker and my dog.  I pointed to my dog and said, “That’s Rooker.”  He turned and looked right at me.  A few seconds after we made eye contact, he busted out laughing.  It was my favorite kind of Rooker laugh, the Rooker laugh where he’s trying so hard not to laugh and is grinning but holding his mouth closed until he can’t take it anymore and just lets it go.  Rooker loved my dog.  He said, “Omg!”, gave me a fist bump, then grabbed my phone, walked over to his handler and shoved my phone in his face to show him.    

When Rooker handed me my phone back, he hugged me again and then held up his hands for a double high-five.  I high-fived him, but this time he didn’t let my hands go.  He let our hands fall down together, our fingers interlocked.  He kept them that way the whole time I talked to him.  I never wanted that moment to end.  

I then told him that we had to get back on the road to Louisiana, and I just wanted to tell him goodbye before we left.  I said, “Thank you, Rooker.  For everything.  For putting up with me all weekend.  This has seriously been the best three days of my life.”  He held out his arms and said, “Awww, c’mere, baby.”  He hugged me again, and I laid my head against his chest.  It was the longest and the tightest hug he had given me so far, and I made sure to pay attention to every little detail:  the cool, silky feel of his shirt on my face, the smell of mint, the way his back felt under my hands.  I could have stayed there forever.  When we finally let go, he said, “Thank you for coming to see me.  Y’all drive safe,” and we said goodbye.

And with that, I walked away.  It was over.  Our “see you tomorrows" had become our final goodbye.  It was all so bittersweet leaving through those convention doors for the last time.  Over three days, Rooker had high-fived me, fist bumped me, called me pet names, held my hands, hugged and kissed me.  I had made him laugh more than once.  He had made me melt 100 times over.  I know I was lucky to have had such an amazing experience with him, and I couldn’t have been happier.  But knowing that there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow with him made me terribly…sad.

I had spent almost a year saving for Fandemic.  It wasn’t cheap, but I had done a lot of photo ops and gotten a lot of autographs and had the time of my life.  I had justified spending so much money by telling myself that this was more than likely a once-in-a-lifetime thing, and I’d probably never get to see Rooker again.  After that weekend, I knew I couldn’t let that happen.  I've already started saving for my next con.  That man means the world to me, and I don’t know where or when (hopefully sometime really soon), but I have to go see him again.

So that’s it.  For the ones that made it this far, that's the story of my little Fandemic adventure, my getting “Rookered" for the very first time, the best three days of my life.  Michael Rooker is the most humble, nicest, most generous, funniest, silliest, best hugs in the world givin’, sweetest person I’ve ever met.  He’s charming as hell, not to mention the sexiest man alive.  There’s a reason he’s my favorite person on earth.  There are not enough words to describe how much I love that man, and I truly hope everyone gets to meet him someday.  

The end.

And, p.s., my new windshield wipers are still going strong 😜.

[phanfluffs]

And so they did

PROMPT: soulmate au where the first thing your soulmate says is tattooed on your arm, however, both dan and phils tattoos are in a foreign language that they don’t understand (as in they don’t speak the same language)

(prompt from @phanfic)

WORDS: 1785

(WARNINGS/TRIGGERS) none, as far as im concerned, though the quickest mention of abusive ever, right at the start. a few nervous/down thoughts I guess?

GENRE: fluff :)

