#i love reading these type of stories in rainy nights and non-school days

[halamet-chalamet]

Hi! I saw your headconnon post about Spencer Reid and I wanted to give it a try!

I'm ,30 years old female. I have short curly black hair . olive skin with a lot freckles / birthmarks, and green eyes. I'm covered in tattoos and I have my nose and lip pierced. My personal style is a mix between rockabilly and grunge. I'm very short, 4'10" and I'm a size 6 in jeans/dresses I'm petite but I do have some curves. My personality type is ESFJ, Enneagram personality type 6, Virgo Sun and Pisces Moon.

I'm very very insecure about myself. My voice my body my intelligence (I'm dyslexic) you name it

I'm a middle school science teacher, I honestly love my job even though it is really hard sometimes and it makes me cry lol

I'm Sassy, sarcastic but genuine and sweet. I have a dry sense of humor but I absolutely love puns. I'm Hardworking but also a procrastinator. I'm a kid at heart, definitely more crafty then artistic I don't like that I do not have much of back bone at times, I try to avoid conflict like it's the plague so I tend to indifferent a lot of the time too.

I'm a non judgmental person and a good listener. I have ADHD so I would lose my own head that wasn't attached to my body, so I have a lot of planers and sticky notes everywhere. I love having fun with my friends. Exploring new cafes or little things in our city. I love going to a local coffee shop on rainy nights and setting with a book and coffee, black coffee I don't like any cream.or sugar. I love the look of city lights at night. Not much of an outdoor person is endless unless it is for a concert.

I love any age or genre of rock music, I scare very easily but I love horror movies. I'm really nerdy, I love playing D&D with my friends, reading, anime, doctor who ect ect.I collect mugs. I probably have over a 120 at this point. My 15lb pekingese dog is my baby. An odd hoppy of mine is I take only liquor and wine bottles use them as vases for flower bouquets I make

How come all of you guys sound so cool bruh???

Where do I begin?

You guys have so much in common but are still such different people

Binge watching doctor who together for SURE

Speaking of remembering things, he’s so understanding about your ADHD

His eidetic memory comes in super handy! He reads your sticky notes and is your own personal calendar!!

Coffee. Dates

This boy loves his coffee

We KNOW he loves his coffee

Home coffee dates. Favorite cafe coffee dates. New cafe coffee dates

He def needs someone as non judgmental as you in his life .

Poor boy has so much trauma he needs to get out of him and having you to actively listen and care for him when he needs it is so foreign but absolutely needed.

Spence is always wondering how your day went. He wants to know alll about what happened at school.

And is there when you need to cry :(((

I think we can kind of tell that he’s not very outdoorsy

So you guys stay in a lot or go out to do things indoors.

You introduce him to a lot of new music!!!

Idk if you like Muse but I feel like it’s the perfect blend of hard rock and classical and would be spectacular for you both.

You’re the edgy he needs bro I’m not lying.

You’re still nerdy and compatible with him but you certainly have more edge and it gets him out of his comfort zones in the best way!

He pretends he’s gonna steal your dog 💀

And says it’s his son/ daughter (sorry idk what gender your dog is but it sounds cute)

What if he visited your class one time and helped you with a lesson to the kids???

That would be adorrrrrable

Anyway

Okay dnd with this boi

He gets so serious about the story lines bro

Okay you guys so rarely fight because you both hate conflict

If there is something one of you needs to bring up it’s not in an angry or accusing manner at all because neither of you like that.

Spencer is so good to you when you’re insecure.

He often times feels similar so he knows how to handle it really well.

He doesn’t overwhelm you or get upset at you but cares for you and let’s you know how he sees you. 🥰🥰🥰

[write-ur-wrongs]

Mother, Mother pt.2

A/N: Finally ready to post part 2 of my dad!Geralt fic!!! Part 2 is loosely based on this prompt Another request with baby!👀🥰 Reader has a newborn and geralt is just watching them thinking about how much have changed and how reader turned his life around...🍪 so I really want to thank that anon for their prompt and their patience! I definitely took some liberties with this story and worry the plot got lost along the way(?) but I really hope you like it nonetheless! Full disclosure I haven’t proof-read this piece so forgive the many typos!!

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“I said, no,” Geralt repeated himself slowly and with great authority, “thank you.”

The village healer looked at the witcher with eyes wide in disbelief, unable to accept that there was anything a witcher wouldn’t do for coin. Especially this witcher – the White Wolf – or so they used to call him. He used to be a force to be reckoned with on the continent, but now it seemed there was rarely a job he’d be willing to take.

“No? B-but who will help us!” they shouted desperately, “you can’t just leave this village to fend for itself! The creature will kill us all, Witcher!”

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath before repeating himself yet again. “Please understand, I can’t help you, but I know people who can. Eskel is highly qualified and will be here by the next full moon. He will help you; I assure you.”

“But you’re here now,” the healer said, still shaking his head, “you could resolve this by nightfall! Why should these people wait a week for peace?”

“Hm.” He growled, lowly, biting down on his cheek to keep himself from giving into his rage and his pride. He wasn’t just living for himself anymore, not just living for the coin or by the witcher’s code; he had a family now.

He knew the world wouldn’t be easy to convince regarding his change in career path. Hell, it had taken most of your pregnancy to convince his brothers at Kaer Morhen of his plans. When he first told them you were pregnant, and it was his, they laughed heartily while sharing quick looks of concern between one another; fearing you’d strayed and were trying to play poor Geralt for a fool.

Yet that reaction was nothing compared to the one they gave him when Geralt admitted that his days of being a witcher were over. He’d be a consultant now. He’d travel the continent only when he heard of monsters through Jaskier’s letters, and once he reached these villages, he’d take stock and refer the case to one of his brothers, who’d pay him a modest commission for the referral. Geralt never took contracts he deemed to be too dangerous (which, so it happened, was most of them). The rule was if he wouldn’t readily bring Cirilla along to help, it was too dangerous for him alone.

Once, he let pride take precedence and he accepted a contract he knew was dangerous. It felt good to be back in the saddle, both literally and figuratively. He and Roach took to the forest like birds on a breeze, and his sword was just an extension of himself as he wielded it fiercely and with grace.

While he did conquer the beast in the end, it did put up quite a fight, and everything he thought made the fight worth it was washed away the instant he limped into your home and saw the look on his pregnant wife’s face and heard the cries of his beloved child surprise. To this day, he still feels the panicked sound of Ciri’s fearful shriek and your horrified sob weigh heavily in the pit of his stomach.

He felt this very weight now as he considered this desperate healer’s words. Yes, he’d handled this type of monster many times before, but it wasn’t worth it.

“Listen to me, this type of creature is only a threat during a full moon,” Geralt said, “just educate your people, spread the word, you’re in a position of authority here – use it.”

The healer sighed deeply before muttering to themselves in frustration. They pulled their cloak tighter around their body and made a scene of grabbing the coin-filled sac from the table. Geralt rolled eyes his at the paranoid healer before gesturing for them to head outside.

“Fine, leave! But if you leave now and anyone dies, their blood will be on your hands!” shouted the healer, as Geralt tended to Roach.

Geralt rolled his eyes before mounting Roach, urging her onto the trail.

This isn’t my fight, he thought, and their people will be fine.

You were having a wonderful morning. Wren slept through the night for the first time in who-knows how long, and Ciri was relaxing as she entered her fifth day without a magical episode; those lessons with her aunt Yennefer were definitely paying off.

Now you were savouring the gentle afternoon breeze, resting your knees in the cool earth of the garden as the sun warmed you from above. You loved harvesting produce and tending to the flowers; this year was especially bountiful thanks to a rainy spring and temperate summer. As you picked tomatoes off the vine, you smiled softly at the sound of Ciri celebrating a successful hit on her target across the yard.

Meanwhile, Wren played happily in the dirt at your side. She’s been sitting up on her own now which was such a thrill. Such a small change, but it granted you freedoms you didn’t know you’d been missing.

“Mama, snek!” Wren squealed, proudly holding an earthworm up at you. You laughed in relief upon seeing what she was holding up – for half a second you thought she’d managed to snag an actual snake.

“Wow my girl,” you cooed, “what a find!”

At the sound of your praise, Wren smiled up at you brightly and closed her little fingers around the earthworm with pride.

“Careful now, love! Don’t harm it,” you said, gently prying open her stubby fingers and releasing the worm back into the soil, “these little guys play an important role in the health of our garden.”

“You know she doesn’t understand you, right mom?” Ciri said a little breathlessly after stabbing her sword into the earth.

“I don’t think we can say that with certainty, Ciri. She is a witcher’s daughter after all, we are in for a lifetime of surprises I’d say.” You replied with a small shake of your head. Ciri rolled her eyes at you before making off towards the house at a run.

“Cirilla,” you warned, “don’t leave your sword in the yard! And wipe it down before you take it in – I don’t want dirt tracked in again.”

“Mom!” she groaned, stomping back to get her sword. “Witchers don’t need to do these ridiculous chores…” she said under her breath.

“They don’t get warm meals or comfortable beds either!” you replied in a sing-song, knowing it would drive Ciri crazy – you hated when she grumbled at you. Ciri had great respect for her father but would sometimes treat you like you were nothing more than a headmistress at school. Having spent time with witchers and sorceresses alike, scolding didn’t command respect; at least when you played it light it got her attention.

“Yeah – I know! I’ve lived those lives!” Ciri shouted, storming back towards the house, sword in hand.

Fuck. You forgot she was there when Cintra fell. How could you forget?! She was alone and, on the run, and oh gods if Geralt had been here and heard this he’d –

“Ciri, wait, I’m so sorry. I’m –”

“Sounds like someone could use some help.”

You stopped cold at the sound of the strangers’ voice. It ran through you like mead – ice cold but left a strange burning sensation in its place. Ciri also stopped in her tracks, dropping her hand from the door but keeping a firm grip on the helm of her sword. Ciri cast a quick glance at the stranger standing on the edge of your property before settling her nervous eyes on you.

You did your best to evoke confidence before turning to see this stranger for yourself.

It was Visenna.

Again, you did your best to seem confident as you addressed your eldest. “Ciri,” you said, not taking your eyes off the druid, “take Wren into the house, quickly!”  

“Mom?”

“Cirilla please, take her and go into the house,” you said, impressed at your ability to keep your voice level. “And take your sword with you,” you added, turning to give her what you hopped was a look that encouraged her to stay calm and be careful.

Ciri said nothing but scooped her sister up and onto her hip with one arm while keeping her sword steadily by her side.

Once you heard the door close, you cast a quick glance to make sure your girls were safe before turning your attention back to the woman standing at the gate.

“Why are you here, Visenna?” you asked, holding your head high despite the fact your heart was pounding in your ears.

“Oh child,” her words dripped with condescension, “I never expected my son to write me back, but I had hoped he’d share the contents of my letter with his wife.”

“He told me about the letter,” you said, giving her a tight close-lipped smile, “in fact he told me all about you. So, I’m going to ask you again, why are you here?”

“If you know about the letter, then you know why I’m here.”  

“Could you be so cold as to have you forgotten your history with your son? The way you left him to be tested on like a rat? You have no right to be here.” Your voice cracked as you finished your last sentence, and Visenna tilted her head at your sign of weakness.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about, dear. You weren’t there -”

“Neither were you!” you spat; with a harshness you didn’t think you had in you.

“Hm.” Visenna crossed her arms and watched you closely through narrowed eyes. You hated that she reminded you of Geralt as she seized you up – the had the same mannerisms, the same affinity for the non-verbal. Geralt could never know.

The druid’s scrutinizing glare made you squirm, and when you broke eye contact with her for a moment of reprieve, she moved to open your gate. For the briefest moment, your panic left you paralyzed as you watched the woman begin a confident stride towards the house.

“Stop!”

You whipped your head around as you heard Ciri come bursting out of the front door. She was wielding her sword up in front of her with one hand while the other hugged Wren onto her side.

“Do not come any closer, I am warning you!” she shrieked, her light eyes wild as her mousey hair blew behind her.

“Ciri-” you tried, holding one hand out to calm her.

“No!” she yelled, keeping her eyes and her sword fixed on Visenna, who was now standing stock-still at the gate.

“Stop trying to tame her, dear,” Visenna interjected. “Let the lion cub roar.”

At the sound of her old nickname, you took in a sharp breath and felt your heart drop to your stomach. It felt like the world stopped turning as Ciri reacted to the trigger.

Cirilla could handle discussions about her old life in small doses and only on her terms. Whenever the dreams came to her, it would take you hours to calm her down. More often than not, the episodes left you and Geralt drained and deeply concerned. Yennefer was really the only person Ciri responded to, and while her methods and lessons have helped, sometimes the pain brought on by the memories was simply too great.

Now, as the four of you stood in your garden, you could feel the earth begin to vibrate beneath your feet. Ciri’s jaw was clenched tight and her nostrils were flared. She slowly knelt down and placed Wren onto the ground before standing tall once again.

“Do not call me that.” She seethed, voice dripping with magic.

“Come now, child,” Visenna replied, seemingly unaware of the storm brewing, “I am your grandmother. I can help you; teach you.”

“You are not my grandmother!” Ciri shrieked, pushing a violent wind towards the druid which forced her to take a step back. “Get out of here! Leave!”

“I – I don’t mean any disrespect, Ciri. The Lioness was –”

“Ciri, no, wait –”

Everything happened so quickly. You felt the burning rush of Ciri’s magic roar past you and tried desperately to keep your eyes open so you could see Wren. Though your eyes stung against the harsh blast Ciri was emitting, you saw Wren crying soundlessly behind her sister, her chubby hands reaching out towards you in desperation. You tried to step towards her but an invisible force pushed you to the ground. You pulled yourself up on one elbow and tried to reach towards your baby without luck. Everything was burning and it took all of your strength to stay alert.

Meanwhile, Ciri’s blast of magic shot at Visenna like a bolt of lightening. Out of the tip of her sword and from her outstretched hand came a bright blue flame surrounded by pulses of violent wind. The destructive blast uprooted the gate and surrounding fence, throwing them back into the forest beyond. Burning shrapnel and earth flew towards her at breakneck speed, but the druid reacted quickly, pulling a portal with the help of an amulet and escaped the blast.

The garden in the path of Ciri’s blow burned harshly – leaving nothing behind but ash; except for the pocket where you lay. You tried to call out to Ciri to calm her down but there was no air for you to draw from. You let the force of her magic hold you down for a moment, trying to recuperate your strength, and when you looked up again you saw Wren taking a few wobbly steps toward her sister.

Holy fuck, you thought. These were her first steps.

You watched with wide eyes as Wren took step after step towards her sister, whose magic raged on. You were so drained by the weight of Ciri’s magic that you were convinced your eyes were deceiving you.

You watched in disbelief as Wren took step after step towards Ciri. The moment her little hand reached her sisters leg, the spell broke and Chaos released its hold on Cirilla. Drained from the exertion, she lost consciousness and started to collapse in on herself, her sword falling from her hand and onto the ground with a dull thud.

You scrambled to your feet and raced to Ciri, dropping to your knees once you reached her to catch her in her fall. You smoothed the ashen strands out of her face and rocked her gently from side to side, breathing shakily through your silent tears. You didn’t know when you started to cry, but when Wren waddled her way to you and nestled onto Ciri’s lap to press her face into the crook of your neck, you were sure you’d be crying forever.

“What the fuck,” Geralt growled upon seeing the destruction as he rode up to the house from the trail. In a growing panic, he urged Roach into a canter. When they got to where the gate should have been, he dismounted and ran towards the house at a sprint, his heart pounding in his ears. When he saw you sobbing on the ground with an unconscious Ciri and weeping Wren, he lost all control.

“Y/N! Y/N what happened?! Who did this?” he shouted, panic rising. When he spotted Ciri’s sword on the ground, Geralt fell to his knees beside you and quickly scanned you all for any sign of injury. You were weeping, holding tightly to Ciri, who was unconscious, and Wren, you

“Y/N please talk to me,” he said more harshly than he meant it, while brushing wild strands of hair out of your face gruffly.

“Ciri, she um –” you choked, working to slow your breathing, “she lost control of her magic…”

“Yeah, I can see that, love.” He said with an incredulous laugh, his eyes scanning your ruined garden with disbelief. “What the fuck happened to make her so upset? Did – did she have a nightmare? Did you, hm, say something to her?”

“Geralt – no,” you said quickly, the tears you managed to calm coming back with a vengeance.

“Y/N, I’m sorry I just…” Geralt regretted the insinuation that this might have been your fault but he’d only ever seen Ciri’s magic be this destructive when she was afraid or hurt. He was at a loss.

You shook your head and turned in his arms to look back at him, readjusting Ciri and Wren in your arms to free an arm which you placed onto Geralt’s chest. You held his eyes and took a steadying breath, unsure of how he’d react.

“We – we were in the garden just, just like always and,” you cast a quick glance down at your daughters before bringing your eyes back up to Geralt’s, both to ground yourself and to hopefully remind him of their proximity in order to temper his reaction, “and Visenna appeared at the gate.”

He gasped sharply at your words, and his body around you. You brought your hand up to his face and tried to calm him. His cat-like eyes were wild and unfocused – he looked like a frightened child and it broke your heart to see him like this. Wren seemed to sense this too, as she scrambled up and reached towards her father’s hair.

Wren’s light tugs managed to pull Geralt out of his shock momentarily and his eyes seemed to come back into focus. Seeing this change, you gently redirected his attention back to you.

“Visenna came for Wren… T-to take her or, or to raise her or something? She mentioned the letter…” Geralt clenched his jaw at the reminder.

You hadn’t motioned the letter in months. Geralt wasn’t at all ready to welcome his mother back into his life, and he definitely didn’t want her anywhere near his family.

“What did she do to Ciri? I swear I’ll –” he seethed.

“No, no, Geralt,” you interrupted gently, moving your hand back to his chest, “she didn’t get the chance. I don’t know what she was going to do, but Ciri came out with her sword,” you stopped short to look down at her with pride, “to protect us.”

