A/N#1: Hey, everyone. I'm back. No, I'm not dead if any of you were wondering. I realize that I'm uploading this WAY later than I said I would, but this quarantine is super stressful, and I've just been emotionally exhausted for a while. If you want regular updates on when I'm posting or if there'll be a delay, you can follow me on Facebook (link in my bio). I appreciate y'all's patience and hope you enjoy the story.
A/N#2: This is the 3rd story in the Situation Normal series, so go read Easter Fool's Day and What Could Go Wrong? if you haven't already as they come before this one.
A/N#3: I don't own anyone from either the Harry Potter franchise, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The poem at the beginning of the story is Ezekiel Valdez's "The Wolf and the Moon", and I do not own it. More disclaimers at the bottom.
Why is the lone Wolf attracted to the Moon?
Howling towards it as if it's singing it a tune
By day the Wolf is focused with senses that are true
But at night he can't move being distracted by his view
What does he see in it, Can it be that he's confused?
Even though it never changes the wolf is loyal to the moon
Can it be the Moon's beauty that has this Wolf consumed
That he has to howl complements of this beauty towards the moon
This is not hard to believe but yet something safe to assume
For it's the very same way your beauty has attracted me to you
With my lone heart howling every night wanting to be with you
"You're staring at the moon again."
The words startled Oz out of the thoughts he'd been lost in. He looked over at his roommate, Ivan, who had spoken.
Ivan was leaned against the wall with his arms folded over his chest. He watched Oz with an unreadable look on his face.
"Ah, you're right. Thanks," Oz said lightly. He knew it wasn't a reprimand or anything of the sort, Ivan just wanted to make sure Oz was being careful. After all, the full moon was only two days away. A single slip on Oz's part could put Ivan's life in danger.
Not that Ivan wasn't used to the danger. His mother, Bronya, was one of the werewolves that Oz had taught how to control their changes. When he was looking to move out of Russia and travel to the next area, she had told him that if he wanted to live in London, he could room with her son for free. Oz had agreed, and there they were, two months later.
Ivan was undeniably handsome with a fair, clear complexion and light brown hair. He was muscular too, a fact that never failed to impress the ladies. However, the most attention-grabbing feature he had was a rather prominent horizontal scar running from the middle of his cheek to under his ear. It was from hunters who'd been trying to catch Bronya when he was a child. They'd fired a crossbow at him to keep him from running for help, but the bolt had nearly missed, leaving only the pale white scar on Ivan's cheek. While some might have seen it as a permanent reminder of the dangers of associating with werewolves, Ivan had always used it as more of a tribute to what he'd do to protect those he loved. He was one of the fiercest advocates for werewolves that Oz had ever met.
Ivan nodded to the magazine in Oz's hand.
"Have you decided?" he asked.
Oz sighed slightly and turned his thoughts back to where they'd been before Ivan had spoken initially.
"Yeah, I think so," he answered after a beat. "The Quibbler is well known for their support of magical creature rights and protection. I doubt that it's a trap, and I could use the money."
Ivan nodded with understanding.
"Want me to come with?" he asked.
But Oz was already shaking his head, anticipating Ivan's offer.
"Nah, I'm good. But, hey, if I'm not back by morning, you can have my guitars," he joked.
Ivan nodded again, serious as always.
Oz looked down at the back page of the magazine still in his hand and read it again, though he'd already memorized it.
"Lupine listlessness leaving you low? Wolfish worries wasting your wallet? The Quibbler can help! Come to our office at 814 Clangerwoosh Lane at 5 PM on July 2nd to make some quick cash! Don't let the magermanoes keep you away!" it read.
Oz shook his head at the very oddness of it. No, he was sure it wasn't a trap. But what was it? A job interview? Did they have some story they wanted to pursue that only a werewolf could follow? A news interview? Were they wanting to know what the wolves thought about something? Or was it something else entirely? Oz didn't know, and that was really why he was going to the meeting. Sure, he was running low on cash, but his curiosity was just burning a hole inside of him, and he had to sate it.