(AUTHORS NOTE) im popping the oneshot cherry, presenting you with this, looking for some followers on here, @phanfucks , ao3 agnesisacunt, ff.net agnesfandoms, and my wattpad ineedfiction. also my ig danisabear but whatevs really. also this is kinda short dan bc he’s only seventeen at this point. anyway. enjoooooooooooooooooooy :)) also feedback helps the flowers grow

~~~

(Phil’s pov)

Philip Lester lived in a world where people had ‘soul-quotes’. That was the name of the little thing that was written on your arm from birth, the first thing your soulmate would say to you. Some people found their soulmates when they were just 7, some people even had to wait fifty years, and some never got their soulmate. Maybe they never met, maybe their soulmate was mean or abusive, or maybe they didn’t have a mark, or their soulmate had a mark for another person.

Soulmates didn’t have to be relationships, more often than not they were, but they could be friendships too.

The thing with Phil’s soul-quote? It was in danish. ‘Undskyld, men tog du lige et billede af mig?’ what?? He’d once tried looking it up on google translate, the sentence ‘sorry, but did you just take a picture of me?’ didn’t make any sense back then, but now, as a photography student, it kind of did. Kind of.

It was all very exciting though, him having a soulmate from a different country, while all his friends just had british soulmates. Phil also may have kind of dreamed about his soulmate finding Phil’s slight british accent hot.

But currently, he was more excited than ever. He was going to Denmark with his photography class at uni, because every year a country to go to was chosen by the students of the class, they’d have five options, and Phil may have convinced 13 people to choose Denmark. They would arrive at Copenhagen airport in about 45 minutes, use the rest of the day to get settled in, get right in to photography monday morning, and then take the train to a city in jytland called Aarhus on tuesday evening, where they’d spend three more days. Phil was ecstatic. Even at 8 o’clock on a sunday morning, he’d never been more excited.

~~~

The first day of Copenhagen was unsuccesful. He’d tried to speak to as many people as possible, even walking into some on purpose (do. not. ask). But no one said anything that could sound even a little bit like the thing he had on his lower right arm, in a squiggly writing - his soulmates writing. It’d taken several of Phil’s family members to figure out the letters, and it just made it all the more difficult that it was in a foreign language.

Phil was dead-set to try again tomorrow.

~~~

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He’d gotten a few ‘undskyld’s, but that was more or less it.

Now he was on the train to jytland, at 7:47 p.m., going through the pictures he’d taken of The Round Tower, Amalienborg Palace, a few birds, dogs, flowers, and people.

“Seem a little down, Phil? Didn’t find them today either?” Asked Camille, one of his friends, sounding like she felt rather sorry for him. Most of the people he knew, including her, had already found their soulmate, some were married, some not. Phil was the oldest person he himself knew who hadn’t found his soulmate yet. He was 22 for god’s sake. The most common age to find your soulmate was around 17. How long would he have to wait?

“Nah, I didn’t, unfortunately.” he answered. He got a few pats on the back with the people he sat with at that, but none of them really knew what to say, which was understandable.

“You’re gonna find them, promise.” said Mike, who was also Phil’s cousin’s soulmate. “Thanks man, anyway, did you guys get some good pics?” he asked.

“Yeah, I got one from the top of the Round Tower with a really nice view, also one of a dog with it’s owners sitting at a fountain. What about you guys?” said Mike, and so they continued talking until they had to get off the train.