“She did?” Geralt let out another incredulous breath, shaking his head at his child surprise.

“Yeah, it was like nothing I’ve ever seen. Her magic, it destroyed everything in its path but somehow, she was sheltering me from the blast. Visenna escaped through a portal, I- I think? But Ciri was… unstoppable.”

“Y/N, if Ciri was able to harness Chaos like this at her will, to protect you; this could mean –”

“Oh no, love, I’m sorry I’m not telling this right. She came out of the house with her sword to protect us but she lost control when Visenna called her the Lion Cub.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Oh, I know,” you agreed emphatically before adding, “and then she called herself Ciri’s grandmother…”

“Fuck!”

“Right,” you sighed, shaking your head as a shudder ran through you.

“Da-ee,” Wren said suddenly, pushing her little hands into her father’s face, causing a shocked laugh to escape his lips. Geralt’s face softened in a way he reserved for his youngest daughter and the sight of it was enough to pull you out of whatever was left of your panic.

“Oh, gods!” you exclaimed, “Geralt you won’t believe this.”

“Hm?” he hummed, not taking his eyes off Wren; he was completely enthralled by his baby.

“She took her first steps – and, gods it was incredible Geralt – when she touched Ciri, it pulled her out of the trance!” You gushed breathlessly.

“She did? That’s my girl!” he beamed, earning a proud giggle from the toddler. “Fuck I hate that I missed this, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you, goose?” he said, peppering light kisses across Wren’s little face.

“I know, love.” You said softly, leaning into his arms once more. “I’m so relieved to have you home.”

“Come on, Y/N, let’s get our girls into the house.” Geralt said as handed Wren off to you before picking Ciri up gently as he stood. You took his outstretched hand rose to your feet along-side him. “I’m not leaving you again, I promise.”

“Geralt, you say that every time.” You tease lightly, holding the front door open for him.

 “No, I mean it this time Y/N, really.” He said quietly, as he laid Ciri down in her room. “I can’t keep doing this. When I’m gone, all I do is think of you and the girls…” he trailed off when he noticed Wren had fallen asleep on the couch. You smiled tenderly as you watched him cradle her into his strong arms.

“My love, you know you’d go crazy if you stayed here with us all the time.” You said as you smoothed his hair out of his face.

“I’d go crazy if anything ever happened to you.” he whispered.

“Hey now… we’re fine,” you tired to reassure him, “today was an anomaly. I doubt Visenna would try that stunt again. Ciri will be fine, she just needs to rest, and tomorrow we can send word out to Yen for support. We – “you paused to take a steadying breath, “we can’t let fear rule our lives, Geralt.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, setting Wren down into her bed before wrapping his arms around your frame, “now when did you get to be so wise?”

“A certain witcher taught me a few things,” you said, a small smirk playing on your lips, “always preaching something or other but sometimes the lessons stick.”

“Is that so?” he growled, a fighting back a smirk of his own.”

“Hmm,” you teased, kissing him deeply.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

When the Weight Comes Down - 2

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); nothing for this chapter

This is dark! (biker) Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Your father’s a drunk, your mother a recluse, and you’re just another small town girl in Birch.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown

Note: Alright, I’ll spoil my boos and my bees. Hope you enjoy part two; it’s probably my fave chapter tbh honest. So fun to write! Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter Two: Ultra Mundane

Feel the ultra mundane Of another life A poet in the service

💀💀

You liked opening shifts, especially as the days got warmer. Spring wore on with as many sunny days as rainy days. That morning, you woke to a thick fog and the threat of rain floated in the air. You pulled on the crinkly raincoat and headed out. You were still yawning from the hectic night; you hadn’t gotten much sleep as your mind flitted back to the bar; the man and his intent blue eyes.

You unlocked the door, certain to turn the latch behind you. You had an hour to get everything in the oven and push yesterday’s remnants to the front of the display. You hung your coat in the back room and pulled on your apron and hairnet. Babs would be in at noon but the high school girl, Marcia, was due at opening.

The spatter of rain tapped on the window as you started your opening routine. It was peaceful. Despite your innate shyness, it was one of the few times you were completely alone. No customers, no neurotic mother, no drunken father, just you and the ovens.

That day’s special was cinnamon buns. They’d be placed in the cover glass platter just beside the till with a little card you’d made yourself. Uneven roses along thorny vines bordered the edge and displayed the one-day price. 

The buns were cool enough for you to start icing as you flipped the sign to open and let Marcia in. You went about your task as Marcia stood at the till. She was part-time; only worked on the weekends. She was bubbly and giggly. She told you stories about her classmates and the drama which seemed fit to a midday soap opera. In a way, you envied her. Well, in all ways, you did.

The Sunday rush began at ten, just after church service. The few tables in the bakery quickly filled as you set out the carafes with coffee and tea. Despite the downpour, the elderly crowd ventured the half-block from the steepled church and waited in line for their treats.

After noon, the flow of customers lulled as it usually did. Babs relieved Marcia of her half-shift and helped you mark down what was left of the older batches to half-off. The tinny bell over the door rang as Babs worked at cleaning pans in the back room. You looked up and your mouth fell open at the startlingly familiar face.

The man, Steve, ducked through the door. His hair was darkened by the rain and little droplets clung to his thick beard. He smoothed back his hair as his eyes glimmered and he smiled at you. You snapped your mouth shut and placed the last loaf of discount bread on the shelf.

“Hello,” You greeted him as you went to the till. “Can I get you something today?”

He neared the other side and his fingers tapped on the counter.

“It’s ugly out there,” He glanced over his shoulder.

“Heh, yeah,” You said awkwardly and ran your thumbs along the aged till. “Our cinnamon buns are on special. Just a few left.”

He tilted his head and leaned on the counter.

“You didn’t forget me already,” He raised his brows.

“No, no, I… remember,” You looked down at the faded numbers.

“How’s your pa?” He asked.

“He’s… fine, I’m sure.” You said quietly. 

“You make it yourself?” He tapped the glass lid of the platter. You nodded.

“It’s Babs’ recipe,” You muttered. “I just put it in the oven.”

“I’ll take it,” He reached for his wallet. “And coffee?”

“I’ll have to put a pot on if you don’t mind the wait,” You said.

“I’m in no rush to go back out,” He assured you as the windows shook at the rising winds outside. “Thunderstorms tonight.”

“Mmhmm,” You punched in his order. “Anything else?”

“Cinnamon raisin bread?” He read the board above the loaves. “Is it any good?”

“If you like sweet stuff,” You looked over at the shelf.

“I love sweet stuff,” He said. “I’ll take a loaf.”

“Sliced?” You asked.

“Please,” He answered and you grabbed him a bag.

You returned to the counter and read out his total. He handed you a bill and your fingers brushed against his palm as he took his change. He dropped it in the tip cup and winked. You bit your cheek and grabbed a plate for his bun. You took it out with the tongs and slid it across to him with a knife and fork. 

He thanked you and you told him to sit and you’d bring him coffee when it was ready. He reluctantly backed away and sat at the table closest to the counter. You turned to load a fresh filter into the machine and scooped the grinds in carefully. You grabbed the little tray of creamers and sugar packets and rounded the counter to bring it to him.

“I forgot to ask if you wanted decaf,” You set it down. “I’m sorry.”

“Regular’s fine,” He leaned back in his chair. “You like working here?”

“Um, sure,” You shrugged and made to turn away. 

“Hey, wait,” He said and glanced around the empty bakery. “What’s the rush? Not very busy in here.”

“Your coffee,” You uttered as the grind of the machine sounded behind you.

“I’m patient,” He assured you. “I just wanna talk.”

“Well, I’m working and I shouldn’t--”

“I’ll take the blame, doll,” He said. “Your ma seems like a nice lady.”

You looked away as you rubbed your arm. You shrugged again.

“What? You don’t think she’s nice?”

“She is…” You picked at your sleeve. “But… she doesn’t like bikers.”

He chuckled and cut into his bun. You tried to walk away again.

“She’s a smart lady then,” He said. “I don’t like them much myself.”

You hovered awkwardly at the other side of his table. He chewed and wiped the corner of his mouth.

“And you? You hate bikers, too?”

“Well, I…” You licked your dry lips and his eyes followed the movement. “I never thought much about it, I guess.”

“What time you done, doll?”

You blinked and frowned. You glanced over at the swinging door to the back room. The clink and clank of pans continued as Babs went about her work.

“Why?” You asked.

“I’ll drive you home,” He said as he looked through the window. “It’s a bit wild out there.”

“No, you really-- I can get home.” You slowly inched away. “But thank you.”

“I got the truck.” He insisted. “ Don’t like taking the bike out much in this weather.”

“Really, I’m okay,” You backed up. “I should get your coffee.”

“What time?” He asked again. 

You stopped at the corner of the counter. You stared at him as he dropped his fork and took a bite out of the bun. He watched you closely.

“Two o’clock,” You peeked at the clock; it was already after one. “But you don’t need to--”

“I’ll take my time then,” He said. “And you take yours, doll.”

💀

You were fifteen minutes over time when Babs finally assured you she could close on her own. You were hoping she’d ask you to stay so you had an excuse to send Steve away. You’d stay even if she didn’t pay. 

The thought of being alone with the man was terrifying. You’d only ever been alone with your father and he barely acknowledged you outside of asking for another beer, berating you, or worse.

You untied your apron and hung it on the hook and took your coat. You pulled it on and grabbed your bag before you pushed through into the cafe. Babs followed but drew you back into the kitchen as she saw Steve standing by the window.

“How long has he been here?” She asked as the door swung back into place.

“Almost an hour,” You said evasively. “He’s leaving now.”

She was silent as she stared at you. Her rosy cheeks paled.

“With you?”

You looked down. She tutted and touched your elbow.

“I tried to say no but… it’s just a ride. He’s being nice.” You squeaked.

“Nice? Those men aren’t nice.” She hissed. “You be careful.”

“He has no reason to hurt me,” You argued.

“No reason? He doesn’t need one.”

“Babs, look at me,” You frowned. “Come on.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” She warned. “He definitely will.”

“I don’t… know what to do,” You said quietly. “To make him go.”

“You call me when you get home,” She drew you into a hug. “Twenty minutes our I’m closing early and coming to find you.”

“You don’t really think--”

“I don’t know what to think, sweets,” She said. “But I know his type are up to no good.”

You hugged your bag and nodded. “I’ll call.”

“Your ma wouldn’t want you hanging ‘round that man,” She tisked.

“I know,” You put your hand on the door. “I’m not too keen on it either.”

You pushed through once more and hesitantly rounded the counter. Steve turned away from his vigil at the window; the rain had slowed but the sky was getting darker. He had his loaf of bread in hand. You kept your bag in your arms as you squeezed it tighter and tighter.

“Sorry, I forgot… to tidy the racks,” You lied. “And my ma will be waiting for me.”

“I’m sure she will,” He went to the door. “Good thing you’re not walking.”

“Thank you, again.” You neared as he opened the door with a dull chime. “You don’t--”

“You act like I’m the first person to do you a favour,” He quipped as you pulled up your hood, your other arm still wrapped around your bag.

“My pa will be in a state too,” You stepped out ahead of him as he zipped up his leather jacket. 

You turned towards your house but he caught your arm. He pulled you back and guided you down to the large truck double-parked in front of Lloyd’s bookshop. It was a lot newer than your father’s and it actually ran. He opened the door as he turned his chin down as the rain slaked over his head and you climbed up quickly.

He closed the door and rushed around the front of the truck. He got in and shoved his keys in the slot as he tossed the bread behind his seat. He turned the engine and let the car idle as he reached into his jacket. He pulled out his phone and wiped the stray droplet off the screen with the thigh of his jeans. He dropped it in the cupholder and shifted gears before he pulled out.

“You work tomorrow?” He asked.

“Yeah,” You answered as you watched the rivulets streaming down the window. The steady beat of the windshield wipers interspersed the patter of rain. 

“You ever get a day off?”

“Wednesdays and Thursdays,” You regretted answering. You should have lied but you were never very good at that.

He slowed at the sign and you felt him looking at you. You were too scared to look back. He slowly hit the gas and you leaned against the door as you clung to your page.

“Wednesday night,” He said. “How about you come down to the bar for a drink?”

You glanced over at him but quickly turned your eyes ahead of you. Your lips parted. You were silent.

“Hey?” He prodded.

“I don’t drink,” You said.

“Jeez, I’m not asking you to pick up a habit, just one drink.” He urged.

“My ma--”

“How old are you?” He asked as he came in sight of your house. “What are we? Couple years apart? You’re an adult. Let your ma enjoy an empty nest for the night.”

You inhaled and sucked your lip in nervously. As he came closer to your house, your stomach flipped.

“I don’t know.” You muttered.

“I’ll be by at nine to get you. Plenty of time to get yourself sorted.” He said.

“I didn’t say yes,” You replied as he stopped behind your father’s busted Ford.

His eyes flashed as he turned to you and you looked back shyly.

“Wednesday. Nine.” He stated as his arm stretched between your seats, his hand on your headrest. “Tell your ma I’ll have you home by midnight. She doesn’t need to worry so much.”

Your lashes fluttered and you bent your head. You stared at the wet spots on your canvas bag. You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle. His hand fell to your shoulder to stop you.

“Wait,” He grabbed his phone. “You’re number?”

“I don’t--” You stared at his cell and pursed your lips. “I don’t have a cell phone. I can give you my house number.”

“No phone?” He repeated. “No, it’s okay.” He fixed the string of your raincoat. “I’ll see you ‘round.”

You pulled the handle and tumbled out onto your feet. The mud squelched around your shoes. You should’ve worn your boots but you had only the sense to bring your coat. You didn’t look back as you closed the door and rushed up to your porch. The curtains along the front room moved as you opened the screen door. The tires squelched behind you and you rushed inside. Your mother greeted you from the living room doorway.

“I told you not to talk to that man,” She said.

“Ma,” You hung your bag and undid your coat. “I tried. Okay? I’m tired. I worked--”

“And I’ve been cleaning this mess all day,” She huffed. “Your pa made a hell of a mess when he finally woke up.”

“Ma, please,” You kicked your shoes off. “Just-- I just got home.”

“I don’t want him around here,” She crossed her arms.

You dragged your feet down the hall and stopped in front of her. 

“Neither do I,” You said. “Maybe next time, you can try telling him.”

You turned and went to your room. You closed yourself in and felt your heart racing. Wednesday wasn’t very far at all. Three days. Barely a wink in a small town like this.

[krreader]

you all know me, there’s only a few of my scenarios that have only one genre, so if I were you I’d just read through all of them and see what you like. I tried to put each story to the genre section I thought it’d fit most!

masterlists for other idols/groups can be found here here

fluff:

→ surprising you at school/uni (+ angst) 
 → soulmate!au 
 → soulmate!au - the aftermath (+ crack) 
 → youtuber!reader (+ crack) 
 → meeting you while filming bon voyage
 → meeting foreign producer!reader 
→ falling for a hufflepuff!reader - hogwarts!au (fluff)
 → falling for a gryffindor!reader - hogwarts!au (+ angst ; crack)
 → falling for a ravenclaw!reader - hogwarts!au (+ crack ; mentions of smut) 
→ falling for a slytherin!reader - hogwarts!au (+ angst ; mentions of smut) 
→ falling for a beauxbaton!reader - hogwarts!au (+ angst)
 → your kid writing a poem about why you love their father 
 → approaching you in public, when you don’t speak korean (+ crack) 
 → taking care of you when you’re on your period
 → kissing their best friend (+ crack) 
→ family day at the beach 
 → you thinking you’re not their ideal type, even though you are 
→ playfully shoving you away when you want to help them (+ crack ; smut)
 → you getting a call during tour that your boyfriend is sick/hurt (+ angst)
 → falling for their teacher - college!au / student!bts / teacher!reader (+ crack) 
→ being with their teacher - college!au / student!bts / teacher!reader (+ crack ; smut) 
→ helping you with school work (+ crack) 
 → them being your first kiss 
 → having children different ways 
 → meeting you, a friend of GOT7, at a barbecue (+ hints of angst) 
→ falling for their neighbor (+ crack)
 → taking their family to a vacation
 → cheering you up after an exam (+ angst) 
 → you being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness - the aftermath (happy ending) 
→ you dancing to one of their songs of the new album (+ angst ; crack ; smut) 
→ having to reveal your relationship during an interview
 → you joining them on tour 
 → coming home from tour 
→ spending a cold and rainy day with you (+ mentions of smut)
 → you accompanying them to the UN General Assembly (+ crack)
 → them having to convince their kid they’re okay when flying somewhere (+ angst)
 → being with you when you get your ears pierced (+ crack)
 → you taking care of them when they’re sick (+ crack) 
 → giving/receiving a massage (+ crack ; smut)
 → saying I love you for the first time 
 → randomly complimenting you 
→ talking to your baby belly 
→ winter dates (+ crack)
 → taking care of you when you’re sick 
 → you being their older sister 
 → you being their best friend since childhood (+ crack ; hints of angst)
 → meeting you, their internet friend, for the first time (+ angst)
 → other members teasing your boyfriend for being soft around you 
 → proposing to you during an interview/on a stage (+ hints of angst) 
→ waiting for the result of a pregnancy test when they have to leave for tour (+ crack ; angst) 
→ doing their daughter’s hair/make-up/nails (+ crack)
 → another member comforting you (+ angst) 
→ other members finding you and your boyfriend cuddled up together on the couch (+ crack ; mentions of smut)
 → taking part in Return of Superman (+ crack) 
→ asking actress!reader out after a show (+ hints of crack)
 → becoming insecure because of how famous you are become as an idol (+ angst) 
→ you being the blackpink maknae and meeting the boys 
 → you having to help them when their arm is broken 
→ you as their sister (pre-debut) - sister!reader
 → their nighttime routine with you 
 → your child being obsessed with their BT21 character (+ crack)
 → them as your teachers - non idol!au ; hogwarts!au (+ crack) 
→ cuddling with you (+ crack ; smut) 
→ you being an elementary school teacher and them spending a day with you at school 
 → you being a fan of a girl group and them being supportive of that (+ crack) 
→ falling for you through a partner project - non idol!au ; high school!au (+ angst ; hints of smut) 
→ helping you relieve stress (+ smut) → falling for someone they’re working with (+ angst ; mentions of smut) → learning your native language (+ crack) → making their own lullaby for your baby → asking you out after you successfully finish a collab together → making their surprise return after taking a hiatus because you’ve been sick (+ angst) → you as TXT’s older sister - + txt (+ crack) → playing with your hair → meeting you on the bachelor - bachelor!au (+ hints of angst) → you and him getting your first pet together → home date  → you, an angel, being in love with them, a demon - non idol!au ; demon/angel!au (+ angst) → comforting you before a surgery (+ angst) → telling your children your love story (+ crack) → falling for you, their newest make-up artist (+ smut ; hints of angst) → dating an “average” girl (+ angst) → your child that you raised together, despite not being together, playing matchmaker → proposing to you in the least romantic situations → saying something cute/funny when meeting their parents (+ crack) → spending New Year’s Eve with you → getting your first apartment/house → PDA

crack:

→ ruining your round of superstar bts 
 → talking to another member about your sex life and you overhearing it (+ smut ; fluff ; angst) 
 → scaring you on halloween and you accidentally slapping them (+ fluff)
 → marrying you in vegas (+ angst ; smut) 
→ them being horny, but you’re on your period (+ smut) 
→ having a sex dream about you when you’re next to them (+ smut) 
→ you meeting ghost!bts in a haunted house - supernatural!au / non idol!au (+ fluff ; hints of angst ; hints of smut) 
→ no hands challenge (+ fluff ; smut)
 → them being drunk (+ fluff) → you losing a bet and having to be their slave for a day (+ crack) → you calling them - as your best friend - to cheer you up after a bad day (+ angst) → asking another member for a condom (+ smut)

angst:

→ reconnecting with their ex girlfriends, which makes you upset (+ fluff) 
 → drunkenly cheating on you during tour
 → you being their affair 
→ meeting your racist parents
 → only realizing that they love you when you already left (+ fluff) 
 → you being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness (angst) 
→ you being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness - the aftermath (angst version) 
→ trying to win you back (+ fluff)
 → leaving for tour when they have a newborn baby at home (+ fluff) 
 → you tending to their wounds - mafia!au (+ fluff)
 → inspired by without me by halsey 
 → inspired by without me by halsey - the aftermath 
 → you being a former foster kid and other members noticing you being “clingy”(+ fluff) 
 → complaining about you behind your back and then you trying to ‘improve’ yourself (+ fluff) 
 → you watching a video of them fainting - sister + idol!reader (+ fluff)
 → frat house leader x unpopular girl - college!au (+ fluff)
 → making you feel insecure (+ fluff) 
→ BigHit forcing you two to break up, but them proposing to you instead (+ fluff)
 → telling you they’re ashamed of you/giving you a reason they never wanted to make your relationship public (+ fluff)
 → falling for someone that’s working for them - royalty!au (+ fluff) → telling you they don’t want the child you’re expecting 
→ telling you they don’t want the child you’re expecting - the aftermath (+ fluff)
 → you confessing to them, even though they’re already in a relationship
 → you confessing to them, even though they’re already in a relationship - the aftermath (+ fluff)
 → rejecting you when you ask them out 
 → rejecting you when you ask them out - the aftermath (+ fluff)
 → being forced to break up with you 
 → being forced to break up with you - the aftermath (+ fluff) 
→ confessing to you when they know you’re dying 
 → inspired by because I had you by shawn mendes 
→ chasing after you after a fight about the child you’re expecting (+ fluff)
 → running into his mean ex (+ fluff)
 → being protective of you - vampire!bts ; human!reader (+ fluff) 
→ you becoming scared of them after you witness them kill someone with a family - non idol!au ; mafia!au
 → falling for their friend with benefits 
 → your child not being happy about you wanting/having another child (+ hints of fluff and smut) 
→ pranking you and it going wrong (+ fluff ; crack)
 → surprising you in a romantic way after a hard day (+ fluff)
 → overhearing your friends telling you to break up with them for your own good (+ fluff)
 → inspired by Kiss and Make Up by Dua Lipa and BLACKPINK (+ smut) 
→ meeting each other as enemies - various au’s ; non idol!au (+ fluff)
 → meeting each other as enemies (the aftermath) - various au’s ; non idol!au (+ fluff) 
→ fighting with you because of wanting to raise your child differently (+ fluff)
 → arranged marriage - mafia!au (+ fluff ; hints of smut) → you telling them you’re pregnant, before they could break up with you (+ fluff)
 → soulmates, but from rivalry houses - hogwarts!au ; soulmate!au (+ fluff) → you comforting them after something went wrong during a concert (+ fluff) → spending one last day together → them cheating with your best friend → you being upset after planning for a trip doesn’t go as planned (+ fluff) → you being upset about them not spending time with you on your days off due to a comeback (+ hints of fluff)

smut:

→ exposing your/their kinks to other members (+ crack)
 → sleeping with you while one of their songs is playing (+ crack)
 → taking your virginity as your best friend (+ fluff ; hints of angst)
 → other members teasing you for having been too loud the night before (+ crack)
 → them being the good guy, you being the bad girl (+ angst ; fluff)
 → them being your affair and becoming jealous/possessive (+ angst ; fluff) 
→ neck kissing (+ crack ; fluff) 
→ wanting to have sex without a condom (+ fluff) 
→ being stuck in a closet with you and having a boner - non idol!au ; college!au (+ fluff) → being sexually desperate when they come home (+ crack) → morning sex (+ fluff) → eating you out while you’re doing a livestream - celebrity!reader → foreplay (+ fluff)

other:

→ competition - + got7 / idol!reader (fluff ; angst ; crack) → regrets series - the aftermath (+ fluff) 


[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #262

WoW will probably start to take over my life again tomorrow oof so expect surveys to slow down some.

What do you wish people wouldn't call you? The only one I don't really like is Girt calling me "kid." He doesn't mean it in a derogatory way or anything like that; he's just always called me that since I was a high school freshman and he was a senior. Now as an adult that's been through things I don't believe anyone deserves, it's kinda weird but more so frustrating as, regardless of his intentions, I somewhat feel belittled. I've never said anything directly about my discomfort, though, so it's my own fault. I just don't want to make him feel bad for doing it for years lmao. What do people say about your name upon learning it for the first time? They don't say anything; my name is very ordinary. Why did you choose the hair length you have? I have a few reasons. The biggest is because I was just bored of average, long hair, and the fact I was at the time having a very hard time with self-care. My hair would get incredibly knotted to where it was hard to even brush it sometimes. Makes me shiver thinking back on it. For my own sanity and ease, it needed to be gone. Also, with how STUPID hot I get, cutting it all off helped with the weight of my hair (it's v thick) but more importantly how hot it made me it the warm months. Zero regrets chopping it all off, omg. If your hair could be ANY color, what would you pick? At this very moment, I really want silver hair. Do you wish your hair was longer or shorter than it is now? It needs a trim. Do you think you're attractive? (It's okay to say yes =P) No; I think I wouldn't look ALL to bad if I lost some more weight (I've literally been on a weight loss plateau for two fuckin years). When I was perfectly healthy, I didn't think I was very pretty even back then, but now that I look back, I feel I was decently pretty. Not gorgeous, but. What is your favorite band? Ozzy Osbourne. :') What is your favorite movie? The Lion King. The second one is like directly behind it. Finding Nemo is also very precious to me. What is your favorite book or magazine? The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton and Johnny Got His Gun by Dalton Trumbo. What is your favorite song? Ugh, this is impossible. I love way way too many. I suppose maybe... "Death Inc." by Motionless In White? Idk. What is your favorite color to wear? Black, duh. If you could visit anywhere in the world, where would you go and why? South Africa because I want to spend time with and take pictures at the Kalahari Meerkat Project and especially pet a Whiskers meerkat. I WILL cry. Meerkats literally changed my life. So many people I wouldn't know... If you got the chance and wouldn't get caught, would you cheat on a lover? NOOOOO the guilt though. Someone drops a fifty dollar bill and doesn't notice. Will you tell them? Definitely. I'd feel awful otherwise. Would you ever pierce something on your face? I already have my lip and tongue pierced, and I did have my nostril pierced, too. I want more, particularly an undereye microdermal if I can switch to contacts... which I don't like. I think it'd look pretty dumb with glasses. Are you selfish? EVERYONE should be to a degree depending on the occasion. Doing what is best for you is not a bad thing. Are you mean to people who are different from you? Wow no. I find people "different" from me interesting. Do you make fun of obese people? By the BMI definition, I am one of those people. So take a guess? Do you eat when you're upset? I have to fight that extremely hard, because I usually do experience the impulse to comfort eat when I'm very depressed. I've gotten way better at it, though. What if you had to choose between feeding yourself or feeding your pets? I honestly don't know for sure what I'd do... but I think I would prioritize my pets, honestly. It would break me to watch them suffer and lose weight. What if you saw someone being beaten on the street? YOOOO I READ THIS AS "EATEN" FIRST. But anyway I'd call the cops ASAP. There's a possibility I'd intervene if I felt myself capable of taking on the assailant. What if it was you being beaten? According to the night terrors I've had beyond count, curse like a motherfucker and fight back while calling for help. Who's the most important person to you (related)? Mom. Who's the most important person to you (non-related)? Sara. What's more important to you, happiness or success? Happiness. What's more important to you, your happiness or someone else's? Depends on the person. List the ten most important things to you: Oh, yikes. No order: 1.) My peace of mind, health, and happiness; 2.) my family; 3.) my pets; 4.) my career future; 5.) my friends; 6.) a YouTuber I've never met lmao; 7.) my pebble from my partial hospitalization program; 8.) Teddy's ashes; 9.) the Mark mug Sara gave me sobs; 10.) and the RP site I'm on. Like if it disappeared tomorrow with all the profiles and history and stuff I would break the earth in half oof. Have you ever lived in a mobile home? No. Have you ever had your bedroom in a basement? No. How many times in the past week have you eaten fast food? Hm. I don't think once. In the house - shoes, socks, slippers or bare feet? Bare feet.\ Do you consider dogs inside or outside pets? Usually indoor, depending on the breed and the time of year. What’s your favourite piece of furniture in your house? ig my bed? Have you ever had a crush on a friend’s parent? Yikes no. Do you prefer carbonated or uncarbonated drinks? Sucker for carbonated over here. Favorite thing that you can see up in the sky? A full moon. Would you rather eat at the table or in your room? I'm so used to eating in my room. Do you like the sound of birds singing when you wake up, or is it annoying? I love it. If someone gave you a kitten, would you keep it? I'd love to, but it'd really be my mom's choice. What’s your ideal activity for a rainy day? Nap oh lawd. Favorite type of cracker? Cheez-Its. Banana sandwich... yum or yuck? Only yum with peanut butter. Animal you like to watch but sort of creeps you out: Spiders. Bagels or English Muffins? Bagels. Do you like to daydream about sex? I do it sometimes. Which of your parents do you laugh more with? My dad is really funny. Have you ever been to an open casket wake or funeral? Wake, yes. Who mows the lawn at your house? A family friend. Have you ever written a story from beginning to end? When I was little and was writing that meerkat story, yes. I started on the sequel but didn't get far. What’s a big turn on for you? Being genuinely interested in what makes me me. Actually wanting to know the littlest things about me. Just show sincere interest. Are you doing anything tomorrow? I do know I'm fuckin finally getting my laptop home. Does your car have a name? N/A Do you own clothes from any celebrity clothing lines? No, but a bitch is getting a Cloak shirt or hoodie at some point. Who was the last person you ranted about? My bitch of a cousin for being a disrespectful fuck when all my dying grandmother wants is to talk as a group with the whole family. I ranted to Mom though, not in the group chat because I'm actually mature enough to not talk shit when, again, all our grandma wants is peace and love between us at the end of her life. I was SEETHING. Know any magic tricks? I don't remember any. I LOOOOOVED those magic kits as a kid, though. Is there music in your head right now? Right now "Dirty Pretty" by In This Moment is on, so does that count as "in my head?" Would you like to become a dancer? It'd be very cool, most certainly, and due to taking dance classes so long, I tend to think of potential dances in my head when I hear like... any song, lol. I'd love to be one if I had the grace and endurance + no hyperhydrosis. Name one person of the same sex as you you wouldn't mind doing: Hunny I'm bisexual, there's a lot, lmao. Dream woman? Uhhhh. Maybe my friend Alon. She was like one of my first hints I wasn't straight, lmao. But idk, I find soooo many women to be attractive. What is the most gory film you've seen? One of the Saw movies. What a surprise, ik. Ever fallen down a hole? ZOINKS no. Do you work better in a clean or messy environment? Clean, durr. Do you know any vegans? Only online. Do you like bananas? I am VERY picky with bananas. They have to be perfect. My preferred ripeness lasts only like, two days. .-. What's a film you've seen that confused you? Oh boy, idk. I don't watch many films... especially if I'm confused and the plot isn't great, I'll stop watching. WAIT!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!! I went to see Warcraft when it came out and I was so fuckin lost just because the orcs' voices are so goddamn deep that I just sat there like "uhhhh sir come again????" I didn't play Classic, and I'm not great at remembering every aspect of the plot, so. I'm to this day p confused lmao. Do you ever wear black lipstick? I really only ever wear black. What is next to your bed? I have a white shelf to my left where I put my meds, a drink, the fan... that kind of stuff. My cat's food bowl is to the right of it on the floor. Are your fingernails dirty? Nope. Have you ever fell for someone believing you could "fix" them? Not for that reason, no. Describe a picture of yourself that you hate: LASKJDLKFJAOWJE my friend took a picture of me eating a hot dog once and joked she was putting that shit on Facebook and it was funny as shit but thank Christ she was in fact joking. Would you rather play a good or an evil character in a play? While I'd love to be the evil one, I'd probably make it too cheesy because I am a BAD actress. Has anybody ever lied to you just to impress you? Story of one of my "best" friendships. What's your favourite shade of blue? Baby blue, probs. Can you remember a world before iPods? I do indeed. On rides to school when I sat in the back, I would bring one of those portable CD players with me to play discs. Where did you go on your last date? I can't remember the place's name... Lume's? Something like that? Breakfast place in Illinois. Do people find you "cute"? It happens sometimes. Who does the best remixes? Oh idk, I don't pay much attention to this. Where do you get your news? Facebook, lmao. What social stigma does society need to get over? What DOESN'T it need to get over???? What was the last photo you took? Probably something funny on Facebook to send to Sara lmao. I will get memes to her some way. What mythical creature do you wish actually existed? As badly as I want to say dragons, I don't think it'd be a great idea, heh... Maybe dryads. What are you interested in that most people aren't? As of recently, TARANTULAS. I've fallen in LOVE with them. What's the most ridiculous thing you have bought? No clue. What sounds hit you with major nostalgia every time you hear them? The gem collecting sound from Spyro. It was my text ringtone on my last phone! I need to move it over to my current one. What was the biggest realization you have had about yourself? I was possibly the bigger villain than Jason in the breakup. But idk. What topic could you spend forever talking about? Gay rights. Which way should toilet paper hang, over or under? In the original patent, it was designed as going over. GMM knowledge. Therefore I find over as correct, BUT I ultimately don't care like... at all. I don't even really notice when I go in the bathroom. Are you usually early or late? Usually slightly early. What do you wish you knew more about? Politics so I could be a more helpful member of society alksdjfka;lw What is the most annoying question you've been asked? It's not really like, annoying I guess, but the closest would be just how frequently people see my lip ring and ask if it hurt. It's incredibly sensitive skin, and even if it wasn't, a needle went all the way through it. Like... guess. News flash: being stabbed hurts, lmao. Like I always explain that it's not awful, but duh, there is pain. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? Yummm chocolate. What was the worst phase in your life? 2020 thinks it's a bad guy, but lemme tell ya, shit's got nothing on 2016. Do you like sprinkles on your ice cream? I hate sprinkles on anything. Just an annoying texture with negligible flavor. The last time you went out to eat - what did you order? It was just a milkshake. Do you have all 32 teeth? I'm missing two wisdom teeth that just never grew in. Do you know how to do the moon walk? Never tried. What is one of your favorite comedy movies? White Chicks. Has anybody ever told you that you have a good singing voice? Yeah. I don't think I do. Onion rings or french fries? Fries. Not an onion ring fan. Who is the best cook that you know? Sara's mom is great, omgggg. She's cooked things I generally don't like yet I wound up enjoying. Can you name 3 different dinosaurs? Let's see: Spinosaurus, stegosaurus, velociraptor. I was a dino kid, man, just gettin' started. *finger guns* What's the largest amount that you can juggle at one time? I can’t juggle. What was your favorite thing to go on at the playground as a kid? I'd daaaash for the swingset. Do you know how much you weighed at birth? How much? Ummm I think 6-something pounds? 7? Where do you spend most of your time at? At home. In my bed. Exciting stuff, y'know. What noise does your favorite animal make? If my memory serves me right, they have over 40 vocalizations, but I'd say barking and chirping are the most ordinary/basic. Have you ever fallen in the toilet when you were little? lol I don't think so. What is the best kind of mac & cheese? I'm a basic-ass Velveeta bitch lmao. Who is your favorite oldies band? Boy oh BOY, you're asking a classic rock/metal addict. Of course it's Ozzy tho. But I love soooo many!! What is your favorite farm animal? Pigs! Do you like to play Monopoly? I'm not a big fan, no. What is the most fun restaurant you have ever been to? I like the vibe of Buffalo Wild Wings. Or I just have good memories there. What size bra do you wear? I'm actually not sure. I haven't bought new ones in a while and I don't think the ones I currently have are the right size anyway. Do you have a ceiling fan in your room? No. Who was your favorite Sesame Street character? I don't remember too well, but I think Cookie Monster? What about Muppet? Idr. What was going through your mind during the presidential campaign? I am sadly paying no attention. What do you think of the Duggar family ( 17+ kids )? Could you handle taking care of that many children? Ew, hell no. I don't believe the number of children warranted in a family should be legally monitored, it's much more difficult than that, BUT RATHER I'm very firm about knowing when it's more than enough. Population control is a thing. NOBODY needs that many kids imo, not even close to that. So far, what is the number one, best decision you have ever made? How has it affected your life? Letting go of Jason/accepting life without him. It has made my life much, much brighter and healthier. Have you reunited with any old friends recently? Was it awkward, or just like old times? No. When was the last time you talked to your first ex? February of 2017. Wow... been a long time. How different is your online personality from your offline personality? I am MUCH more outgoing and talkative online. What are your favorite holiday-themed movies? Jim Carrey's How The Grinch Stole Christmas, Hocus Pocus, The Nightmare Before Christmas, etc... Do you listen to Christmas/winter-themed music when the season comes around? No. Is there anything that you do that’s potentially controversial? Yes. What is your most recent obsession? Most recent, whew, tarantulas. I'm really gonna try talking Mom into letting me get one when/if we move. Do you say “merry Christmas” or “happy holidays”? To you, does it really matter which one is said/you say? Do you do your best to remain politically correct? Instinctually, I say "merry Christmas;" that's what has always been said around me. I personally see zero problem in calling it whatever... Like just appreciate someone wishing you well. You get the concept, and that's all you really need imo. As for political correctness, I'm kinda... down the middle? Like I feel it's been taken way, way too far, but I see some caution in wording as wise. If you could relive one week of your life, which would it be, and why? Would you do anything differently, or keep it all the same? Ugh, my first visit at Sara's. I just loved it so, so much. I think I wouldn't change a thing. It felt perfect. Is there a part of your life you wish you could remember, but can’t? Sometimes when I take these surveys and they ask "how old were you when...", ha ha. Frustrates me. What was the last thing/event to trigger a painful memory? It was last night, actually. The Final Fantasy VII remake is out, and I started watching a YouTuber I like play it. Jason got me to play the original, playing it a lot when we spent time together, but I only got a bit beyond half-way through before my PS3 broke. Cherished memories, so it was decently triggering indeed. I loved the game though and ABSOLUTELY want to see it played out in its entirety, so I shoved past the pain and am glad I did. Now I'm anxiously awaiting the next video aljkdsjfawe Y'ALL I wanna play more FF. What do you think of people that choose not to vote? I can't say anything, seeing as I never have voted before... Are you keeping anything from the people you love? Nothing important, no. Have you ever written a suicide note, whether joking or not? Yes, and that stupid novel is one of my biggest regrets. Who the FUCK would joke about that, though. When was the last time you let something ‘go to your head’? Not even like an hour ago. This happens allllll the time. When are you most likely to show off? Maaan Guitar Hero used to be good for that shit, ha ha. I was an expert at that back in its day. I haven't played it in forever, and on the rare occasion I do, I am suuuper rusty. Which would you prefer: spectacular view of the ocean, or of the mountains? MOUNTAINS!!!!!! Do you follow any dating rules/play any dating games? No. When was the last time you felt extremely confident about something? ME????????? CONFIDENT???????????? WHAT A CONCEPT!!!!!!!!!! When was the last time you blew the seeds off of a dandelion? Wow, not a clue. Probably not since we lived at my old house and I would go on walks down the path. What was the last thing that happened that you couldn’t explain? Oh I dunno. What do you do with all of your spare change? I just keep it in my wallet. Where did you hear about your all-time favorite band? He was and still is one of my mom's favorites! How many cans of soda do you drink in a day? AHHHHHH soda is my biggest nutritional weakness. I refuse to let myself drink more than one a day now though. It's funny and disgusting, when I was HEALTHY AND SKINNY I could on a rare occasion start a fourth can in a single day. Nowadays the thought almost makes me shiver. What is the oldest thing that you own? and the newest? The oldest thing, ummm. Not sure. Probably a stuffed animal in the attic. I just got two new books today! Is there anything you wish you had never found out about? Yep. A number of things. What is something that you refuse to believe in? Astrology. What is something you wish more people believed in? Gay rights. What food is your ultimate comfort food? Ice cream. Have you ever put anything inside a time capsule? What? OMGGGG I remember doing this in elementary school as a class! I don't recall what was in it, though. Is there too much violence on tv, or are people to sensitive? Too sensitive, but also negligent. It's got a lot to do with raising, imo. Don't show kids wild shit at too young of an age, and when they are shown this kind of stuff, you make it obvious that the behavior/content is unacceptable irl. Entertainment is not responsible for someone's shitty actions made with their own volition. What is something you used to fear, but no longer do? My first huge fear was thunderstorms. Now I enjoy them lol. Do you think it’s important to know a 2nd language? Not mandatory, no. Especially depends on if you're going anywhere. Do you know anyone that’s just naturally good at almost everything? My old friend Hannia IMMEDIATELY came to mind. She was the best in class GPA-wise, first chair for flute in band, and just in general STUPID talented. Do you know anyone that’s just bad at everything? BITCH ME What is one emoticon you use often? A sarcastic :^) or <3 What is one emoticon you almost never use? A lot, particularly ones with equal signs for eyes.