Oz blinked and realized he was staring up at the ceiling again, where the moon was in the sky. The fact that the room had no windows didn't matter. Oz knew where the moon was just as he knew where his hands were. It was as if the moon was a part of his body now. It had been this way ever since he'd originally been bit. Somehow, someway, the moon always managed to draw him to it. It was always strongest right before a full moon, which of course was just a couple of days away.
He ran a hand through his currently emerald green hair and sighed as he stood.
"Thanks," he repeated. "I'd better get going if I'm going to get there in time for them to entrap me," he added snarkily.
"Okay, call me if you need anything," he replied simply.
Oz smiled at him.
He grabbed his coat and his keys and got into his van. Time to find out what was up.
Oz didn't need to look at the numbers on the buildings to guess which address was the right one. 814 Clangerwoosh Lane was visible for blocks. It was painted bright pink, and "The Quibbler" was written in a shimmering gold across its front. Every few seconds, the writing disappeared and was rewritten with new penmanship. Oz's lip quirked up slightly into a smile. Cool sign.
He parked and strolled into the lobby as casually as he would into a friend's house with his hands in his pockets.
A quick survey of the room showed that the place had as much personality inside as out. The room he'd entered was painted an obnoxious orange. At the back of the room was a neon green desk with a stern-looking woman seated behind it. A purple door was just to the desk's right. The woman didn't look up at Oz's entrance and continued writing something.
There were chairs placed haphazardly around the room with no particular order that Oz could tell, and every chair had a different design and hue of brown. All the seats were empty, however. The woman and Oz were the only two people in the room.
Oz walked up to the desk and cleared his throat when the woman still did not move. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?" she asked pointedly.
"Hi, I'm here about the ad in the Quibbler regarding werewolves," he explained. "It said to be here at 5."
She looked crossly at the clock on the wall and then frowned at him.
"You're early," she said accusingly.
Oz raised an eyebrow of his own.
"Yep," he replied coolly, not about to take any anti-werewolf guff from her.
She sniffed as if he was completely out of line for arriving 5 minutes early and pressed a button on her desk.
"One actually showed up," she huffed. "Better come fetch him."
She released the button and gave him an annoyed look.
"Someone will be here soon," she said in a snippy tone, pointing at the chairs with her pen. "Have a seat." Then she went back to pretending he didn't exist while playing what Oz could now see was sudoku.
Oz raised an eyebrow at the fact that she was using a pen rather than a quill. Was she muggleborn? He shrugged, knowing she wouldn't appreciate being asked and ambled over to a random chair (a dark mahogany folding chair) and sat down.
Moments later, the door next to the woman burst open.
Oz jerked. He must have been deeply lost in thought not to have heard anyone coming. He realized he'd been staring up at the moon again and quickly tore his gaze away to look at who'd come in.
An extremely short teenager was bent over panting, hands on his knees, in the doorway. His eyes fell onto Oz and he beamed, straightening up.
He took a deep breath then launched into speech. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "None of us actually thought anyone was going to show up! Thanks, Mrs. Crabapple!"
The last sentence had been directed over the teen's shoulder to the woman behind the desk as the kid hurried towards Oz. Oz was hardly surprised by the fitting name. Many of the wizards that Oz had met seemed like their names had been handpicked for them based on their personality. He wondered if it was a magic thing.
The boy practically bounced over to Oz and stuck his hand out to shake.
"Hi! I'm Dennis Creevey!"
Oz stood to greet him and shook the offered hand. The kid was actually shorter than Oz was, which was saying something.
"I'm Oz," he answered simply.
Dennis exuded happiness.
"Wow! Cool name!" he said with bright eyes. "I wish my name was that awesome!"
Oz shrugged. "Well, my name is actually Daniel Osborne, but everyone calls me Oz," he explained.
"Oh, a nickname! Cool! I don't really have any nicknames. Oh! Actually that's not true! This one guy I went to school with calls me Hammy! You know, like the squirrel from Over the Hedge? He started calling me that after-"
Mrs. Crabapple cleared her throat.
"It's after five, Mr. Creevey," she said primly. "Perhaps you should take him back now."