~~~

First day of Aarhus? No luck. Phil was really fucking hoping that the second day was gonna be better (little did he know, it was).

~~~

Phil, Mike, Camille, Emma, and Damon were walking with each other along the Aarhus Canal, taking different pictures of it, buildings, cafés, dogs, people, and their ‘Baresso’ coffees. Phil had gotten an Ultimative Iceblend with mint, and it tasted like heaven. Camille and Emma had both bought a danish soda called Faxe Kondi, which tasted surprisingly well.

‘Holy-’ Phil couldn’t help himself, quickly putting his camera in front of his right eye and snapping a picture, when he saw the most breath-takingly beautiful boy he was to ever lay his eyes on. He had a brown fringe, sweeping to the left, sparkling brown eyes with little specks of golden and honey in them, and was smiling the brightest of smiles to some of his friends and, oh god, dimples as deep as Phil was in love. He was petting his dog, a black-spotted Grand Danois, and looking at some of his friends, laughing along with them. Well, until he wasn’t, and was suddenly looking at Phil, and oh shit, oh no, he fucking saw me taking a picture of him like some creep.

“Undskyld, men tog du lige et billede af mig?” he said, but of course, Phil didn’t understand shit.

“I-I’m sorry, say that again please? I’m british.” Phil explained with the slightest of embarrassed laughs.

The gorgeous boy looked down at his left arm, taking a couple of seconds before answering, with the most stunning smile ever; “Sorry, but did you just take a picture of me?”

And Phil burst out laughing, in relief, joy, happiness, so many different emotions.

“I- um, yes, yes I did actually.” He chuckled, more or less ignoring all the confused faces around them.

“Yeah? And not just of Bella here?” Pretty boy (also known as Phil’s soulmate, apparently, holy fuck) asked, scratching the big dog, that was more or less in his lap, behind the ear.

Phil chuckled. “Well, as charming as she is, that wasn’t the first thing on my mind.” He replied, smirking slightly at the now blushing boy, and if you asked Phil he’d probably refuse the slight tint on his own cheeks.

“Um, Dan? Hvem er din ven her?” asked a friend of the boy, Dan, as Phil had just discovered. Jesus, that’s a nice name. Is it short for something, maybe? What’s his last name? Phil thought to himself, and yes, he did feel a bit creepy to be honest, but he also knew that these were regular thoughts right after meeting your soulmate.

“Oh. det er- this is-” Dan giggled, not sure what to say since he didn’t kow his soulmate’ name yet, but kinda confused as to how his friends hadn’t caught on yet.

“I’m Phil Lester.” Phil said with a kind smile, reaching his hand out to Dan’ friends. Phil. Dan couldn’t help but let out a small, contented sigh, as his soulmate seemed to be the perfect person.

“Dan Howell.” Dan said at last and reached his hand out to Phil too.

“Howell? Isn’t that an english name?” Phil asked curiously, wanting to know as much about this boy as humanly possible.

“Well yeah, my great-great-grandpa was from Ireland and his son, my great-grandpa, got married to a danish woman who took his name, and so on.” Dan answered, quietly ushering Bella off of his lap so he could stand up before his legs fell asleep. He was about a head shorter than Phil, which was adorable, but would also be the cause of a great amount of neck pain in the future.

“Oh, you’re tall, no fair.” Dan whined and pouted, and Phil laughed, but was cut short by the voice of Camille. “Alright, not-so-wild guess, are you two soulmates?” she asked and when the two boys nodded to her, she couldn’t help but gasp along with Phil’s other friends and pull him into a hug, while some of Dan’ squealed a little and embraced him too, all laughing and congratulating.

“Alright, alright, but Dan how old are you?” asked Emma in a teasing tone. Phil snickered.

“Oh, I’m turning eighteen in June?” he told, not quite knowing why she wanted to know that, until she slapped Phil, exclaiming ‘old man!’. They all laughed at that, though Phil rolled his eyes and snickered again. “I’m twenty-two.” he explained.

Both Phil and Dan’ friends may have all lured off about fifteen minutes after that, but it’s not like the two really noticed. And Phil likes to tell himself that Dan didn’t notice the thirty-one pictures that were taken of him in the coffee shop they sat in for the next two hours, chatting and trying to teach Phil danish, though he probably did. And he probably noticed the twelve Phil took of him as they were walking and sitting beside the canal with Bella too.

~~~

Sadly, Phil couldn’t see Dan almost all friday because Dan still had school for a couple more weeks. That didn’t stop him from talking about him all the time, though. It was quite endearing, to be honest.

When Dan’ school day finally ended, at 1:55 because it was a short day, he and Phil met up right outside of the rather big - yet still much smaller than Phil’ old high school - building, they both smiled from ear to ear.

“Hey.” Dan said breathily.

“Hey.” Phil returned it in the same, slightly awe-struck, tone. “Don’t you guys have to wear uniforms?” he continued, noticing how Dan’ attire was a red-plaid sweatshirt, with the image of a dog and silhouette of a man in the center. Phil learned yesterday that Dan had quite an expensive taste.

“No, not here. When I was younger I always thought it would’ve been cool if we did, but I’m rather relieved now.” they laughed.

“Good. They’re horrific.” Dan laughed even louder at Phil’ words, and Phil could only say that he was proud of that.

“It’s sad that you’re leaving already. In two hours right?” asked the younger of the two, frowning deeply.

“Yeah. I was thinking if you maybe had the time, you could come say goodbye at the airport?” Phil said nervously, though he knew he had no reason to be. Dan smiled again, nodding.

“Yeah. We can exchange skype accounts, social media?” Dan proposed, and Phil nodded.

“Could we exchange a goodbye kiss?” said Phil, teasingly setting his hands on Dan’ waist, making the younger of the two giggle loudly.

“Sure.”

And so they did.