[reneejuliet]

If These Walls Could Talk

Welcome back.

I’ve wanted to make another post for well over the last week, but unfortunately that desire came while I was working 7 straight days in a row, 12 hours each day. So to say I was a little more than exhausted by the time I got home each day is an understatement. In addition, I’m once again switching to my night shift schedule, so my mind and body are all out of whack. HOWEVER. As I try to go back to sleep this beautiful rainy morning before returning to work tonight, I can’t. Because my mind is alive with everything I haven’t been able to share with anyone this past week, and it needs said.

It’s still a little strange for me to turn to my blog in these moments, and not my journal. As you can imagine, since I was never a very good blogger, I certainly am not a great journalist, either. But it was an outlet - is an outlet, still. Only, with carpal tunnel in my right wrist/hand, it’s become increasingly harder to hash out all the thoughts I want to on paper. Plus, my fingers have always kept better pace with my mind when keys are involved versus a pen; not to mention the legibility this affords me upon later reflection, as sometimes I’ll write so goshdarn fast and messy that even I, myself, can’t decipher what the hell I was trying to say. 

So, sleepy and shivering, I welcome you back into the pit of thoughts.

I am going to be addressing some slight depression issues, “broken home”/family issues, self-harm, and anxiety issues in this post. Still not sure how exactly this whole thing works, so I hope this is enough of a warning for anyone sensitive to those.

Without unraveling the entire rat’s nest that is my childhood, let me just say that I’ve never really known a “peaceful” home. Brief summary: my mother was absent a lot due to her own depression, my father has quite a temper, and they both fought like it was their jobs. This is why I came to love Peter Pan - whenever the yelling came pounding through my walls, I curled up underneath my window with my suitcase packed and wished for nothing else than for Peter to come take me away to Neverland. Obviously, this never came to fruition, but it helped some part of my tiny brain cope. If you’ve ever read Peter Pan, you know each child’s Neverland is their own making - I cannot tell you how upset it makes me that every. single. version of Peter Pan never includes Wendy’s pet wolf. All the same, whenever I imagined my own, it was fantastic. Full of wonder and joy and happiness, just like in the story. Only, very unlike the story, I always came home. Here, however, my home was happiness. My parents didn’t fight, my sister didn’t hate me (of course, she didn’t really hate me, but I was the pesky younger sibling that she just couldn’t be bothered with), and no one was ever angry with me. This, I realize, is probably where my anxiety began to stem from - always wanting to please everyone, at any cost. It made for a very self-inflicted traumatic childhood on my end, because I quickly learned to silence a lot of who I was just to satiate what everyone wished of me.

And for a long time, I remained this person. It wasn’t until I was about 10 years old that the depression hit, though we hardly knew that’s what it was at the time. See, I had finally made friends with a group of girls that I could be myself with, and I was happy. But, we were considered weird. Or, at least, they were - they were still more free with themselves than I was, comfortable with making strange noises and doing strange things just because they wanted to. And while I indulged in those moments shared with them, I still kept fairly quiet and reserved when on my own. This led to bullying from my classmates, because of who my friends were. It wasn’t so much aimed at me personally, but at my choice of friends. And these girls meant the world to me - they still do, 2 decades later as our friendship remains as strong as those early days. I couldn’t grasp why someone would make fun of me, tease me, because of something that finally made me happy. There just had to be more that my little preteen brain wasn’t understanding.

There had to be something wrong with me, right?

I promise, this has a point.

My non-diagnosed anxiety (I didn’t even know what anxiety was, back then) only worsened as I began struggling with finding some reason for why these kids were picking on me. None of my friends seemed to care - why did I? Because I was a people-pleaser. It ate away at me to know that someone didn’t like me, regardless of the reason for it. I tried so hard. I let people say what they wanted to about me, I gave people second and third and fourth chances all because I was afraid of what would happen if I stood up for myself. I changed how I acted, how I dressed (a whole other can of worms we will probably never address, haha), how I lived, just to try and fit in with everyone. It was exhausting, and it wore me down quick.

It also didn’t help that by this point, my older sister had hit high school. She was pretty, she was popular, and she was damn good at sports. I’m pretty sure her track record at high school is still intact, and she graduated 16 years ago. This only served to create my inferiority complex.

Why couldn’t I be as great as my sister?

Going back to the family issues - my dad was my everything growing up. He did so much for our family, made sacrifices I never knew how to appreciate until I got older. All I ever wanted was to make him proud of me, to prove to him that everything he did for us wasn’t in vain. I could see that pride in his eyes when he watched my sister excel at sports. Field hockey, basketball, track and field. She had his love in a way I coveted. I played those sports too, while in middle school, but never nearly as well. Never well enough to see that shameless pride gleaming back at me from my father’s eyes. And that killed. Because no matter how I tried, I wasn’t her.

I was more like my mother. Interested in arts (though not art itself, I can’t draw to save my damn life), music, theatre. When I finally made it to high school, I was too damn scared of failure, of being compared to her, to really try anything I had once enjoyed. It distanced me from my father. You would think, then, that this would have brought my mother and me closer; it did not. That chasm carved between us by the lack of her involvement as I grew up was too wide to bridge entirely. I grew to feel isolated in my own family, unwanted and certainly unneeded. What did I possibly bring to the table?

When I turned 16, I told my mom I needed to talk to someone. Depression still wasn’t something anyone really talked about. A taboo in society, frowned heavily upon. Full of labels and judgments I wasn’t able to bear just yet. My mom understood, even if my dad didn’t. He never used to believe in depression. He was one that agreed it was all attention-seeking, an excuse. And here I was, drowning hard and fast in it, afraid to confide in him lest he think less of me as well. So I got good at hiding it. So damn good. Because how do you tell the man you idolize that you’ve started cutting when he’s made the statement of, “if you’re going to start it, you should just finish the job”?

It wasn’t until I was much older that I was able to tell my father much of any of what I suffered through back then. Now, he tries to understand. But he’s getting older, and more ornery, and sometimes that patience wears so thin it could snap in a light breeze. More so now, because I finally stand up for myself. And while he encourages that, he certainly never anticipated I would have to do it against him.

There’s still so much screaming inside these walls. Some of it is mine, now. I hate it just as much, hate how involved with it I’ve become. But I simply cannot shoulder the weight of the world anymore.

Atlas, I am not.

My father and I never used to have such blow-out arguments. I never used to have to scream until my throat burned, my lungs ached, and my chest collapsed. Not with him. Yet I’ll do it a thousand - a million - times over if it means remaining who I’ve become. This version of me may not be perfect, and I’m certainly not happy with her just yet, but it is so much better from who I used to be. Because the girl I once was would have been dead by now. She already very nearly was.

ANYWAY. 

This particular fight started over something incredibly stupid - a statement. A belief I have that doesn’t necessarily align with my father’s. I have no political affiliation. He’s a strong Republican. I made the mistake of voicing a belief that apparently leans more liberal, and he just... lost it. Got super nasty with me, made hurtful comments, refused to hear me out. And I know it’s only because he’s getting older, and like his father before him, losing his temper more often because of it. My mom constantly insists I be the bigger person, that I understand the true reasons behind his behavior and brush it off. “You know he doesn’t mean it. You know he’s in pain, how that makes him lash out.”

Yes, I do know. That doesn’t make it okay.

All my life I’ve been the punching bag for this family. The therapist listening to every member complain about each other. All my life, I’ve tried and given everything to fix it. To somehow fit this family into the mould I had imagined for us. All my life, I have sacrificed more and more of me just to make things right.

When is enough, enough?

I called my boyfriend that night, shaking and crying. Trying to understand how a parent can talk to their child that way, wondering when my family became... well, this. He listened oh so patiently, let me just cry in silence until my body was spent. He will never know just how much I loved him in that moment. Because though Peter Pan never came to steal me away, I know exactly where my Neverland is. And it’s in my boyfriend’s arms.

My father still hasn’t apologized for how he spoke to me, let alone what he said. He’s not the type to. I love him with everything I’ve got, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today without him, but. I am done. I am done suffering for his - or anyone’s - sake. Sometimes, it has to be about me. As hard as that is for me to do.

If you have made it this far - if you have read any of this at all - know that you are worth so much more than you think. It isn’t always obvious, and it certainly isn’t easy, but there is meaning in your existence. I still have yet to find what mine is, but I know it’s there. Somewhere. Yours is too.

If these walls could talk I’m afraid of what they’d say The shouting they would echo The image they’d portray But I’m not afraid to hear it because I don’t know what was said No, I heard it all the first time It still rattles in my head

So give me all the silence All the quiet that you’ve got Enough to end the crying And drown out my own thoughts

[ridethedarktrail]

Being cautiously optimistic that Tumblr has fixed something as I can see posts, scroll back days, and like things. I feel like I need to post a story to mark the occasion. The following is brought to you by too much oldies radio and Don Henley’s “All She Wants to do is Dance”.  (Warning it has had only a light dose of beta. This version won’t go to a03 as it was expanded then passed off to another writer.)

Molotov Cocktails

The smell of the methanol, tar, and other substances used still lingered in the room. It was a particular cocktail mixed up in what passed for a kitchen sink in this war-torn country. A bottle of it worked especially well on the second rate armored vehicles the nation's little dictator bought.

They were almost done there, not much more they could do. They'd helped those who wished to flee to do so and helped others dig in. It would all come down to which side wanted to win more than the other.

Logan watched her wash up at the little bucket of water. She swayed to the staticky music from the radio with the blown speaker, keeping it low as to not grate on his nerves.  Try as she might she wouldn't be able to completely wash away the scent, but he didn't mind.

He loved to watch Marie in her full skirt, flow around the room like one of the spring breezes coming through the window. There was never a regretful bone in his body for keeping her with him.

Twenty years ago he'd escaped Weapon X with his memories intact. Not just those of his past but those of a future life already lived. Given some time and thought he decided that none of them survived the monastery. That this was his one chance to go back in time and fix things.

Never one to waste an opportunity, he went about the business he knew best. Using his pay to make investments against a rainy day and doing what he could to make Xavier's dream a reality, everything short of being an X-Man. His life wasn't destined to be part of that dream, his moral standards weren't pristine enough for a school full of impressionable minds.

He drifted, as he always had, doing the work he liked and keeping an eye out for those who had brought an end to normal life in a different timeline. So when that day came; he made damn sure he was in the right bar on the proper night, to pick up a specific runaway.

Logan had never trusted Magneto to change his ways and he'd hated breaking it to Charles when it happened. Marie's safety was more important than Xavier's friendship with Magneto. With the girl safe and spared the trauma, he left the X-Men to deal with Magneto and any possible political fall out.

He'd taken her on to Alaska and set her up in a good place. It seemed like a logical arrangement at the time, she'd finish school and keep the cottage so he had a place to crash between jobs.  For a year he put his feet on the coffee table, slept on the couch and ate her home-cooked meals, while she worked hard to make up for a lost year of academics.

In the end, he couldn't protect her from everything and a near-death experience finally added the white stripe to her hair. They'd had a good year, a comfortable time to settle into a friendship, but it was time to take her to Xavier's. She chose a second option he hadn't given her and successfully argued to stay with him. Not that she really had to talk him into something he wanted anyway.

One night months later, they were at a little cantina when in walked the local warlord... freedom fighter... whatever he and his thugs were calling themselves that week. Logan was usually the type to mind his own business, yet he could tell from the way the big man was eyeing Marie that that wouldn't be a choice.  She politely declined the offer of an "evening's entertainment". Logan was forced to make her "no, thank you" heard loud and clear. The little band stopped long enough for the bodies to be cleared from the dance floor and for them to leave.

Later in a safe location, hours away, he'd been ready to admit that for the first time in life he was scared. Scared she would leave him now that she knew what he did, what he was capable of. Her silence only added to his dread.

He should have known better. Marie wasn't like that, she understood, saw the world in all of its imperfect shades of gray. Turning on the radio, she'd told him there were few non-negotiables in life. One was the dance he promised her earlier that evening. The second, after they had sex for the first time, was her love for him.

Over the last couple of years as they traveled from job to job he'd learned that indeed her love was non-negotiable and neither was his love for her. Another item not open for discussion was her need to learn. Learning every aspect of every job they had. He knew her drive for knowledge was to empower the helpless, though he was careful to make sure she didn't lose herself in other people's struggles.

He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her as she finished up. Placing a kiss on her shoulder, he waited for the tilt of her head, allowing better access to her neck. She didn't disappoint.

"Morning?" Rogue asked. She wasn't as good with the local language as he was but she found it easy enough to pick up phrases or at least enough words to communicate. He spoke more than several languages fluently and she knew she would never be able to do that. Though to be honest at times playing ignorant foreigner had its advantages.