He smiled at her.
"Thanks, Mrs. Crabapple! Good idea!" He turned to Oz. "If you'll please follow me."
Oz followed him through the door Dennis had come in through and down a bright yellow hallway. Every door was a different color and was numbered with a silver script. While the size and color of the numbering was uniform, they appeared not to have any relation to each other. They passed a door marked 365, followed by 1,000, 23, 749, and 18 in that order.
While they walked, Dennis kept up a constant stream of chatter.
"I've always wanted to be a reporter!" he announced. "My brother is a photographer, and he works here, and he talked with Miss Lovegood, and she agreed to let me intern here! Isn't that awesome? She's a really nice lady. I like her a lot! I hope I can be as good at writing as she is someday and half as nice! She's head reporter at the Quibbler, you know, and it isn't just because her dad is the owner. She's awesome at seeing things others don't, and she never abandons a story no matter how hopeless it looks!"
Dennis finally had to pause to take a breath. He sucked it in, then started right back up again. Oz didn't mind, and had no problem following him. In fact, the kid reminded him of how Willow used to babble on at rapid speeds without stopping to breathe along the way.
"Did you know she's the one who got the interview with The Boy Who Lived after Voldemort returned?" he continued. "And she covered the final battle too! She's got a lot of experience even though she's only 17, and here's our room!"
He stopped in front of a dark red door marked 113 (The door before it was labeled 3. The one after it was 265 and the one across the hall was 101.) He stood to the side to let Oz in first and then practically skipped in after him.
The room was a light pink color with slowly moving swirls of white bending and twisting on the walls. The decor had an air of calmness to it that the rest of the building was lacking. In the center of the room was a surprisingly normal-looking black coffee table. There were four identical black chairs placed around it as well. There were no windows, and a counter ran across the right wall with cabinets above it. All in all, the room was oddly ordinary compared to the rest of the building. He wondered why. Was it to keep those being interviewed from getting distracted?
"Can I get you anything? Tea? Pumpkin juice? Butterbeer? Coffee? You're American, right? Do you drink a lot of coffee? I heard-" Dennis started in on what was sure to be a long rabbit trail.
While Oz didn't mind the chatter, he also didn't want them to lose track of why they were there, and experience with babblers told him he needed to nip this side trail in the bud before Dennis could get going. So, he interrupted.
"Tea's fine. Herbal if you've got it."
"Great!" Dennis chimed, not at all put out by being cut off.
He started to brew a cup of delicious smelling tea at the counter, talking all the while about a variety of subjects, such as the famous people he'd met at school, the battles he'd seen, what his life had been like before his older brother was accepted at Hogwarts, etc. Oz just let it wash over him. He liked listening to people. Besides, this kid's all-too-familiar rambling made Oz nostalgic. Oz missed Willow a lot, especially whenever he heard from the grapevine all about what she'd been up to since he last saw her. This child's chatter reminded him of her. Of home.
When the tea was finished, Dennis set it in front of Oz and pulled out a clipboard and a quill.
"Okay! I just need to ask you a few questions about yourself before you can meet with your interviewer! What's your full name?" For once, he waited for Oz to answer, quill poised patiently over parchment. He watched Oz with eager eyes.
Oz spent the next few minutes answering basic questions about himself, such as his name, birthday (March 6, 1980), age (25), magical status (muggle), and when and by who he'd been bit (January of '98 by his cousin).
Dennis quickly scribbled all this down and then beamed up at Oz.
"Those are all the questions I have. Please wait here for a moment while I get Miss Lovegood."
He rushed out the door, and Oz was left alone. He sipped his tea slowly as he waited. It was a very nice orange spice.
Oz's ears perked up as he heard someone walking towards him, and their scent hit him at almost the same time. That was interesting, in and of itself, because Oz usually heard people coming before he could smell them. This person though seemed to be barefooted, so their footsteps were much quieter than normal. Curious. Bare feet in an office? How odd. He could tell from the scent that it was a woman. She smelled like ink, rain, and grass. Radishes, too, for some reason. And she didn't smell like she was wearing any artificial scents either. Oz decided he liked her. Anyone with that combination of smells had to be an interesting person.