[theturtlebrigade-blog]

hamilton text  head cannons

Alexander Hamilton:

- fucking walls of texts - takes like 10 minutes to reply to a group chat - he addresses at least five points of the conversation in those fucking walls - it’s either that, or the most half assed text ever - he’ll reply if he’s working on something, but the spelling/auto correct messes it up - john is pretty much the only one who can decipher them

John Laurens:

- always revives the dead group chat - he types really fast like woah man -not to mention his spelling is on point - no punctuation tho - he can and will call you the fuck out on your bullshit - will debate in a private chat, leaving for like ten minutes - teams up with peggy

Lafayette:

- curses in french - p much everyones confused except a.ham and tjeffs - john google translates it and gets really confused cuz google translate sucks - multiple!!! exclamation points!! and question marks??? - he has two keyboards on his phone to type quicker (one in french another in english) - will text back immediately dude wtf - actually gets concerned when he’s left on read

Hercules Mulligan:

- sends cute pics and videos to the group chat - mainly of his friends being adorable - he loves these dorks - RaNdOM aNd inCREASED CAPITALIZATION - will try to calm down any debates - fails horribly - relies on john and alex for any translations, either for laf or for alexs huge ass paragraphs - quadruple texting

Eliza Schuyler:

- will send heart eyes emojis right after animal and food pics - says weird stories - actually good puns - *uses astrics to show action* - finger guns - some texts just have punctuation points - has fallen asleep during a skype call before - nobody’s told her yet

Angelica Schuyler:

- sassy af - can and will roast your ass - says language whenever anyone cusses in the group chat to protect her “innocent” sisters - she’s called someone a “stupid conspiracy spawned monkey person from planet of the apes” before and has no regrets and will do it again - she loves those parentheses people like wow - can get lil bit salty at times - will rant - will capitalize the first letter of every word 

Peggy Schuyler:

- memes - like so many memes - she stalks the chat and screen shots things with no context - in cahoots with john - will sometimes say ‘by P!ATD’ or ‘By FOB’ after angelica says a rant with the beginning of every word capitalised - she can and will spam the emoji whale, there is no stopping her - she has made memes for specific situations in the chat - 50% of the time she’s an angel and the other 50% shes the exact opposite - PHOTOSHOP MASTER RIGHT HERE

Maria Reynolds:

- high key flirts with eliza in the group chat - eliza’s fucking clueless and does it right back - LENNY FACES IN THE WRONG SITUATION WITH NO CONTEXT - she sends music videos to the group chat - a+ taste in music everyone really likes the music she provides them - will triple text but with like really short texts - random 3 am shit

Aaron Burr:

- “...” - tries really hard to be unbiased about arguments in the chat - normally takes tjeffs and mads side because they seem to know whats going on and aren’t on a rampage - cannot tell if john/laf/herc/alex are being sarcastic or not - good natured - supposedly peggy’s sweet innocent child - randomly leaves the chat for like 20 minutes only to find everythings gone to shit - “What happened?” - Will leave you on read, but he genuinely doesn’t mean to

Tjeffs:

- will flirt with everybody in the chata as a friend - except madison. he’s actually flirting with madison - “Whaaaaa” - he’ll argue with alex  - eye rolling emoji - is super casual with laf - will rant, but he makes it short - sentences that just kinda  - him and maria are part of the ‘no im flirting with you cuz i love you you blind fool’ squad

James Madison:

- he sends emojis if he’s sick - thermometer means he has a fever - tissue box means he’s sneezing or having nose issues (runny nose, stuffy nose, etc) - pill emoji means “i should probably take medicine” - sick green emoji means “send help im dying” - thomas will leave for the day just to take care of madison                                -  is actually soft                                                                                                    - is the only one that knows whats happening

George Washington:

- pretty much a grandpa when it comes to texting - never uses emojis - takes a while to actually send a message - tries to get everyone to calm the fuck down - dad friend - good punctuation and grammar usage - is easily confused by acronyms - everyone lies to him about the meanings of the acronyms so they don’t get in trouble - whenever he tries to be ‘hip’ about all the typing quirks everyone gets really confused - will unintentionally roast your ass

[avoresmith]

Hair Thoughts

AV I want to do A Cool Thing With My Hair Bu-

DO IT. DO THE COOL HAIR THING*

(*From this point on we will assume I’m talking about people in situations where Doing The Cool Thing Hair will not result in you losing your job, place to live, or for some reason otherwise be dangerous to you, and isn’t about a white person looking to culturally appropriate some other culture’s rad hair styles.)