"Tonight," he answered in English. It was time, there had been too many close calls as of late. He wanted to take her away and remind her that there were better places, better times to be savored. Things left out there for her to experience, time for her to find her balance again.

"Where?" She knew it was time to move on, she could read his restlessness building to a crescendo. A concern for her safety that kept him vigilant.

"Someplace hot and sunny," he whispered with a kissed behind her ear. She hated the heat and humidity, he must have a good reason for that choice. "Want to watch you try to beat the heat."

Her idea of beating the heat involved little to no clothing. She huffed at his ulterior motive. "Hmm... what if I want it so cold and snowy that there's no reason to get out of bed." She giggled as his hands moved further down to her hips.

"Possibility," he breathed into her neck, sending a thrill down her spine. Goosebumps broke out on her skin despite the warm spring air that came into the room.

This was it, they'd wait for one of the nightly battles to break out and when the forces concentrated their efforts, they'd leave. She wasn't sorry to put this one behind them. Her life with Logan was exciting but she felt there was something missing. It was important that she make a change before she became jaded like some of the women that ran in these circles. The hardened women that had done this type of work for far too long. She needed to make that change before the dance became negotiable.

Rogue took his hand and moved from the sink to the cleared area of the room that served as the living quarters. "Dance with me."

"Always, Darlin'," he responded taking her in his arms. What little they had was packed and they'd slip away after making sure the last of the refugees were flown out. The rumbling in the distance was growing louder; there would be a final spin then a handful of tense minutes before time was up.

Resting her head on his shoulder, she let him slowly twirl her around the room even though the soft music could no longer be heard over the battle. "Someplace like Alaska," she said firmly.

"Make an honest woman out of ya'?" he asked. He'd thought of getting a place like they had but knew it would be useless if she wasn't ready to settle down and give this life up.

"Mmm.." She pulled back to look at him. He'd given her as close to a bended knee as he ever would and she wanted to gauge his reaction to the next part. "Picket fence ain't necessary but a few kids would be nice."

Logan's step faltered and she was afraid she'd pushed too far. That even though she was ready he wasn't. Not that she was requiring him to give up his work, but a family and this job were a different balance. He was where she found her equilibrium, he always would be but this was no way to bring up a child, not with both of them doing it. Maybe she could build a place, a home he would always want to be in so he didn't lose himself in the work.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she missed the subtle play of emotions on his face. He'd hoped she would eventually want more with him than what he'd offered until now. He would give it up for her, to start a new life with her. It wouldn't take much to find somewhere they both agreed on.

Lacking words, he captured her lips to convey his acceptance of her idea. Her mouth opened readily and he took his time kissing her. They should be going but he couldn't pull himself away from her. Especially now that the smell of her arousal was taking over. The little noises she made as he kissed her drove him on, putting off the inevitable.

Rogue deepened the kiss, desperate to show him how much he meant to her. It reminded her of the first time he'd made love to her after the incident at the cantina. Yet she knew they didn't have the time for the slow, measured way he'd taken her that night.

Tonight would be quick.  A reaffirming as they left one life behind and started a new one together.

She reached down to unfasten his pants and a stray thought crossed his mind that he should protest. They were running short on time, but he couldn't deny her this. Couldn't find the effort to care about anything but her at the moment.

He swung her around to the wall, a fist wrapped in her hair, her biting his bottom lip in response. Lifting her, he supported her against the wall. A growl welled up in his chest as a brief struggle ensued to move her skirt and panties out of the way. At last, he thrust into her and she hissed, letting her head fall back.

Cradling her, he set a hard, fast pace as she dug her fingernails into him through his shirt. She used the force they were exerting on the wall to push against him and achieve the friction she wanted. It wasn't quite enough and she knew by the way his growl was building and the pressure of his teeth on her neck that he might finish before her.

She dropped her hand down between them, his growl rose but he allowed her to. The added pressure of her fingers against her clit was all she needed. Her leg slipped from his hip as the first wave of her orgasm hit.

He pounded into her as she moaned his name. Stilling as he came, he let her convulsions pull him deeper. He held her in place with a bite on her neck that would leave a mark. This was a non-negotiable item because he didn't think he could go on in any life without her.

Rogue tried to rein in her ragged breathing and racing heart. A tremor ran through her when he licked the bite mark on her neck to soothe it. Pulling him in for a kiss, she lowered her feet to the floor. There were limits and if they didn't bug out soon, they would be here doing this all night.

He helped her straighten her clothes before tucking himself back in. Logan's mind was already racing ahead. There was a piece of property in Canada he hadn't been to in nearly a decade. Maybe it was time they visited it and saw about putting in a home. They also might need to add a few new non-negotiables to their list; a real kitchen sink and only cocktails they could consume.

[5hinexo-blog]

Trouble

genre: alternate universe (fluff, some angst)

pairing: Reader x Chanyeol

wordcount: 11.5 k

warnings: none

summary: You're stuck alone in Florence during summer holiday. Enzo (the friendly neighbor) and 3 EXO members are forcing (?) themselves into your life. Also, there’s the pretty boy who eventually falls for you, but of course there are things (people?) that stand in your way. What could happen next? Can you make this summer fall out of the ordinary or are you just going to pity yourself with a Nutella jar and a good Netflix show?

A/N: So... i wrote this back in September last year. Back then, people didn’t really give me feedback on it so i just stopped writing the story. It was originally a series but now i just put everything in one huge one shot, because i didn’t want to make several posts for it. If this time people actually enjoy reading this fic, i will continue it :D

my masterlist

It was raining hard. Mid-summer season had blessed you with a short storm, thunder and lightning surrounding your senses. You sighed as you stepped out of the university into the hot, humid wheather, unhappy about the day you had. A day that wasn't even over yet. You put your backpack over your head and started walking toward your apartment.

Why were you in school when in was the summer holiday? You signed up for a summer course just because you wanted to have something to do during holiday season. All your friends were in their home towns so you decided to stop with the mourning and do something about it. Your family wasn't really a healthy one and spending 2 months with them didn't sound that pleasant at all. So you were stuck here, in a rainy Florence in the middle of the summer. With nothing to do but a stupid course you already regretted signing into. One that was somewhat hard and it wasn't at all what you expected from a music summer course.

You didn't have that much to walk, so 15 minutes passed and you were now searching for your keys. Your wet long hair kept getting stuck to your face so angrily you threw your backpack down and tried to pull a ponytail out of the mess that your hair was now. When you bend down to keep the search going, your neighbor Enzo yelled, coming from the car he just parked 'Y/N I have keys, stop struggling!'

You smiled, he knew you well enough. Or maybe he just stood there, in his car, laughing at you for like 5 minutes. Either one were equally valid. He was a good friend, but nothing happened between you because you weren't his type. His gender type. He was a proud 23 y/o homosexual Italian searching for a boyfriend.

'Always a damsel in destress. Dear, you need to step out of your books and go out there to find your prince.'

'Nah, I'm fine with a Harry Potter novel and a huge bowl of Nutella in my lap. I don't need a boyfriend, less likely a prince.'

'You may say so, but I know you better.' He winked at you as you started to walk up the stairs. 'That's why I come with good news. Go dry yourself up, you'll get wet when you hear me out. Come visit me after.' He entered his apartment leaving you there.

This man and his happy spirit. You were so lucky to have a neighbor like him. So far from home, you were lonely at the beginning but he forcely stepped into your introverted space and that's how you became friends. He was a loud extrovert, but he always there for you. From sugar emergencies to study buddy when you were ill. Even though he was just watching movies while you were studying, you appreciated it. He was there for you, and so were you for him. But you weren't necessarily best friends, more like really friendly neighbors both away from home.

You entered your plain apartment, dried yourself and you were now ready for some gossip. You knocked on his door, and his brunette head came out from a side of the door, trying to hide his body. 'Wait a second, I'm naked.' Of course he was. You stood there laughing for 2 minutes until he decided to open up.

Both of you went into his kitchen, and sat down as he lighted up a cigarette.

'So listen to this. You know Sung Min, my best friend from college. His childhood friend is coming here for fun and entertainmen and he's also bringing some of his friends with him. Apparently they are all some huge stars back in Korea. He said there's like 8 or 9 of them in the group.' He started laughing. 'No no you won't have that many options, only 3 of them are coming here.'

'Hmmm, interesting.' You said whispering,  more to yourself. 'But how am I involved in any of this?'

'My friend said that they wanted to taste the real Italy so they decided to stay somewhere humble in the city not at some fancy hotel. So of course I offered, since I have a spare room. There's one of them going to live right here, under your nose! Here's your chance, I'm telling you. This is exactly what you need.' He said, strongly pointing his finger in the table to make his statement more important. You were looking at him with your eyes wide opened.

'What are you talking about? I don't even know them and I can already hear you planing my wedding in your head ! Stop' you shook your head in disagreement. Hell no. You were fine with your chill life. Even though it was way too chill without your friends around.

'Okay but listen to this now. They're coming here tonight! So I said I'll take them out to eat some real Italian food and then we'll go clubbing.' You were done with his shit. 'I know I know you don't like clubbing . That's why I told them we are going to eat first. There's when you come in.' He said looking at you with his blue eyes.

'I'm leaving.' You said getting up. 'I have a new Netflix series to catch on so if you need me for any of your normal desires you know where to find me.'

'Be ready at 7. And wear something cute!' He said shouting as you shut his door.

Did he really think you'd say yes? You already had a shitty day, you didn't need his drama. It was merely 3pm but it was still raining so the sky was darker than usual. After you ate the lasagna leftovers from your order of last night, you started to think what tv series to watch. When you finished your mental debate between '13 reasons why' and 'famous in love', you said out loud '13 reasons why it is'.

You decided to take your laptop on the balcony to hear the rain as background music, leaving the door wide opened for some fresh air to enter the living room. You sat in the rocking chair with your laptop on the little table next to it and started your marathon.

A loud knocking woke you up. Apparently you had fallen asleep there, rocking your chair. You let own a yawn and went to open the door. Lorenzo's talking woke you up for good. 'Why aren't you ready?? I have a good looking young man downstairs waiting for you!' Was it 7 already? Ah, is not like you planned on going anyway.

'I'm not coming.'

'Why not? Come on, it'll be fun.'

'I just-'

He cut you off, 'No more. You owe me one.' He said shaking his finger in front of you.

Your face fell and your mouth opened so wide it almost touched the ground. 'What?'

'You owe me one for when I got you out of that date with the ugly dude. I pretended to be your boyfriend. You accidentally saw me, came to me in the middle of the street and shouted <no it's not what it looks like>. I played your game and you'll play mine. Wear the most shocking dress you have baby, because we're also going clubbing tonight.' He winked at your frozen expression. 'We'll be in the living room, you don't have to knock.' He said and left.

After you washed the shook away from your face, you put on a slight make-up. It wasn't exactly your thing to wear make-up but you did owe him one. The boy he mentioned was a nerd, just like you. He wasn't ugly, not for you at least. The date was going fine until he started talking about his ex, clearly he wasn't over her yet. You tried your hardest to help and to pay attention but he just kept going. You knew the entire relationship history as he talked non-stop for an entire hour. When you saw Enzo on the street you acted instantly, just wanted out of your date. You didn't keep in touch with the dude, of course. You hoped he was over his ex-lover and forgot about you as well.

You tried on your little black dress, the resistance piece from your wardrobe. You analyzed yourself in the mirror and you were content with yourself. Your long hair was down on your shoulders as the dress you wore had an empty back. You turned around a bit and you saw all your curves were accentuated. It wasn't indecent, only half of your back was left for seen. The dress covered just enough of your legs, to let the red stilettos attract all the attention. You picked up your bag from the bed and locked the door ready to give your best. The game was on.

You opened his door and went inside. You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and you opened the other door to the living room. There he was, the Asian guy. He was really tall, even taller than Enzo. Your neighbor came fast to give you a short hug and he then introduced you to this man who was staring at you from head to feet.

'Y/N, Chanyeol. Chanyeol, Y/N' he said, waiting for you to shake hands. Instead, Chanyeol got up and kissed the back of your hand, looking at you with sharp eyes.

'Pleasure to meet you, Y/N' he said, staring straight into your eyes.

'Well now, it's time to go. Didn't you say your other friends are waiting for us in the old center?' Enzo said, his energetic side showing up as he speed talked to Chanyeol.

'They said something about an old bridge?' He asked, looking at both of you being confused about the location.

'I know the area but we should still call a cab though. It's quite far away, so we can't walk there.' You said, and started to search for your phone to call in a taxi.

Enzo was sitting in the front seat of the cab, leaving you and Chanyeol to stay behind. You didn't really get to talk to him yet, but hell, how much you wanted to. There was something different about him. You could see he was famous from his posture. Even in this small cab he was staying with his back straight, and had an dominant vibe coming out of his facial expressions. He was looking at the buildings you surpassed, clearly the Florence flavour was catching his eye. In the meantime, you were admiring him. His curly dark brown hair contrasted hard with his white t-shirt, and the dark blue jeans were followed down by a pair of white converse. He didn't strike as a insanely rich idol man, but his Rolex gave him away. That thing alone was more expensive than your rent, food and money for 3 months.

You opened your mouth to talk to Chanyeol but Enzo's words interrupted you before you even got the chance to ask anything. He said that you had arrived at your destination. The three of you started walking towards Sung Min, Enzo's best friends and 2 other men, who were waving at Chanyeol from the other side of the road. As you crossed the street you were welcomed by a warm 'hello' from Sung Min and  from the strangers.

'Hey, Sehun, what's with that face again? What's up?'

So the tall guy with a sad expression was Sehun. He didn't seem that happy to be here.

'You were 30 minutes late and I'm starving, can we just go?' He then saw you standing behind Enzo and looked at you like Chanyeol did when you met him. 'Ah sorry, where are my manners. I'm Oh Sehun, and this is Kim Jongin' He said, introducing his friend as well. You shook hands with both of them.

'Sorry we were late' I didn't want to come. 'It was my fault, I wasn't ready.'

'It's okay' Jongin said speaking for his friend. 'Excuse Sehun, he has a thing for food.' You smiled at him.

Sung Min was talking to Enzo about the place you were going to eat at, discussing-fighting about which route to take.

'I know a short line, i can walk us over there in not time.' You said with confidence. All those days you spent wandering the streets in your first year of uni were paying you pack now.

'Sure, just go up front and we'll all follow you.' Enzo showed you his famous smirk.

'Hahaha' You said faking your laughter, starting walking in the right direction. Sehun and Chanyeol came next to you and the rest of the boys stayed behind as all of you didn't fit in the small sidewalk. You thought about some conversation starters that weren't cringe worthy, but Chanyeol saved you before your social awkwardness appeared.

'I really love Florence from what i've seen by now. It's all really fascinating. Are you from here?'

'No actually I'm from Bari.' He had no idea where that was. 'It's in the South of Italy, right next to the Adriatic Sea'.

'Ah, how did you end up here then?'

'I've been in love with this city ever since i was little and i wanted to leave my hometown'

'I can understand why, it's magical here. It makes me feel like i'm in a movie or something'

Sehun's stomach growl made you turn to your left to look at him. You felt so bad you were late, the poor guy was starving.

'We're almost there' You said, trying to stop looking at his red cheeks. He was tall and beautiful. Actually, he looked like a model. He was wearing a black T-Shirt with a V neck, a black pair of ripped jeans and black shoes. He was dressed all black, including his hair colour.

Sehun spoke now, 'I'm sorry.' He was talking about his stomach. 'Tell us more about the city until we get there. I'm interested to learn more about it. What places we should visit to feel like we're residents here?'

'Maybe i can be your guide sometimes this week, i'll hapily be the one who shows you around. There are many places you should visit, but first you should still start with the main attractions like Galleria Uffizi, Santa Maria Novella, the Medici Palace. You don't want to miss those.'

He looked at you with a puzzled phase, 'I think it's better if you just help us out. I'm already feeling a little bit lost' He let out a small laugh, 'I really don't want to leave anything unseen before we leave and i'm sure Jongin feels the same.'

'So do i!' Chanyeol entered the conversation again.

'We're here' You said, happy that Sehun would get to eat soon.

All of you stopped to wait for the other 3 boys, as they were a little behind you. Enzo came and entered first, as you had a reservation.

You sat in the private area, away from the crowd that usually frequented this place. Enzo was offering advice to the foreign visitors about what food they should order, his culinary taste was indeed amazing. The restaurant was big, and everything was made out of wood. The lights were dimmed to create a romantic atmosphere. Your table was rectangular and it had 3 seats on each of the longer sides, leaving the shorter ends unoccupied. You, Enzo and Sung Min were on one side, the other 3 boys oppositely to each of you.

'So Y/N, what are you planning to eat?' Chanyeol said, looking at you from across the table.

'I think i'll go with tagliatelle bolognese, i really love ragu'

'Hmm' he hummed, still looking at the menu undecided.

When the waitress came to pick up the order, all of you ordered something different. Chanyeol was still looking at the menu and his turn came. He closed it angrily saying 'I'll just have what Y/N is having.'

Okay, that was awkward.

'So, where do you want to go after?' You asked Enzo and Sung Min.

'We should try that rooftop party from The Bronze, I heard it's going to be sick' Sung Min said, and Enzo nodded aggressively.

'That's the place.' Enzo was surely looking for action tonight.

'So, Enzo, where did you learn so much about the Italian culinary culture? You surely knew what you were talking about earlier.' Jonging said, looking at Enzo with glowing eyes.

'Erm' Enzo was getting a little bit shy and tried to push the feeling away by running his fingers through his hair. ' I was the main chef on a 6 month cruise. I mean, I started as helping assistant but they saw my potential and I was promoted in like 2 months as the chef.'

'Nice man, congrats. It's not something little for you to actually get to be a chef. Our friend from back home, Kyungsoo, is trying his hardest for quite some time now but he never got the chance to go this big' Jongin said looking at Enzo with carefully. Like he was searching for something in his eyes.