The door opened quietly, and there she was. Oz stood to greet her.
She had platinum blonde hair that was pulled up into a bun. Oz felt a jolt of surprise when he realized she was using her wand as a hair stick. Oz didn't think he'd ever seen a witch do that before. That wasn't the only odd thing about her appearance though. She appeared to be wearing real radishes as earrings and the bracelet on her arm was braided hair of several shades. Oz could tell from the smell that it was all real human hair from a dozen different people. There was black, red, brown, and blond hair of various shades. It was beautiful, but slightly disturbing. He didn't know what to think about it really. About Oz's height and with a slender figure, she was wearing a dark green sweater and a pair of black skinny jeans that accented her curves well, with a quill behind one ear. And, just as Oz had thought, she wasn't wearing any shoes or makeup.
Based on the smell clinging to its wood, Oz was fairly certain that the clipboard in her hand was the same one Dennis had used.
There was something about the way she moved and the sincere but distant smile she was giving him that made her seem a bit slow-witted, but the gleam of intelligence in her eye and the way she studied him as he studied her said otherwise.
Somehow, Oz felt drawn to her. When she walked into the room the wolf became more alert. Maybe it was the upcoming full moon, or the fact that he'd just been thinking about Willow, but he felt attracted to this strange girl like he'd only ever been to his redheaded witch before. Well, her and the moon.
"Hello," she said in an airy voice that once again gave the impression of lack of intelligence. Still though, Oz was convinced otherwise. "I'm Luna Lovegood."
Oz blinked in surprise. Wait, what? Her name meant moon? That was an odd coincidence, especially considering the way the wolf was so hyper-aware of her.
He shrugged it off. He needed to be professional and bugging out about her name was not the way to go about it.
"I'm Oz," he said, holding out his hand to shake hers.
When their skin made contact, a jolt of electricity shot down Oz's arm, startling him. He wondered if she'd felt it too, but as she made no indication of it, he pretended he hadn't either.
When she released his hand, Oz casually put them into his pockets and followed her to resume his seat.
"Are you comfortable?" she asked sweetly. "Would you like anything to eat or drink?"
Oz shook his head.
"Good. Well, as you may have heard, the legislation regarding werewolves is due to be reexamined soon," she began without any preamble. "We felt that in light of this, it would be helpful for the public if we could have an interview with a werewolf and tell about what life is like when you have lycanthropy. We at the Quibbler feel that would help clear up some of the superstitions regarding werewolves and might help the public feel more at ease with them. Also, while we normally do not pay our sources, due to the trouble werewolves usually have retaining employment we're willing to pay you our going rate for expert consultants, if that works for you."
She slid a paper with a figure on it towards him. He stuck it in his pocket without looking at it.
Despite the serious tone of her words, the whole speech had been delivered in that same sing-song tone she'd used to greet him. Oz wondered why she was trying so hard to convince him she was dim when she was clearly just as sane as he was.
He was impressed though with her regard for werewolves. She didn't seem at all afraid of him and seemed to really want to help things get better for werewolves. That took guts. If England hated werewolves, it hated werewolf supporters with an equal passion.
"That's fine," he said aloud. "Good plan, by the way."
She smiled at him.
She pulled the quill out from behind her ear and held up the parchment.
"You were first bit when you were 18, yes? What was that like?" she asked, watching him intently.
"Well, my cousin bit me in his human form. It was the day of the full moon so he was infectious, otherwise werewolves can only spread lycanthropy in wolf form. I was tickling him, and he didn't like it. He was only a kid. He didn't understand what his bite would do to me. It didn't hurt that bad, and I didn't really think much of it at the time," he answered using more words than he would normally. He knew though that his normal succinctness would be hard to translate to a decent interview.
She nodded and scribbled that down.
"How did you feel when you realized what had happened?"
"I was worried that I'd hurt someone or that I already had. I was afraid that my friends, the Slayer and her crew, would kill me if they found out. I worried that I'd never be able to date or marry anyone because of this," he answered.