I have the fortune to live in Seattle where I can do what the fuck ever I want and people will be positive and receptive, and most places of businesses honestly don’t give a shit (I see LOTS of customer service people with Real Sweet Hair.), but I still really often get ‘I want to do X but I’m afraid to for Y reasons’. So let this be a general purpose post of reasons you should do the thing and tips on how to do some of those things.

Your hair grows back

Beauty standards that tell you that you can only look attractive with a certain style of haircut are bullshit

Frankly all notions of ‘bad hair cuts’ are just perspective, but fearing them limits you from having hair you TRULY LOVE

There is an ENTIRE INTERNET full of DIY guides and youtube channels for all manner of self hair care so you can do things relatively cheap.

Yes you’ll fuck up sometimes but good news: hair grows back, and you get better with practice

Bodies are hard, they suck, you can’t always control much about them. You can’t be short if you are tall, other anatomical changes may be possible with a lot of dollars but having a lot of dollars is hard, maintaining weight and muscle mass is a daily struggle and long term commitment. Meanwhile, hair? You can do that shit in a few hours, if you don’t like it you can change it, if you really don’t like it it will fix itself given some time. You can change your mind about how you want it to look every few months, or every day if you get really good at Doing Dos. 

Basically it’s like make up, but with a little more commitment, a little more sticking power, and I (personally) think a lot more ability to empower you to Feel Good About You.

YOUR HAIR GROWS BACK

NOW, I, PERSONALLY. Am white with an undercut and I dye my hair various multihued bright colors on a regular basis: pics here

So I can offer various tips on those things under the cut:

ON BLEACHING

Color won’t take to natural hair very well, though obviously lighter colors will do better. But part of the process of bleaching hair opens up the hair to let color IN, so if you skip this step it fades faster.

Bleaching yourself is honestly real easy. Find some DIY guides, do the thing. 

Bleaching is bleach mixed with volumizer, you can buy ‘bleaching kits’ for specific hair types that give you measurements, or just by powdered bleach and large bottles of volumizer in bulk. I do the latter. 

If your hair is blond to medium brown, don’t use a volumizer higher than 20 for any reason, you can probably get away with using 10. (I use 20).

If your hair is darker than that, research it, but have also used 20 on my friend’s hair and just watched it closely and kept it wet. I’ve used 30 as well but 20 works as long as I keep an eye on it and make sure it stays wet. I can get very dark brown hair to a bright gold with this.

If you have Very Dark Hair and absolutely MUST get like White or Platinum Blond. Dooo your research, do hair tests, find several DIYs specifically targeting your natural hair color AND desired hair color. Possibly save up to have a professional who works specifically with what you want do it the first time, then ask them what products they use/pay a lot of attention so you can repro at home.

Bleach works as long as it’s wet, if you let it dry it stops bleaching your hair and is only poisoning it, keep it moist while it is on, it also works better if warm.

DON’T BLEACH ALREADY BLEACHED HAIR. Don’t do it!!! All of the horror stories about people melting their hair is from either leaving it on way too long or bleaching multiple times. You bleach once, and then you dye, then you let that color wash out until it’s light enough that you can dye again. Just bleach your roots when they come back in and otherwise let it go.

Obviously when you bleach your roots there will be a litttle bit of overlap into already bleached hair, this has never hurt me. If you want to know if your hair can handle a second bleaching google tests for that, but what I’m mostly warning against her is ‘don’t try to bleach the dye out of your hair that is a Bad Plan’.

If you are dying your hair some bright colors with vegetable dyes, bright yellow is totally good enough. If you want to dye your hair like Mint Green you’ll need to get it to a platinum blond THEN tone it to white, which I don’t know anything about other than that it’s more work than I want to deal with, but you can totally google this! There are lots of white hair dye guides on youtube!

ON DYEING

VEGETABLE DYES FADE! No matter how bright and saturated you get them and how hard you try, it will run out. This is fine! You will be MUCH HAPPIER if you go in liking blue and also lighter blue and also blue green and all the different ways you hair can fade than being married to one specific tone that must never budge.