'Yeah, he started off by cooking for us. He used to cook so bad, not even God knows what he did put in there' Sehun laughed and continued, 'But we all ate it so he won't give up.'

'What a kind gesture.' You said.

The boys drinks arrived. All of them ordered wine, only you and Chanyeol had water standing in front of you.

'You don't drink?' He said, looking at you with amusement in his eyes.

'Not usually. You?'

'Me neither.' He smiled at you, little wrinkles appearing on his face as he did a weird thing with his nose.

After a little more chatting, your food had arrived. It all looked incredible and it's smell was like heaven to your nose. Hmmmm... Italian food was your favourite. You wouldn't trade it for anything. You started eating in silence, enjoying the dinner.

The summer breeze hit you hard in the face as you stood at the edge of the rooftop looking at the beautiful city in front of you. You had a non-alcoholic cocktail in your hand and a happy Sehun next to you, who was trying to convince you to taste his cocktail. He just had his first Aperol Spritz and was completely over his head by how good it was.

'Come on Y/N, just try it'

'I've told you like 100 times, I don't like alcohol. And anyway, I've tried it before' You didn't like alcohol anymore, you remembered your crazy sophomore year, you definitely tasted every alcohol off the market.

'Then let's dance for a while?' he tried to flirt with you again. He did it ever since you arrived at the party. How many drinks had he had?

'This dance is mine' Chanyeol said, answering Sehun's invitation as he put his hands on your hips from behind you and pulled you away from Sehun into the dance floor.

'Why do you have to be so possessive? I'm not an object you know.' You tried to tell him but the music was louder now that you were on the dance floor, so your words were left unheard. The DJ was playing your song though, so you didn't mind dancing. You sang along with Alan Walker's remix of Issues by Julia Michaels moving your hips to the beat.

Chanyeol was into the song as well, but his hands weren't touching you anymore. You craved his touch for an unknown reason, so you tried to get closer to him. He had been showing you a mysterious side ever since you left the restaurant, and he mostly talked to you with monosyllabic words. You had no idea why you wanted him to touch you right now, maybe it was the song?

Coldplay's 'Hymn for the weekend' was now playing. You tried to tell Chanyeol that it was your favourite band, but he didn't hear you. He saw you struggling to be heard so he suddenly pulled you inbetween his arms, to his torso. Now you were being pressed into his well worked body, his hands were on your low back, where the material still covered your skin. You noticed he knew the lyrics as well, so you got the courage to lean closer to his ear and you said loudly 'this is my favourite band'. He responded with 'mine too' and smiled at you in return.

You just stood there singing the lyrics to each other with a wide smile on both of your faces, but there was something bugging you deep inside. His hands were still on your back, your bodies were leaning into each other with the music rhythm falling through your veins and for everything to get worse, you felt his eyes undressing you.

Abort mission, trouble is about to appear. This isn’t a game anymore.

'Hey, do you want to go somewhere else for a chat?' Chanyeol told you when the DJ played a different song in the boxes.

'Yeah' you nodded, 'Follow me' you took his hand in yours and guided him to the private balcony of the club.

Luckly, you knew this club well as you used to frequent it in your early crazy days. You used to come here with your friends to have fun, but now everything was different.

You felt so good holding his hand,  it was sending shocks through your body and you felt electrocuted by his touch. Something about him was so magnetic, you felt like you wanted to get to know him better. Or maybe you just wanted him to touch you a little bit more.

He looked amazed at the city as you faced an incredible view now that you were in the opposite side of the building than you were before. The old buildings were illuminated by the street lights, making the view look like it was cut out of an old painting. It was more silent here, but you could still hear the loud music in the far background. The balcony was big, with small lights on the ground and many colourful chairs around. Little unlit candles sat on the edge of the balcony, waiting for someone to light them up for a romantic atmosphere. The rain stopped a long time ago so you were now left with a starry night sky. You looked up at the full moon, enjoying the summer breeze that hit your back, it made you shiver a little as your back was mostly naked.

The place was empty, it was only you and Chanyeol. The silence felt so comfortable you didn't really want to break it, and apparently neither did him. Still holding your hand, he led you to the farest chairs that were next to the edge of the balcony. He really was in love with Florence, even though he saw just a little of it. You smiled as you enjoyed the fact that he felt good in your most beloved environment.

He let go of your hand as he pulled the chairs closer to the edge, so that you could look better at the city. Both of you sat down, waiting for the other one to say something. You turned to your left to look at him. He was so beautiful and his brown eyes were shining deeply as the lights made them seem brighter. He felt your gaze and turned around as well, a strand of hair getting in his sight as he moved so quickly. Before you knew it, your hand went straight to his face to get the rebel hair out of his eye. You felt your cheeks turn to red because he was looking at you with wide eyes and a smirk on his face.

'You really enjoy touching me, don't you?' He said his smile getting bigger with each word he said. 'First it was the dancing, then you took me by the hand and now this' he said with an evil smirk on his face. Wasn't he the one who started this? You started to blush again.

'Maybe I do' you finally said, courage boiling now in your veins. This was just a game. You just had to go through tonight.

'What if I did this?' He said, placing his hand on your cheek, and then moving it on the back of your neck. 'Do you enjoy my hands on you as much as you like being the one touching me?' He then ran his fingertips on your naked back and you felt your muscles tense under his touch. All of a sudden you felt his other hand on your hip and you opened your eyes. When did you close your eyes? You couldn't really process his moves as he turned you around so that you could face him. Your legs were touching his, and his face was in front of yours. He came closer like a predator looking at his little lamb as he licked his lips. His eyes were darker now, as if another person had his hands all over you, not the Chanyeol you had dinner with earlier tonight. He was so close you could feel his deep breath on your lips. Only some centimeters were pulling you apart.

He was giving you a choice, you saw it in his eyes. You could either chose to kiss him and enter this new world, his world, letting yourself be free. Or you could stop now and leave, that way tomorrow would be the same as the day after it, and so on. You were tired of being so responsible, but did you really want to change?

You put your hands around his neck, forcing him to turn around as well and his legs were now on each side of yours. Your thoughts were a mess but deep down you knew the answer. It's not like someone will ever know, right? This could be your dirty little secret.

You wanted to kiss the hell out of this stranger, and so you did.

You felt his lips on yours softly at first, but then you let him devour you as you opened your mouth and let him discover you. His hands were all over your body, but he stayed away from any indecent parts. He was well mannered.

You were still kissing when a loud voice started shouting your name. You ignored it, totally dedicated to what you were currently doing. You couldn't care about anything else. Chanyeol though, stopped and looked in the direction of the voice. You moved your angered eyes as you saw the person was standing there.

It was Sehun.

He was drunk and had his right arm around a brunette girl, most likely drunk as well from the way she was staying on her high heels, supporting herself on his body.

'Hey! Come here!' Chanyeol yelled at them while waving, getting up to bring two more chairs next to yours.

What was he even doing here, how could he knew about this place? You looked harder and you recognized who the brunette girl was. Her name was Sara and she was from your university, you saw her earlier today at the music course. Fucking Sara ruined the only good thing that happened to you in weeks.

'Hey!' You finally said, getting up. You couldn't stay down because you were way too angry now.

'Y/N!' She said with excitement coming to hug you, something you didn't want. Let's just say, you didn't really like her and the feeling was mutual. At least when she was sober.

'Hey Sara.' You said with a flat voice, looking at the boys over her shoulder.

'I saw you coming here with a stranger and i was getting worried' She said and amazed you saw honesty in her drunken eyes.

'Erm, thanks but i'm fine'

'Sara, this is Chanyeol. Chanyeol, this is Sara' You made the introductions as Sehun seemed to be out of it staring blankly at the ground.

'Hey Sehun, are you alright?' You asked gently touching his shoulder.

'Yeah, i just have to sit down i can feel the Earth spinning'

'Wait here, i'll bring you some water ' You made him sit down on the chair closest to him. Chanyeol was looking at you but didn't say anything as you left the balcony and entered the hallway.

When you came back, Sara was gone. Hm, interesting. Sehun and Chanyeol were chatting about something in a different language you didn't understand. You totally forgot English wasn't their first language, as they were extremely fluent in it.

'Here, are you better?' He took a long sip of cold water, emptying half of the bottle in one sitting. He wasn't as pale as he were when you left .

'Yes, thank you. I'm sorry we interrupted you' he said moving his sight from you to Chanyeol and back. 'I met Sara and we danced for a while, but then she said something i didn't hear because of the music. The next minute we were here and i noticed you first Y/N.'

You sighed 'It's okay, Sehun'.

'So are guys... a think now?'

Chanyeol looked at you. You were the one supposed to answer? You waited for him to do it but he didn't and now an awkward silence fell over the three of you.

'Well this is awkward, I'll just leave. Sorry' Sehun stood up, turning his back to you and started to walk. He stopped and turned around.

'Erm, not to ruin this big time again but I have no idea how to get back'

You looked at Chanyeol and you both said at the same time 'I'll come with you'

Sehun looked at you confused and waited.

'Ah right' you said finally unfreezing. And started walking, Chanyeol following you from behind. He placed his hand on your lower back and you felt your body detense. You were good.

You were at the bar with another non-alcoholic cocktail in your hand. You were chatting with Chanyeol, who kept you company as your legs hurt too bad for dancing or even standing on your own feet. It was merely 2 or 3 am at the moment and people were still dancing on the dance floor which was in the far direction of your seats.

Sehun was talking to his old friend, Sung Min at the edge of the roof. As the night passed, you learned a few things about the boys. Sehun used to live next door to Sung Min back in Seoul, South Korea, but because of unfortunate choices Sung Min ended up moving to Italy with his family during his teenage years. Ever since, they kept in touch and remained really closed friends. They basically grew up together, and they decided to fight for their friendship. You admired them a lot. Usually Sung Min visited Sehun as he also missed the place he used to call home, his country had a special place in his heart and he really wanted to visit Seoul as often as he could.

Jongin was dancing with Enzo in the crowded area. That boy's moves were no joke. He was a specialist in ballet, jazz, and so many other types of dancing, you already forgot which. Right now, he looked like music flood his veins and danced like there was no tomorrow, regardless the song played by the Dj. It even looked like he knew the entire playlist, or so you thought, as you watched him hypnotized earlier tonight. You had a clear view of the 2 boys from where you were standing and you could see they were really into each other. Their moves were synchronized and you saw they even looked a bit like each other. Brown hair, bronzed skin, muscles, height, they were all the same, only the color of their eyes were different.

'You can't be serious!' You shouted at Chanyeol's statement.

'Yes I am!' He winked at you playfully. 'I hate memes!'

Your eyes popped wide opened again 'But-'

'All of them'

'Dude, you might have missed the best ones' You were getting serious, and you decided to pull your phone from the small bag you had with you and introduce this young man to some good memes.

'Now, here. I have one folder full of memes' you said with your phone in your hand touching the screen, and he came closer to you to look at it. Your shoulders were now touching, but you didn't have time to think about it as you had a urgent mission to accomplish. 'I have to find at least one that you like.' You said, with the bottom of your eye analyzing his expressions, you had to find out if he was smiling at any of them.

You started to move your finger again on the touchscreen trying your hardest to find the funniest one, and suddenly you froze. You accidentaly found one with a boy in the background and some mathematical proportions in front of him. The boy was staring at them with a horrified expression. More horrified than the boy in the picture, you looked at Chanyeol and than back at the meme, with your hands shaking.

'Wha- What is this? Is this me?' He said laughing out loud, taking the phone from your hand and zooming in. You haven't seen this man laughing so hard since you met him and it was a pleasant sound to hear. Except the fact that he was laughing at you. Chanyeol couldn't stop laughing and the entire scene was extremely addictive to watch.

'I can't believe you have a meme of me in your phone' he was laughing so hard his shoulders were shaking and he was hitting the bar with his palm.

You couldn't help but laugh as well after the shock disappeared. Below the picture it said 'You may not use your calculator on the reading proportion'. Your friend sent it to you when she felt attacked after the math exam she had. You had over 500 memes on your phone, what were the changes to meet one of them in real life?

You were both still laughing when Enzo appeared next to you and Jongin next to Chanyeol.

'What's happening? Are you having some sort of attack or?' Jongin asked lookin at you with disapproval, and Chanyeol just handed him your phone.

'She has a meme of me. I think I'll be forever haunted by my facial expressions that circulate the internet.' He stopped laughing, leaving a wide smile on his face instead.

'You can feel ashamed as much as you desire, I just met a living meme. It's like a dream come true. AND you laughed at one meme so now your statement is invalid' you were content, at least you got him to laugh at your meme.

Enzo looked at you with a weird face, he didn't understand your love for memes nor did he laugh at them. He turned at the bartender and asked for a drink, also ordering one for Jongin. He went over Chanyeol's side to give Jongin his drink and they looked at each other. You felt like you and Chanyeol were third wheeling.

'If you don't mind, I think I'll head home now. It's getting pretty late and I have an early course to attend tomorrow.' The energy you had evaporated and now, not only your legs felt tired.

'I'll come with you, it's too late to go alone. Besides, Enzo gave me a spare key' Chanyeol looked at Enzo for approval, and Enzo nodded at him.

'Sure. I explained everything you need to know, feel free to come and go whenever you want.' He continued, moving his eye sight at Jongin 'I want you guys to feel like home while you're here.'

'Well erm, I'll just go to say bye to Sehun and Sung Min' Chanyeol was getting awkward as well, 'I'll meet you at the entrance in like 5 minutes?' He shook hands with the boys waiting for your response.

'Sure, say bye from me as well and tell them I'm sorry I had to leave so soon' you couldn't find yourself walking all the way over there.

You just said goodbye to Chanyeol, who followed you until you were at your front door. You were now laying in your bed ready to get some sleep. You tossed and turned for half of hour, but your brain just wouldn't shut down. You kept thinking about Chanyeol. He was a really nice guy. Mysterious, but nice and well mannered.

You pulled your phone from under the pillow and started typing his name in the search bar. After you wrote 'chanyeol' your fingers stopped before pressing 'enter'. Did you really want to get to know him in this nasty way? Even so, the information may not even be real, so why bother? He was such a fascinating presence you wanted to know the real him. Quickly you blocked your phone and put it back at his place. You decided to not read anything about him online. You didn't want to get biased by his famous side or fandom stuff.

Anyway, you exchanged phone numbers as you promised you'd take him on a tour the next day after you finished the course. It'll be a perfect opportunity to accomplish your task. It was a simple task, you just wanted to talk to him and find out who he really was. It had to be simple, right?

The next morning you woke up late and you only had 15 minutes to get to Uni before the course started. It was something past 9am, and you were extremely tired, your legs still hurt from all the dancing you did last night. You quickly washed yourself up, hurried to put on some jeans and a plain black v-neck t-shirt, and then rushed over the closet again to get the black converse on your feet. You called in a cab in the middle of this mess and ran down the stairs like it was the end of the world coming after you, but a small sigh in relief left your mouth when you stepped in the cab. You'll be there in time.

Your phone started to vibrate like crazy so you searched for it in your backpack. Chanyeol's named popped up as he was the one texting you, several messages lit up the screen when you unblocked your phone. You smiled, remembering how it felt to have his lips on yours and his hands on your body. No, you shook your head, you're not going to catch any type of feelings. You just want to get to know him.

[09:52] Chanyeol 'Did someone die?' [09:53] Chanyeol 'You woke me up making all that noise in the staircase' [09:53] Chanyeol 'So thank you, next time try not to swear so loud and angry, your voice was echoed and you sounded like a monster' [09:54] Chanyeol 'Here's a good song to lighten up your day' [09:54] Chanyeol Coldplay - you're a sky full of stars [09:54] Chanyeol You're welcome.

You couldn't help but smile. You loved that song. You didn't really want to interpretate too much into things but was that some sort of 'remember about last night?' And now you new the lyrics would haunt your mind for the rest of the day. It was a really bright song, and you decided to search for your earphones to listen to it until you got to class.

[09:55] Y/N 'Thankyou, but I already know the song 🤣'

You wrote cheeky, waiting for his response. You wanted to challenge him.

[09:55] Chanyeol 'I assumed you knew it but you can still enjoy it 😉'

Haha, nice one.

[09:55] Y/N 'Thanks again, sorry I woke you up'

[09:56] Chanyeol 'No problem. Don't forget about the tour you owe me, consider it your redemption'

[09:57] Y/N 'Noted ☺️'

You blocked your phone, smiling at the thought of Chanyeol, and put it in your back pocket so you can continue to listen to the song. You looked outside the window just to notice that you arrived at your destination. Quickly paying the taxi driver, you opened the door and ran towards the imposing building. You didn't have to worry about bumping into other people as you were the only person in the hallway, it was summer holiday after all and everyone who came for the course was already in since it was about to start.

You saw the door to the amphitheater opened, and you entered the room. Slowly and silently you approached your usual sitting place in class, in the back of the huge classroom. After you pulled your notes out of the backpack you eyed that someone sitting in the front row was waving in your direction. Focusing, you looked at the person and you saw.

It was fucking Sara.

Since when did she care enough to actually pay attention to your existence? You waved back weirdly, and you saw her making some sort of hand signs, you and her and something about eating? What? You shook your head dissing her and started to write down the date, leaving behind the weird sign conversation she had with you. The course is about to start and you wanted to pay attention, maybe, just maybe, you'd get Chanyeol off your mind for a couple of hours.

When the course ended, you exited the building, excitement spreading through you. Today was better. It was sunny and hot, and you couldn't wait to see Chanyeol. The tiredness you felt this morning was gone and you were ready to enjoy a good day with him. You closed your eyes for a brief moment enjoying the sun and the heat, taking a deep breath in. Opening your backpack you looked for your phone to text Chanyeol. Smiling with your phone in your hand you started walking home when suddenly someone put their arm around your neck, walking right next to you.

'So, are you ready to get something to eat and talk about last night?' Sara said. It was fucking Sara.

You looked at her with a weird expression.