She nodded some more and recorded his words.
"Do people treat you differently when they find out you're a werewolf?" she asked.
"Some do. Others don't," he answered before remembering he was trying to be more verbal. "I mean the friends I had when I was first infected didn't treat me differently at all. They were totally cool with it, and I've met a bunch of other really awesome people over the years who couldn't care either way. But, yeah, I've also met people who absolutely shunned me when they found out."
"How does that make you feel?"
"I try not to let it bother me. I just go and find people who won't judge me for something that isn't my fault. It does sting, though." Oz found that he liked talking to this girl. She was just so nonchalant and rooted.
"The last full moon was June 22nd, correct? Could you please describe for me what your transformation was like?" she asked, quill poised over the page to write down his answer.
"Actually, I didn't transform on the twenty-second. I haven't transformed at all for about two years."
Her head snapped up, her dreamy look disappearing in an instant.
"What?! How?" she gasped. "Even with wolfsbane you can't stop the transformations from coming, you just retain your mind when you're in wolf form. How is it possible that you don't transform?"
"Well, six years ago, I went on a journey to find myself and learn more about the wolf and how to control it. Eventually, I ended up in Tibet where some monks taught me how to repress the wolf during the full moon. Now I only transform when I lose control of my emotions significantly. That's only happened three times since then. The first time was when I discovered my old girlfriend had started dating again. The second time was when I saw a man shoot a three-month-old baby in the head, and the last time was when I found the body of a boy I was teaching the meditation techniques to. He'd lost control and was killed by hunters. That was two years ago. I haven't transformed since then."
At the beginning of Oz's story, Luna had just sat there, staring at him dumbfounded with her mouth hanging open, but he hadn't gotten far before she'd gotten ahold of herself and started to write furiously, obviously trying to get down every word.
When he finished, she looked up at him with eager eyes.
"So you can teach this skill to others?" she asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, I've taught a few people before. I haven't taught anyone in England though. Mostly because I haven't met any werewolves. Or at least no one who would admit it. They're all too afraid of the backlash. Besides, because of the unfair laws, a lot of people just move out of England when they get bit, and hardly any wolves move to England once they've got it."
Luna looked elated.
"If I get you in contact with some werewolves, will you teach them?"
He shrugged. "Sure. If they're willing."
Luna beamed at him.
"This is amazing! We wouldn't even need wolfbane if no one transformed!"
"It doesn't work for everyone," Oz cautioned. "You have to be really dedicated, and it takes a long time before there are any results."
"Okay," she replied quickly, before glancing at her watch. "That's all the information I planned on covering initially, but I really want to hear more about those techniques you were talking about. Would you like to continue this discussion over dinner?"
Oz raised an eyebrow. She was inviting him to dinner? That was fine by him. Maybe he could convince her to join him for another meal while he was with her.
He shrugged. "Sure."
They ended up going to a pub called the Leaky Cauldron. Oz had only been there once, as he generally preferred places with live music.
He'd texted Ivan before he left so that he wouldn't freak out and storm the Quibbler to find him.
As they sat, Oz found himself watching Luna. She'd grabbed a pair of black flats from her office before they left, so she was wearing shoes now, and she'd regained that airy manner that made her seem so odd. The facade had slipped when he'd revealed that he didn't transform during the full moon, but the drive to the pub had been sufficient for her to continue the act.
They ordered, then Luna turned to him with an absent smile.
"So," she said dreamily. "You mentioned being friends with the Slayer earlier. That was Buffy Summers, wasn't it?"
"So, then you're from Sunnydale, yes?"
"Then how did you end up in Tibet?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, leaning forward eagerly.
"Well, after I left Sunnydale, I went to stay with my aunt and uncle who lived nearby. While there, I talked to them about lycanthropy. My aunt has been a wolf since she was a child herself, so she has significantly more experience than me. I wanted to learn as much as I could about being a werewolf so I could find out a way to become safe. She told me that she'd once heard of a village of tame werewolves, but she couldn't remember any of the details. She'd figured it was just a story, so she hadn't paid much attention. And all she could remember about the person who told her was that he was an elderly massage therapist from Paris named Fu. And she met him when she was studying up there, so that was over a decade ago. It was a long shot, but it was the only thing I had going for me then, so I packed up and left."