Tho that said, if you are coloring your hair That One Hue, it’s pretty easy to work some dye into your hair washing regimen every couple of weeks to keep the color alive, or mix the dye with your conditioner so every time you condition you’re getting a bit more of the color back in!

Dye fades FASTER from warm water and shampoo

As such, when I am maintaining a color I shampoo every four days with cold water, and when I want to wash it out so I can move on to the next color, I shampoo every other day with warm.

The color will probably never fade entirely, as such once you apply a dye you have basically changed the color of your canvas for future dyes. 

I.E.: The first time you’re going to be putting say, red on yellow, when that fades, maybe you are putting blue on pink, this blue will fade into the pink so you may end up with a pale purple instead of pale blue. 

Some basic color theory helps here. If you dye your hair purple and it fades to pink, don’t put green over it next time. You need to work around the color wheel. So if you put a blue over it and when that fades to a blue/purple you can put a green over it and it will fade to light teal. Don’t put contrasting colors that are gonna gray each other out on top of each other.

Similarly, if you want a PINK CHUNK and a GREEN CHUNK on the same head, you can do that. but when you wash your hair/when the hair is wet, separate them so they don’t bleed into each other. (This isn’t as much trouble as it sounds like, I constantly have contrasting chunks on my head).

You can mix vegetable dyes like paints (that’s basically what they are) to get the color you want. The color you get will usually be a bit lighter and brighter than the dye itself.

I use manic panic, which are about 12 dollars a jar and perfectly fine for me. I haven’t noticed a difference between the jars and the special Amplified version except that the shit in squeeze bottles is way easier to open.

The vast majority of the time, my hair only stains if it is wet, and only for the first week or two. So I sleep on at towel if I go to bed with my hair wet and otherwise don’t worry about it. There has been ONE exception to this, Rockabilly Blue, which will stain my hands if I run them thru my hair too much for the first week after dying.

Color Faves

Manic Panic’s Vampire Red is the Reddest Mc Red Blood Red color of red I’ve found. Other reds tend to be a little more orangy or pinkish or kind of muddy.

Manic Panic’s Rockabilly Blue is the bluest mc blue pure deep bluest blue I’ve found. But see above about the staining.

I use Electric Lizard as a green base a lot, mixed with other darker greens it can have more body to the color but still that bright green sheen that lasts a long time.

That said with the exception of reds sometimes being disappointing, I’ve really never found a color I dislike?

I change my hair color roughly every 6-8 weeks. THe longer you let it fade the easier it is to put a different color on top and have it stick. But dye isn’t bad for your hair, it’s actually a conditioner, so you can change the color basically as often as you want and the only risk of ill effects is creating a muddy color, which you can avoid with basic color theory. 

If you do want to get a color stripped as quickly as possible, just wash regularly with hot water and johnson’s baby shampoo or any shampoo that advertising stripping color and then put something new on top.

Yes, you can also dye back to a ‘normal’ hair color, tho color theory still applies (if you want to go brown, which is orange, and put it over pale blue hair, the resulting color will be a bit grayed out).

NONE OF THE ABOVE APPLIES TO BLACK HAIR, which is REALLY HARD to ever get out, tho I have seen professionals do it.

ON UNDERCUTS

HAIR GROWS BACK!!

Undercuts can be hidden surprisingly easily. In fact, buzzing off the under layer of a hair is one method to help hair lay flat (IE if you want a smooth bob). 

So I have over half of my hair shaven off (right left and back) but if I part it down the middle you can only see the undercut up near my ears.

So if you keep your hair undercut somewhere that you can drop hair over it, you can have an undercut and ‘hide’ it from your workplace or family or whatever pretty easily.

If you have thick hair, undercuts are amazing. I literally will never go back to a full head of hair. I like long hair but I never need that much of it again.

I buzz my hair about once a month to keep it where i’m more or less happy with it. Lots of hair places will advertise like 10$ buzz cuts in the window and take care of that in about five minutes. 

I’ve also recently learned it’s pretty easy to buzz my own hair. It’s not quite as clean as if someone else does it but it’s less effort and money for me.