'What?'

'I told you this morning we should go and have lunch together, I thought you agreed' She said with a mischievous look in her eyes. You stopped walking, forcing her to stop as well.

'No, I didn't agree. I can't go, I already have plans today'

'You have plans with Chanyeol? What's going on between you two?' She said, with an amused phase. She intruded you now and you were getting pissed off.

'That's really none of your business, sorry to offend' you said, your defense mechanisms finally showing up. 'Now excuse me, I have to go' you said making a step but she blocked your way, moving in front of you.

'You didn't offend me sweetheart, but I wonder what his fans would think of you. He's really famous, you know.' So that's where she was going. Maybe that's why she was with Sehun last night, because she recognized him. What a bitch.

'Did you tell someone about last night?' You were getting frightened of her at the moment, she was a really mean person and you were scared of what she'd do with the information she had. Who knew what drunk Sehun confessed to her. You wanted all of them to have a great time here, not to be surrounded by fans that watch their every step.

'No I didn't. Yet. If you promise to tell me everything, I'll keep it to myself ' she said winking at you. 'I'll see you later then, considering the fact that you have plans.' She said walking backwards toward a group of girls that were waiting in front of the building. 'I really am a considerate person. That and I'm your new bff until that Kara girl comes in town. Call me' she said, blowing a kiss in the air in your direction. Ew.

You just stood here watching her leave, frozen in that spot for a few more minutes. You wondered what did you do to deserve this freaking drama, you hated unnecessary conflict with all your heart.

You wanted Chanyeol, but you also wanted to keep him safe and right now, you couldn't really do both. What were you supposed to do now? Walking home you kept thinking how to get rid of Sara's presence in your life, she was extremely unnecessary and only brought drama along.

A beautiful day was ahead of you and you wouldn't let Sara ruin it for you. She wasn't even here, right? How is she supposed to trust you'd tell her everything about Chanyeol? She thought you knew him more than you actually did? So many unanswered question were going though your mind. To stop them all, you pulled your phone and started typing a text message.

[14:35] Y/N 'Hey, I just left school. Are you still up for a walk?'

He answered faster than expected, your phone vibrated in your hand.

[14:36] Chanyeol 'Of course, come over and we'll go from here'

You smiled. Today is going to be great.

You just got home and you were currently in the middle of styling your hair. The perfect outfit waited perfectly ironed on your bed to make you look flawless for your date. Wait. It wasn't a date. You didn't say anything about it being a date. And neither did him. You hit your forehead with your palm.

'Fuck, I bet the other guys will be coming with us as well' you said out loud in frustration.

Well, you did promise them all a tour not just to Chanyeol. Now you felt sorry you didn't bring it up again last night. Well, I guess you had to re-think the tour now because you couldn't really take all of them to see the most romantic places around. It would be more than just awkward.

You finished your hair and your make-up, got dressed and left, closing the door behind you. A long, deep breath was all you needed to relax. Anxiety was overwhelming as you've been waiting to see Chanyeol ever since you said goodbye last night.

After you knocked on Enzo's door, a happy Jongin made his appearance opening the door widely for you to enter the apartment.

'Hey Jongin' you said with a little too less excitement. He was here so that meant he was coming as well.

'Hi!' He said smiling. Why was he in such a good mood? Ooooohhhh... then it hit you. He and Enzo stayed more last night than you and Chanyeol. 'How are you feeling?' He said while going in the kitchen where Enzo was smoking a cigarette. He sat right next to Enzo putting his arm around you neighbor's chair

'I'm okay, just a bit tired. How are you? Did you have fun last night?'

'Yes, I really love Florence. Maybe not as much as Chanyeol but I still do.' He said the last phrase looking at you with a sympathetic expression. 'I hope he's not bothering you too much. He can be a lot to take in when you first meet him'

With that being said, Enzo finally had enough and hit him in the shoulder.

'Don't believe that.' They knew something you didn't but you couldn't really figure out what. 'Anyway, I'm sorry you had to leave so early last night. We had so much fun I think we stayed there until it was 5 or 6 in the morning. The music only got better so we couldn't really leave. You know me.' He said, giving you his sexy wink and you laughed. Yes, you did know him. He couldn't resist the music, it was like he was captivated and couldn't get out. Almost like he read your mind, he said 'Yeah, he's like that as well'

'I'm glad you had a great time and that you enjoyed it so much' You said getting up to get yourself a glass of water. The thirst was too much for you too handle.

'Well well well, who do we have here' it was Chanyeol who just entered the kitchen and came over to the table to sit next to you. 'Hello little monster' he said smiling at you.

'Heyy' you said blushing after he placed a small kiss on your cheek greeting you.

He was now wearing a plain black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. His curly hair was perfectly styled, and had a pair of round glasses on. He looked like a model, so tall and beautiful.

'Are you ready?' He said with excitement, desperately wanting to leave.

'Yes' you said glaring over at the other two boys who sat oppositely to you but they were in their own little world whispering something to each other.

Chanyeol got up, went to the fridge and grabbed two cold bottles of water. You stood up as well.

'Sorry to interrupt but aren't you guys coming as well?' You asked them.

'I promised Jongin we'll go a bit later since we're still quite tired'

'Ah, okay then!' You felt so happy. That meant you had Chanyeol all to yourself.

Chanyeol followed you silently and when you exited the building his excitement started to show up again.

'So, where are we going first? I can't wait to see everything' he said with a smile on his face while waving his hands at the buildings.

'Firstly I thought we could go for a walk in the old center, remember that bridge we saw last night. Afterwards we can go to have dinner in the Piazzale Michelangelo so you can enjoy the panoramic view. It's really spectaluar there, especially at sunset' you said as all your plans were torn apart so now you had to improvise.

'Honestly I can't really remember how that bridge looks like' he laughed 'since it was night when I saw it. I really don't know anything about Florence, never have I heard before that long name you just said'

'Then it's perfect, that way you'll be more amazed when you see everything' you smiled at him as he nodded. 'What's wrong?' His cute face was now shadowed by a frown and he fell deep into thought.

'It's just that I've never been in a new city without using my phone's GPS, we were almost always on schedule, even when I went on vacation with the guys' he let out a little laugh. 'It's a new sensation, to finally be free of everything and everyone.' You couldn't imagine what he truly meant, since he was a famous person you couldn't really comprehend what his life was like back home.

'I'm glad you feel so good here. This city has a way to make me feel more free as well. It's almost like time doesn't exist when you're wandering these streets' you pointed around the small street you were currently walking on, enjoying the sensation as well. Italian streets were full of history and it put you in a different state of mind as well, even though you were in fact a citizen.

'Honestly I don't even care if my phone is charged right now' he laughed 'and trust me that's a lot coming from me. Being here' he looked at you with glowing eyes 'is more than i hoped for from this vacation.'

You laughed at his statement 'don't tell me you're addicted to your phone as well?'

'The hell I'm not' he laughed back 'usually I'm always on my phone.'

'That means we have two things in common. Florence and phone addictions' you told him waiting for him to laugh again but when you looked at his face he was serious.

'Maybe not just those two things' he said not moving his eyes from the ground to meet yours.

You were close to the popular area now, the loud sounds were everywhere, people were talking, others were taking pictures and the energy hit you when you looked at this picture in front of you.

He pulled out his cap from his pocket and put it on, and you watched his moves with curiosity.

'For disguise. I don't want to be recognized, not when I'm feeling like this. I love my fans, I truly do, but right now I want to be just Chanyeol. For one day, I want to be a normal young man, discovering Florence and walking next to this beautiful young woman'

He managed to fit all his hair under the black cap, turned his phone off and hold your hand as you enetered the loud crowd.

You could swear he looked like a happy puppy, overly excited who kept getting amazed at the historical buildings. It was a hot day, both of you were exhausted from the heat but you didn't care. You had ice cream several times during the day and he fell in love over and over again with the Italian cuisine.

After a while, he had enough courage to kiss you on the lips right there in the middle of Florence. You were ever since, holding hands.

You even got lost a couple of times but he loved it. He wanted to discover everything, not just the popular places. The streets you wandered on were new even to you sometimes, since you've never been adventurous enough to enter them on your own. The walls surrounding some streets were so high, that some of them were hidden from the light, so he squeezed your hand from time to time to make sure you were okay.

You were now sitting on a bench, with your coffees next to you, looking at the fountain of Neptune. It was a well deserved break from all the walking you've been doing, even thought Chanyeol gave up and found you a taxi to get here.

You were talking about yourselves, opening up about your lives, your sorrows and your dreams.

'You know, sometimes I feel like no one really knows the real me. I'm surrounded by people almost all the time and I put this happy face on because of the image I created at the beginning, but no one wants to go deeper. It's like I'm the 'happy virus' and just that. I feel so suffocated by all of it. I'm forcing myself to be happy even when I'm not, but it's tearing me apart'

It broke your heart to hear him say that, yet you stayed silent, listening to all his dark thoughts he's been keeping inside for way too long. You wanted to help him but you didn't know what to do so you just stood there in his arms, holding his hand.

'Maybe this vacation is good for you after all, you can use it to get rid of these negative thoughts. You cand always be yourself when you're with me.' You looked him in the eyes when you said the last phrase. 'And you don't have to feel pressured to make people happy all the time. I'm sure they will all understand, even your fans. Especially them.'

He didn't answer, he just squeezed you closer to him.

'I can't thank you enough. For today. For everything. For being who you are'

After 5 hours, you were quite tired from all the walking and eventually you found yourselves sitting at a terrace in Piazzale Michelangelo enjoying the panoramic view. He was eating a huge pizza on his own while you chose to eat a piadina, your favourite.

You found out that you had much more in common, from comics to music. He was surprised to hear that you were studying music, even offered to come with you this week at one of the courses. Of course, when you told him that he wouldn't understand anything he felt offended, regardless the fact that you were talking about the language. He gave up, agreeing after a while, but you told him he should come over at your place to use your guitar if he felt like it. He didn't bring his since the other boys didn't let him, they insisted on the fact that they were here on vacation so they should spend more time outside.

Right now you weren't talking, and you loved the fact that with him silence was never overwhelming. It was in fact completely comfortable. Never in your life have you met someone with whom you felt so good to be yourself. You enjoyed this way too much, his presence was fitting yours too well.

'Give me your phone' he didn't even bother to ask anymore. You handed him the phone and he took a picture of you still enjoying your food.

'Heyyy. I thought you wanted to look over the pictures not capture me with my full mouth' you whined at him but he laughed.

'I want to capture everything. That and you looked beautiful. You know you're not supposed to moan when you're eating'

'But this is so good' you groaned again at the taste as you took another bite.

He laughed at you and shook his head.

'After all I've seen today, I'm more surprised by your love for food than anything else' he smiled at you.

'Wait until you see me eat Nutella then.'

'Is this an invitation?' He looked at you with a grin on his face.

'Don't be rude, I'm still eating' you jokingly punched him in the shoulder but he grabbed your wrist right after and intertwined his fingers with yours. He looked at you with a different gaze now and he patted your hand with his thumb.

'I don't want to be rude, but I just love joking with you. I don't think it's possible for someone to get pissed off so quickly from all these small things' he said taking a bite from the last piece of pizza.

'It's not like that' you whined again. Or was it? 'Okay maybe I am like that sometimes.'

'I think I start to know you, hm? Even better than yourself?' He grinned at you again and you couldn't help but smile this time.

'Let's not exaggerate. Anyway, it's mutual. So be careful'

'What are you going to do? Whine more or?'

'Stop being so funny, I might choke to death'

He didn't respond but he finished his food with smiling eyes. You liked how the crinkles around his eyes made him look. After you finished eating as well, you asked for the check. He insisted on paying but you were not okay with that, so after a long debate each of you payed for his own consummation.

'Come! Be quick!' He took you by your hand again as you got up and ran over to the stairs to see the panoramic view of Florence as the sun poured his warmth over the city. The sunset was here and the colors made everything seem like a dream. But this wasn't a dream. You were really here, taking photos of a smiling Chanyeol and laughing at his silly faces.

When the sun was almost down, you signaled him to sit down on the top of the stairs, where many people where already waiting for the sun to set. So you sat right there on the hot ground, with his arm around your shoulders and your head on his shoulder, holding hands and watched silently as the sun disappeared from the sky. You were surrounded by so many people yet the only sound you heard was his calm breath in your ear and his humming of Coldplay's song Everglow.

You were now almost home, both of you laughing out loud.

'I told you that was not the street!' You said between laughs.

'I told you not to tell me! Damn, I really thought I knew my way back here.'

'Your GPS is not working? Can't you see the Moon to guide you?' You laughed again, still amused by the fact that Chanyeol thought he knew his way back on his own.

You accidentaly entered a deadened streed and met a stranger who scared the shit out of him. He thought he was about to get beaten up by the man but actually he lived there and you trespassed his private garden so he calmly told you to leave. The man was indeed scary, with tattoos, piercings and had a muscular mass twice the size of Chanyeol's weight.

'Next time I'll know better. I have to learn this, I hate getting lost. My friend Baekhyun is the one who usually gets lost, I'm always the best one when it comes to spatial orientation' he smiled but there was sadness in his eyes, he missed his friend.

'Don't worry, I'll help you remember it next time'

As you approached the building he pulled his phone from his pocket, turning it on. Suddenly, his phone started to go crazy with notifications and his face went from red to pale in a matter of seconds.

He was frozen in place when you felt a cold hand getting a grip of your wrist, turning you around.

It was fucking Sara.

'What do you want?' You snapped.

She pulled you away from the frozen Chanyeol, hiding both of you into the shadows.

'Is that how you talk to your best friend?'

You looked at her with the most straight face you thought you had in you. How did she even knew where you lived?

'I just wanted to give you this phone' she handed you a burner phone 'my number is the only one saved so you can call me when you get upstairs'

'What? Why?'

'For updates' she simply said, and gave you her glorious evil smile. It made you shiver. 'I'll leave now, but don't forget to call me. I'll help you clean up the mess you made'

You stood there for a brief second after you put the phone in your bag. What the hell was she talking about?

Chanyeol was still in the same place you left him, but burried his phone in his pocket before you got to him. A fast emotion came and left his fast before you could tell which.

'Who was that?' He asked curiously.

Fuck.

'Just a colleague from university. She lives in this area and just came to say hi' he looked at you like he knew you lied. You couldn't really tell him, could you now? He couldn't read your expression so he just gave up without any more questions.

He opened the door without speaking and he took his cap off stuffing it in his pocket. When you arrived at your front door he looked at you with a strong phase. Something was wrong, you felt it.

He cupped your cheeks and pressed his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. You did the same but you couldn't understand anything. What was going on?

He pressed his lips on your nose and opened his eyes waiting for your agreement. You didn't say anything but pressed your lips on his closing the gap between you. He was holding onto you but as the kiss grew wilder, he stopped.

'I'm sorry' he whispered so silent you thought you had imagined it.

'What for?'

In response he just clenched his jaw, pulling you into a tight hug. His hands were on your back and hair, and you put yours around his neck. His breathing was deep and when he broke the hug, giving you another kiss, you felt it to your bones that something was incredibly wrong. It felt like a goodbye kiss.

'I will never forget today' he whispered again as he turned around to leave.

You were afraid to ask but the questions slipped before you could stop it.

'Will I see you tomorrow?'

It was echoed by the walls but there was no answer. When you heard his door being shut you felt your tears starting to find their way down on your cheeks, uncontrollable sobbing coming out from your mouth. You were so confused about what was going on, but you kept crying. It was too much. You finally found someone perfectly made for you and now what?

With trembling hands you emptied your bag, and found the phone Sara gave you. You tossed it in the trash and prepared yourself to go to sleep.

When you were all cleaned up and considerably more chill, you finally decided to check your phone. You sat on the bed with your phone in your hands checking all your favourite apps. But instead of the usual posts, it was full of pictures and articles.

'EXO's Park Chanyeol was found with a stranger walking the streets of Florence, Italy. Is she going to be his next victim?'

'Park Chanyeol and Italian girl spotted in the crowd of tourists.'

'EXO's Sehun, Jongin and Chanyeol vacation location was found, but who is this mysterious girl?'

Thankfully, whoever sent the picture blurred your face so you weren't recognizable, but how did this help you?

Comments were flooding in the bottom section. And each one of them was negative, full of hate. 'She doesn't deserve Chanyeol', 'it should've been me', 'I bet she looks terrible that's why we can't even see her face', 'we have to find her', 'she looks so ugly', 'why is she dressed like that when she's with our rap god?'. You shut down your phone sobbing in your pillow. How could his happen? All you wanted was to discover who the stranger from downstairs was. You cried and cried for what seemed like hours. You couldn't lie to yourself. You knew he was famous, but you didn't really think about the harm you'd experience. The only thing you wanted was to know more about him. But now you did, and it didn't make things any easier.

He knew, and he left.

You wiped your tears away and went to the trash can. There's only one thing you could to not to be recognized by the fandom. Picking out the phone you called the only contact in the list. Trying to control your sobbings you sat at the edge of your bed.

'I knew you'd call, I've been waiting.' Sara was clearly proud of herself, she didn't even cared to say hello.

'Can you help me?'

'Of course I can' she said smiling at the other end of the line.

Chanyeol POV

She looked at me with a scared face but I couldn't tell her anything. I wanted to protect her but I failed and I don't know what to do now. I know I broke her heart, I know she felt it was a goodbye kiss. I already called my manager and told him to fix the online mess. By morning, all those pictures of us should be forever erased from the internet. He assured me he's going to find out who put them there and buy all copyrights from them.

But until then, all I can do was to disappear from her life and hope she'll forget about me. Deep down though, I know I will never forget her. I will always remember how stunning she looked in that black dress, and how she shivered when I touched her for the first time. Her lips felt so good on mine, like they belonged there.

Today was going to be a memory I will hold on to for a very long time. I have never opened up so much to anyone but her. She had something, something really special that made me go crazy.