He broke off as their food and drinks arrived, then continued after a sip.
"It took me a few months to track him down. Apparently, I'd narrowly missed him. He'd left Paris a week before I arrived. I found him in New Zealand and managed to convince him to tell me about the village of werewolves. It seems that when he was a boy, the temple he served at had known a way to control the wolf at the full moon, thus making it safe. He said I could find the temple in Tibet, so I traveled there, and they taught me how to suppress the wolf during the full moon through herbs and meditation," he finished.
"What did you do after that?" Luna asked, paying him rapt attention the whole time.
"I went back to Sunnydale, but I found out that my previous girlfriend had started dating someone else, and I lost control. So I left again, since it wouldn't be safe for me to stay. I went and taught my aunt and cousin how to control the wolf too, then I set off to find a new place. I traveled from place to place, and I taught as many werewolves as I could how to tame the wolf as I went. Eventually, I realized that was my new mission, so I started to seek out the werewolf communities wherever I went," he explained.
"Where have you taught people?"
"I road tripped across America for a while, basically going wherever sounded good at the time. I went to Nevada, Missouri, Louisiana, Florida, D.C., all over. When I got tired of that, I headed down-under for a while. Then I went back to France. From there I went to Germany, then India, and then Russia. Now, I'm here."
"That sounds fascinating!"
"Maybe. I traveled a lot as a kid, so it was kind of normal for me. Though I spent considerably more time fighting the forces of darkness than when I was younger."
Luna giggled, and Oz smiled at her.
"But, hey, what about you? You've fought your fair share of evil too, right?" he asked. He didn't know much about her and her family, but he had heard that she had supported the side of light in the war. He was fairly desperate to get her to talk for a while. He wasn't used to speaking so much at one time, and, besides, he was hungry. "I mean, you were part of the movement against Voldemort, weren't you?"
She nodded, and Oz took a bite of food.
"That's true. I helped fight him, but if I hadn't he would have destroyed my whole world and way of life. Whereas you could have found someplace to settle down and get away from the fight. But you didn't. You choose to keep going out there and fight for others, even when you didn't have to. I think that makes you a hero," she argued.
"True," Oz retorted. "But just because you were fighting for you and your world doesn't make your struggle worth less. There's nothing that says one of us is better than the other because of what motivated us to do what we did."
She nodded in acquiescence.
"A fair point," she acknowledged.
They lapsed into silence for a period as they ate.
Oz wondered if she would agree to go out with him again. Had she only invited him to dinner to hear more about how he'd tamed the wolf, or did she feel the same attraction toward him that he felt for her? He hoped it was the latter. He really wanted to get closer to this quirky girl.
Luna looked up at him then, and Oz realized with a jolt that he'd been staring at her while he thought. He didn't blush, but if he'd been someone else, he probably would have.
"Penny for your thoughts," she said sweetly, seemingly unconcerned with his rudeness.
"I was just trying to figure out how I could convince you to go to dinner with me again," he answered honestly.
Her smile grew broader.
"I've always found asking the person in question to be particularly helpful when considering such quandaries," she replied sincerely.
He shot her a lopsided grin.
"Hey, wanna go out with me?" he asked casually.
"I'd like that very much," she replied easily, without missing a beat.
"Cool," Oz replied.
They continued to chat as the evening progressed. The time passed quickly, and Oz realized suddenly that they'd been talking for five hours.
He offered to drop her off at her house, and, luckily for him, she agreed. They talked the whole drive there, and when they arrived, Oz found himself loath to say goodnight.
"So, does tomorrow work for dinner?" he asked. Yes, it was soon, but he didn't want to delay for one moment more than he had to.
"I believe I can fit you into my schedule," she replied with a sweet smile. "I have an article about a werewolf to write, but I should be finished by 5:30."
Oz nodded. "Alright then. I'll be picking you up then."
Suddenly, she darted forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek before skipping back and smiling at him.