IDK undercuts aren’t complicated but they are kind of scary. But if you’ve ever wanted to do it, you should do it!! I find it very empowering. Fuck you hair you aren’t the boss of me and you’re soooooo soft and fun to touch when buzzed down.

I think that covers basically everything I generally get asked but feel free to hit me up if you have questions.

DO IT, LIVE YOUR HAIR DREAMS, WHATEVER THEY ARE.

[notjustbacon]

Can we get to Sóc Sơn?

Preface: It has been brought to my attention by a rather important critic (who shall remain nameless) that my posts up till this point have pivoted closer to Trip Advisor reviews rather than personal accounts of my experiences... Well, dayum... I have got to fix that. So I've decided to switch it up with my 4th WorkAway experience. Yes, that's right FOURTH!

Did we get to Sóc Sơn? Yes, but let's paint the scene: Alex and I had just trekked 52 kilometers through Sapa: a land so beautiful that pictures could never do it justice and a place where you must get local guides to take you through - it's  pretty much the law. Stay tuned for a full post, but here's a sneak peak pic:

It was quite a journey just to get to our 4th WorkAway (located about 30 minutes from Hanoi, Vietnam) and that's what this post is about. The first leg involved being strapped into the top row of a 6-hour sleeper bus - not the fancy and roomy Sapa Express either. Our Inter Bus Lines bus was bumpy, packed to the brim, and a little unstable. Especially in the top middle seat where Alex laid/sat. The only advantage to the middle seat is more head room. While I had a wall to hold onto and brace myself against, I got a few bumps to my forehead along the way from the bus catching air. They weren't the worst seats though... those could be found in the very back of the bus. The worst seats were 5 side by sides (top row). Just looking at those seats made me cringe. If we took a corner too fast or bumped through some potholes the back five were popping all over the place like lotto balls. It's as if the bus had been put through a hot wash cycle and came out just a bit more snug than we had remembered... Or wished.

On the plus side, we did end up making friends with Brandon (a fellow traveler from Malaysia) who hooked us up with a charger while traveling. It was pretty lucky that we sat next to him and found out that his Huawei phone (appropriately named, sounds like WOWie) charger fit our Nexus phone. Zero of our friends have chargers that fit our phone because it has the weird USB-c plug... Sort of an anomaly. But here, halfway around the world, we meet Brandon who has a charger that he's willing to share. What a guy. Like many travelers we've met, Sapa was just one of a handful of stops he was making. We spent the remainder of the trip charging up, bonding over bumps and exchanging funny stories. Brandon fully supported our choice to skip the traditional route of buying a house for traveling around the world. As he put it, "I believe you've got to do what you want. Whatever makes you happy. You know?" Easy enough to remember, and straight to the point. I liked meeting Brandon, he was wise, succinct and hilarious. We all ended up friending each other on Facebook and wishing safe travels at his bus stop. Traveling bonus: it is a great way to make friends. Each of us can feel just a little out of our element and a little bit into it, leaving some space to fill in with new people and new experiences.

After reaching the last stop, we grabbed our bags, picked up the rest of our luggage and hired a taxi. I had emailed my host numerous times to request an address, but for some unknown reason, she was only able to give me a few directions to the general area of the school. I tried Google maps, but couldn't really come up with a whole lot. In my last email to her, I asked, "What should I tell the taxi driver?" She replied that I should show the driver the following paragraph... Which (with no Vietnamese) I was able to deduce was the directions she had given me (in Vietnamese) and a request for the driver to call her for further instructions... Strange, but maybe this is the way things are done. I sent off the email to Alex's folks and did enough internet sleuthing to feel fairly confident that we weren't getting into a dangerous situation, but it was still weird.

Once hired, the taxi driver stared at my host's message, asked, "Sóc Sơn?" We confirmed and he started driving toward our destination.  About 45 minutes into the journey, he called our host. The conversation gradually picked up in volume and emphasis and then suddenly ended. In total, he made about 4 u-turns, then apologized and called her again. We made it to the front gates of the school just over five minutes later. He dialed her number once more and handed it over to me.  "Hello? Alice?!" She asked. "Yes, Victoria? This is Alice," I replied. "Oh hello. Yes. Please wait. My sister and little brother will come to pick up you and take you. I'm at my mother's. I will come take you back to the school in an hour. Yes please," She said. At least that's what we thought she said in our minute long chat. I told her, "Okay." And shrugged when she hung up. We tipped our cab driver about 25% for his troubles, thanked him and waved goodbye. Alex and I stood there at the front gates of the school at 9:45 pm, just half-aware of our current situation, and laughed that this was all part of our adventure.