"See you tomorrow, then," she sang before heading inside.
Oz smiled and strolled back to his van
As he started up the car and began to pull away, he glanced back towards the house and saw the nearly full moon hanging over it. For once, though, the moon wasn't just a reminder that he'd always be chained to it; now it whispered of Luna. Of a girl who was making him wonder for the first time in six years if he could be happy in a relationship with someone other than Willow. He'd never gone back to dating after her. No one had really clicked. There were girls that were pretty enough, or smart enough, but none of them were Willow. Luna wasn't Willow either, but for the first time, that was okay. She was Luna. And it was enough.
Izzy: You might as well come in, Sweet. I know you're out there.
Sweet: Hey, Author.
Izzy *cranes neck to try and see past Sweet into the hallway behind him*: So, ah, just you then?
Sweet *shrugs apologetically*: Yeah, sorry.
Izzy *sighs and shoulders slump*: Oh, well. It was worth a try. It would have been cool to hang out with Oz, but I guess I'll have to keep looking for my angel. At least you're going to get more time one on one with me, like you wanted.
Sweet: Yeah, that's true. So, I noticed that you didn't put this up when you said you would…
Izzy *sighs again*: Yeah, I've had a rough… well, year, really. I know that sounds ultra-dramatic, but I'm really not trying to be. This Coronavirus was just the straw that broke the camel's back. *turns to audience* If you guys want to know the many reasons that I delayed putting this up, you can check out my Facebook page (link in the author's note before the story), but don't expect to see a new story up for quite a bit. I'm spent. By the way, I know it says in my profile that I have Instagram and Twitter pages too, but I never take pictures, and I don't like to have my word-count restricted, so I don't really use them.
Sweet: I'm sure the readers can forgive you for your lateness.
Izzy *nods*: And don't worry guys, I've learned my lesson. From now on, I'm not promising to put up a story on a specific date until I've actually finished the story. If my readers want to know when I plan on posting something, they can leave a review or check my Facebook, otherwise, they'll just have to be patient.
Sweet: Sounds good. Anyway, about the story. Oz and Luna, huh?
Izzy *perks up*: Oh my gosh! They are so cute! I ship them so hard. Do expect to see more of them in the Situation Normal series. Dennis, too. He's just so adorable and hyper. I had so much fun writing him. Mrs. Crabapple and Ivan may appear again as well. Oh, while I'm talking about them, Ivan, his mom, and Mrs. Crabapple are all original characters. Fu, however, is not. He's from the Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir television show. I do not have any plans on further crossovers with that universe in this series as of writing this, but I may decide to use them in the future.
Sweet: So, I peaked in your notes and saw you were trying to come up with a shipping name for them. What's the verdict?
Izzy: I searched the internet, and I couldn't find a shipping name for them anywhere, so I made up my own. I'm thinking "Full Moon", though my grandpa suggests "Luna-tic". *turns to readers* What do you guys think? If you have a suggestion or you've heard of a different name for them, let me know in the reviews.
Sweet: Alright, Oz wasn't your angel. Any ideas on who you'll try next?
Izzy: Well, I've made a list, but I've decided not to go looking for him.
Sweet *surprised*: What do you mean?
Izzy: It was seriously stressful writing this story, and the whole time other stories that wanted to be written kept intruding on my thoughts. So, I've determined that I'll write the stories that I feel like writing at the time, whether or not they include one of my potential angels. We've got a good thing going here, you and me, and I can be content with that. One day, I'll find my angel, and I'm okay with waiting until I do.
Sweet: Huh, that's very mature of you, Izzy.
Izzy *glares*: Are you saying I'm not mature?
Sweet *smirks*: I'm not saying that, but I am saying that you start giggling every time someone says "throw up your hands"...
Izzy *scoffs, but can't quite hide a smile*: If they don't want people to laugh, they should phrase it differently.
Sweet: Yeah, real mature there, Author.
Izzy *sticks tongue out, then turns to audience*: Well, guys, that's all from me. Stay safe and healthy. I'll talk to you all next time! Bye!
*blinding flash of light fading into black*