A few minutes later, a car pulled up with two adults and two kids filling it... I was crossing my fingers that this was Victoria's sister. A vivacious woman stepped out of the car waving her arms around, "Sorry. Sorry. I Victoria's sister!" Yes, we had made the connection. We were introduced to Boong Boong (Victoria's sister), her two children (Ming Ming and Kim Phuong), and Nace. Nace is a Slovienian volunteer who had been volunteering with the school for two weeks already. He stood by to help bridge the communication between us and Boong Boong. While she could speak English well enough, she admitted that she was too nervous to speak much at a time. After finding out that we hadn't had dinner, Boong Boong said she was going to take us somewhere to eat, we thanked her profusely and agreed that a late dinner would be a good idea. She told us that she didn't have the key to the gate (allowing us into our room), but the rest of the school was open so we could put our stuff in Nace's room. Since our bags are about the size of two small humans, we agreed to stash them away (removing our passports of course), climbed into the back of her Toyota sedan and made our way to a restaurant.

It was a little crazy to leave our stuff in a stranger's room, hop into another stranger's car, and to trust that we were going somewhere - even if we didn't know where it was, but this was a growing experience. Alex often reminds me of his mantra he picked up from Lao Tzu, "A good traveller has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." This was definitely chiming in my ears as we sat three adults deep, shoulder-shuffled in the back seat of the car. The two kiddos were fiercely afraid of us and begged to share the front seat with their mother. They were even moved to tears when Boong Boong finally said, "It is better for you to go back. Go in the back." We willfully agreed and the kids, happy as clams, shared the front passenger seat.

The six of us pulled up to a Pho restaurant and Boong Boong ordered us a few tasty bowls. Boong Boong asked if we like egg, we nodded, then she asked, "Do you like chicken?" We both said yes. I started to wonder, do they sometimes put egg in their pho? If you're shaking your head and feeling a little squeemish, then you must know what's coming. Minutes later we were served two bowls of pho gha and each an oversized hard-boiled egg... Um well, no. It was actually a Vietnamese delicacy: a chicken fetus. NOOOOOO!! NOOOOOO! Fuck, deep breath, fuck... I came to realize that we had ordered this inadvertently when we said we like eggs. We tried to eat a bite or two of the yolky section, but couldn't bring ourselves to eat any more of it. We just focused on our pho and let our host we were full by the end of our meal. She said that we had one more stop... So we all got into the car again and headed down the street.

It's very common for Vietnamese people to take their coffee at night, but this is not something Alex and I do, because... we won't sleep if we do this after 11 am. Either way, Boong Boong was feeling some coffee and the need to keep us full while we waited for Victoria. Even in this short excursion, it was clear to Alex and I that the family knows everyone in this town and that they are very well liked. People sitting at tables said hello, wanted to know who we were, and even wanted to take photos with us. Nace said this is normal since Sóc Sơn is away from the main city and not very many tourists make their way out here. He said, "Prepare to be famous. You are now local celebrity." This has happened so quickly, I thought. But, hey, I don't mind being liked. So I smiled and posed for pictures. Alex and I shared a mango smoothie, some sunflower seeds, and shredded cow jerky while the whole group chatted for another hour. By now, it was almost 11 pm... Alex and I were really about to fall over in exhaustion. Luckily, Boong Boong recognized the signs of fatigue and called Victoria to see if she was at the school yet. She let us know that we could start heading over there and that we would meet Victoria soon. In less than 15 minutes we had arrived at the school, grabbed our bags, said good night to the crew, met Victoria, and found our room.

After such a long and adventurous day (16 hours since the time we left Sapa), we weren't needing much to actually fall asleep. We changed into some light clothes, locked our door, and fell straight asleep. We had hoped to sleep until at least 7 am so that we were prepared for a day with rambunctious kiddos.

Unfortunately, there were other plans for us... To be continued in Working in Sóc Sơn.