As I sat on the bed trying to get some sleep, I was looking at the pictures of us. The only ones I had were the ones paparazzi captured. How long has it been, one hour? Maybe more? I wish I had the pictures I took of her when we were happy with not one care about the world. I needed to remember that today wasn't a dream. She was real.

As if she heard my thought, I got a message notification. Her named popped up on my screen and my heart fluttered. This was my chance, maybe i could fight for her if she wanted me to.

I opened the messages only to see that she sent me our pictures. I wanted to text her back, I could at least thank her or ask her how she was feeling, but I couldn't. She had blocked my number.

Never in my life have I needed my guitar more than I do right now.

I spent that night looking at the memories we made. How it felt so surreal to have her next to me. Of course it couldn't last just a bit more longer. I am Chanyeol, of course I had to fuck things up. I should've known that damn cap wasn't enough to keep me from being recognized and I put her at risk.

I was almost asleep in the early morning, when I heard her. She was playing a sad song on her guitar. I stood there unable to close my eyes again, just listening to that beautiful sound. I needed to see her but I couldn't, for her own safety. When the music stopped, I rushed to to window waiting. That was the first morning I watched her leave to that damn course.

[stars-and-branches]

1, 7, 12, 15, 17, 19, 21, 23, 24, 25, 27, 30, 31, 38, 39, 42-51, 53, 57, 58 (would just love it hear more about), 60, 65, 70, 72, 73, 78-83, 90, 93 (hate this term being used outside of indigenous contexts but an animal you connect with), 94-97, 99

Answers under the cut!

1. What’s one animal you wish you could have as a pet but can’t?

A snake, I think they’re really cool! I don’t really know enough about reptiles to be able to have one and care for it properly though.

7. Chocolate or fruity candy?

I am,,,,, a fruity bitch. I like fruity candy most of the time but sometimes chocolate hits the spot.

12. Any hidden talents?

Not really hidden but I don’t talk about it a lot on here. I know how to play the piano! I took lessons for a decade.

15. Favorite board game?

Mexican train, my family plays it sometimes for game night and it’s fun.

17. Heat on or keep it cold with lots of layers?

Layerssss. It could be below zero outside and I’d still keep the windows cracked open so I can layer on more blankets.

19. Favorite song to belt out at the top of your lungs when you’re alone?

Any song Hozier’s ever made, the My Chemical Romance Danger Days album, or just whatever is living in my head rent free. Lately it’s been sea shanties.

21. At what age did you first have alcohol?

I think I was in middle school? My Dad gave me a sip of his beer expecting some dramatic reaction and uh, that didn’t happen.

23. What’s the most amount of money you’ve spent on a single item of clothing?

I don’t really like spending money - paying the housing deposit out of pocket is a little painful rn - so I guess $40ish?

24. What do you typically wear to formal events?

When I was younger I never had a choice and was always shoved into a dress. Nowadays I’d probably go by how dysphoric I’m feeling. I want to wear a suit at least once!

25. Favorite memory?

Hoooo boy that’s hard to pick. I guess going to see Dead and Company for a three day show at the Hollywood Bowl a year before my Mom died. We had a lot of fun, it was really beautiful, and there were a lot of good moments.

27. Favorite shoes?

I have a pair of black leather heeled boots with red laces. I refer to them as my “stompy boots”. They’re the only thing I own that emits top energy and I never wear them because they have a five inch heel and I have lots of foot pain.

30. Have you ever had braces?

Unfortunately. I got them taken off a few months ago though :D

31. Most dangerous thing you’ve ever done?

Drive. I’m the walking talking stereotype of gays being unable to drive. I almost crashed my grandmother’s car with my entire family in it. Not a fun time.

38. What color do you wear the most?

I answered this in a different ask but black. I’m trying to incorporate more colors into my clothes though!

39. Favorite season?

The rainy season where I live. For a few months the usually barren desert teems with life. It’s beautiful and the only time I can actually grow anything.

42. First car you ever owned?

I have a 2001 Honda Accord.

43. What time do you usually go to bed?

Early. My friends often give me shit for having the sleeping hours of a retiree. I used to be a night owl but I had to get up at 4am all throughout high school so I started going to bed immediately after dinner. I haven’t been able to kick the habit.

44. Are you a competitive person?

Yes but I don’t like competitions. I’m competitive in the sense that I’m constantly comparing myself to how others are doing and I try to be better than those around me. Of course, I’d never admit this out loud but the internet is fine apparently a;kjnvdfdasdvdf

45. Least favorite color?

Orange.

46. First pet you’ve ever owned?

A small tabby cat named India. I still have her, my parents got her when I was 4 months old :).

47. Sweet or salty?

Yes.

48. Favorite pasta dish?

Ravioli!!!

49. Favorite kind of chips?

Limon chips. Though black pepper is a close second.

50. Talk about something you’re passionate about.

I did this in a previous ask and I’m tired so this question gets a skip.

51. What are some of your hobbies?

Baking, gardening, video games, reading, journaling, drawing.

53. Favorite kind of pizza?

Either vegetarian pizza or margherita pizza.

57. Favorite labels about you?

I take pride in my queerness and being disabled. The latter because I love the spoonie community and it’s a huge part of my identity.

58. Are you a religious person?

Yes, in the sense that I’m a very spiritual person. I’m a witch. I’ve considered myself a pagan for the past five years, and I’m currently exploring Christianity since my religious path has grown too stagnant.

60. What size shoe do you wear?

It depends on the phase of the moon just about, lmao. I wear a 6 1/2, as wide as the shoemaker can make it. I have really short but really wide feet.

65. Favorite fruit?

Yes. I love most fruits (fuck pears).

70. Favorite dessert?

I don’t really have a set favorite? If I had to pick I guess it would be a fruit tart.

72. Age you learned how to swim?

Either 6 or 7.

73. Tell a funny story.

I used to be friends with a guy who was like. Ridiculously tall. Ultra flamboyant, very loud, like if the color neon orange was condensed into a human being. In my sophomore year of highschool we sat on some bleachers during the homecoming pep rally. He refused to stand up for the national anthem. We were sitting directly in front of the football players in the most redneck school in california. I sat down with him because I didn’t want to witness him getting jumped and thrown off the bleachers. We got called a bunch of slurs through the whole anthem and screamed at. Stuff was thrown at us. They kept kicking us repeatedly. One dude was kicking his neck over and over. The football players were more of a disruption than we were. Eventually, everyone sat down and they finally got bored and stopped. Aside from the one kid who was kicking the person I was friends with, he passed time by throwing pieces of food at us. 

This kid, who I’m dubbing Dipshit McGee, kept doing this until I heard him suddenly yell, “Oh shit!”

I looked over my shoulder. My friend at the time started guffawing. Dipshit McGee dropped his phone from the top of the bleachers and it shattered into a million little pieces on the dirt below.

78. What’s your favorite compliment to give?

Usually simple things that express my appreciation. I use “I love you” a lot with my family. There’s only so many times that you get the chance to say it.

79. What’s your favorite compliment to receive?

Honestly any compliment. I’m not used to flattery so my brain just shuts down instantly.

80. Has your opinion changed on something recently?

Yup, that’s why I’m looking into abrahamic religions.

81. Do you always order the same thing at a restaurant or order something different each time?

If I go to the restaurant a lot then I’ll usually just order the same thing. If it’s somewhere new I’ll switch things up a bit.

82. What’s something you’ve always wanted to try but haven’t yet?

Crochet. It’s something all the women in my family do. I have all the tools I need (except for yarn) but haven’t brought myself to work on it.

83. If you could learn to do anything right now, what would it be?

On top of all the other stuff I’m learning? Maybe increase my cooking/baking skills! I want to work with pastry more.

90. What’s something you wish you had more knowledge about?

The occult, spirituality, religion. I’m always chasing after knowledge in those areas.

93. What’s your spirit animal?

Yeah, I hate this term being used in a non-indigenous context too. As far as an animal I connect with goes, it’s a tie between snakes and cats. Cats because I love them dearly and have connected with them my whole life, we vibe. Snakes because I love their spiritual significance: connection to the earth, constantly shedding their skin and changing.

94. What’s the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to you?

Managing to steer the car away from crashing in the incident I mentioned in 31.

95. Are you the type to have an organized mess, or no mess at all?

No mess at all, preferably. I like to keep my space relatively tidy. Mess makes me really stressed.

96. Do you tend to make decisions based on the past, present, or future?

All three.

97. Are you a planner or a more spontaneous person?

I’m more of a planner. Spontaneity is very difficult for me but I’m trying to improve.

99. What do you hope never changes?

My ability to romanticize the small parts of my life, to find joy in even the simplest of things.

[isrustandstardust]

1.How many pets do you own?

ATM, none.

2. What’s your least favorite season?

Summer maybe.

3. Do you prefer to text or call?

Text. I hate speaking on the phone.

4. Morning or night?

Night owl here.

5. Do you like pasta?

I don’t eat pasta, or bread, or wheat in general.

6. Are you an introvert or an extrovert?

Introvert. Almost asocial.

7. What’s your favorite desert?

Pistachio ice cream.

8. Do you enjoy walks?

A lot.

9. Are you a frequent user of Facebook?

Not so much.

10. Do you watch animated shows still?

Not lately.

11. Can you roll your tongue?

Yup.

12. What’s your “lucky” number?

7, the japanese demon number.

13. Are you scared of anything?

I’m scared of a lot of things. Abandonment for example.

14. Big mac or big whopper?

I’m not a fan of eating that shit.

15. Do you like to play board games?

I haven’t played in a long time, still like it tho.

16. Are you fond of romantic novels?

No, not really my kind of book.

17. Fruitloops or cocopops?

I don’t have breakfast XD

18. Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?

I had a story with one.

19. Are you a heavy drinker?

No, I’m almost a non drinker rn.

20. Would you forgive someone for cheating?

No.

21. Are you superstitious?

Not at all.

22. Have you seen A Clockwork Orange?

More than once.

23. Do you like to read?

I devour books.

24. Are you easily distressed?

No, actually it takes a lot to distress me.

25. Do you believe in aliens?

Sure thing.

26. If you were the last person alive besides one other person you get to chose, who would it be?

My husband obviously.

27. Dogs or cats?

Both, but maybe cats.

28. Are you a grumpy person?

Only in the morning.

29. What’s something you hate?

Hypocrites.

30. Are you a worry wart?

I’m the opposite.

31. Do you like having your picture taken?

It depends on the day.

32. Do you like cotton candy?

Nope. Way too sweet.

33. Would you ever use a dating site?

Never did, never will. I find them so lame.

34. Do you believe in ghosts?

Not so sure.

35. Rap or pop?

Metal/Ambient deep house.

36. What’s the weirdest flavor of ice cream you’ve tried?

Olive oil.

37. Do you like math?

I don’t dislike it.

38. Are you the type of person to laugh at others misfortune?

When they’re well deserved.

39. Love or lust?

Both.

40. Do you remember lyrics easily?

Yes.

41. What was/is your favorite school subject?

Art and chemistry.

42: Do you like tattoos?

A lot. I have 15.

43. Are you the type of person to lie?

Not if I can avoid it, but if I have, I’m really good at doing so.

44. Do you eat porridge for breakfast?

I don’t eat at all, I can only manage to drink coffee.

45. What music are you listening to right now?

Burial - Stolen Dog.

46. Are you allergic to anything?

Pollen, dust.

47. Do you like Lady Gaga?

Love her outfits, hate her music.

48. What about Nick Minaj?

I really have no idea of who she is.

49. Do you like rainy days?

A lot!

50. Last question, do you like pie?

Not my favorite thing.

[dansphlevels]

Libertadores (Liberators)

Ao3

I am so excited to finally be publishing this! I’ve been working on this fic since September, as a part of the @phandomreversebang with my amazing Artist, @trashofdoom, and beta, @axolotlpj. Before reading, you have to check out the incredible art here! I love how this story turned out so much, and hope that you love it too :)

Summary: The current conflict in Venezuela told through the eyes of two boys who are not supposed to be in love, not supposed to protest, and not supposed to fight. But they do anyways.

Length: 20k words

Themes: The Venezuela crisis, au where Dan and Phil were born in Venezuela, real life canon violence, protesting, closeted relationship, angst with fluff

TW: weight loss, cannon real life violence, non-graphic descriptions of injuries, light homophobic language

Look at the art for this fic done by @trashofdoom here!

 The day that everything went to shit was warm and sunny.

 It was the type of day where everything felt so nice, so normal, that you thought nothing would ever go wrong again. And though that wasn't true, it felt nice.

 School had gotten out less than an hour before, and Daníel and Felipe sat on Felipe’s, also known as Phil’s, balcony, snacking on some food from Juanta’s down the street. Below them, the noise of the city felt like it came from another world. People called out to each other in Spanish and motorbikes sped down the narrow streets.

 Phil’s neighborhood, like most of those in the barrios of Caracas, was packed to the brim of people. Two story houses painted reds, yellows, blues and whites stood shoulder to shoulder, competing against each other for the brightest hues, the most confusing architecture. Plants weren't rare, but they weren't prioritized. Trees dotted in between the casas, full green Sarrapia trees that stayed the same color all year, winter or summer. Fall didn't mean much, besides maybe the temperature would dip below 26°C and they’d have cause to comment on it. No, actually, that wasn’t true. Fall meant rain, just like Summer meant rain. Any time of day, at any moment, the rain would come and when it had filled its course then it would leave, ending as quickly as it started.

 From May to November it was the rainy season. The rest of the year it was the dry season. All year it was hot, and at any point, dry season or not, it could rain.

 It didn't rain that day. Maybe God decided there was enough confusion going on without adding rain into the mix.

 But at that point in time, on that fateful day of April 14, 2014, Daniel y Felipe, or just Dan and Phil, sat on Phil’s balcony contently. Between them lay the takeout from Juanta’s, paper cups of Nestea and two arepas, one for each of them.

 “Do you want some?” Dan offered, holding up his cup of Nestea. “I got peach.”

 Phil shrugged, grabbing it. “Sure. I got peach too, but I bet yours is better.”

 Dan reached to take his cup back, but Phil had scooted away, sipping from the straw with a playful expression on his face, “Hey! Don't drink it all!”

 “I already finished mine,” Phil admitted, a shy smirk on his face.

 Dan snatched the cup away, trying to scowl but failing to hide his smile. “You have an addiction.”

 “Maybe. But it could be worse. I could be addicted to cocaína.”

 Dan chewed on his straw, slightly bashful, “That stuff’ll probably kill you anyways, with how much you drink.”

 “You're such a mom.”

 “Yeah, well don't die on me, okay? We've only been… friends for a few months, but I'm liking things so far,” Dan could feel his cheeks heat up at the word. Friends. It was a lie, a placeholder for a much stronger word, one they could not say aloud, not here. Likely no one could hear them on the balcony, but it wasn't worth the risk.

 Phil smiled, playing along, “Don't worry Dan. I promise I won't.”

---

 April 14, 2013 wasn't the day that everything went wrong. But you could say it was an important day, one that was necessary for the following events to happen. This was the day that Nicolás Maduro assumed the office as the President of Venezuela.

---

 Five months later, and the power went out. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before, but it still shook everyone up a bit. It wasn't just the power going out in a few places- it went out in most of the country.

 One moment, there was power, and the next— nothing. Traffic lights flickered and blinked out. The underground transportation system was sent to a screeching halt.

 Phil opened his front door to find Dan, standing with a sheet wrapped around him, looking distraught. “My computer shut down. I can't go on tumblr.”

 They went into Phil’s room and laid on his bed, talking and holding hands. It was one of the only places they could show such affection, one of the only places it was truly safe. It got dark soon, and without any electricity in the house, they were left to do their best to adjust and walk slowly to the kitchen. Dan sat with Phil’s family for dinner as they tried to clean out their refrigerator, hoping to keep any food from going bad.

 Dan slept over that night, shyly climbing in bed with Phil, “Is it bad to be worried?”

 Phil considered it, staring up at the ceiling, “Nah. But I don't think there's anything to be worried about. Power should be up again soon, it always is.”

 He nodded, trying to be strong. But there was something ominous about the darkness and how it loomed over them, whispering of things to come, “Power’ll be back up tomorrow,” Dan repeated.

 Why did this outage feel so much worse than the others? Maybe it was because there had been few outages in the past few month, not always even noticeable. Did everyone else feel it, that chill? Or was it just Dan?

 He chose to ignore it for now, rolling over and wiggling until his head rested on Phil's chest. Neither dared to breathe; it was the first time they'd been that close. They'd both had girlfriends, but dating a boy was different. Uncharted territory, where every movement was to be considered.

 Eventually they relaxed, and even managed to sleep. Phil’s stomach was soft, a little bit rounded but Dan liked it. And when they woke up, they woke up to electricity.

---

 “Do you know what was with the power yesterday?”

 “Maduro tweeted about it. He said it was a sabotage, by the ‘extreme right wing’. But it didn't affect the oil industry, apparently.”

 “Oh, good. Yeah, we'd be really screwed over if something happened with the oil.”

---

 In 1999, Hugo Chavez was elected president of Venezuela. He cut ties with the United States and cozied up to China and Russia, both of which loaned Venezuela billions. Chavez ruled until his death in 2013, when he was succeeded by Nicolás Maduro.

 But his government had far overspent on welfare programs, leaving Venezuela in colossal debt. It declared farmlands state property and then abandoned them, and instead made the nation completely dependent on selling its oil abroad.

 Maduro kept up the regime's practices. His administration also stopped publishing any reliable statistics, including ones on economic growth and inflation. It accepted millions in bribes for construction projects and racked up worse debts that it is still struggling to pay.

 Meanwhile, the only commodity Venezuela had left began to sink in value. In 2014, the price of oil was about $100 a barrel. Then several countries started to pump too much oil as previously inaccessible oil could be dredged up with new drilling technology, and at the same time, businesses globally weren't buying more gasoline. Too much oil caused the global price to drop to $26 in 2016.

 Today it hovers around $50, which means Venezuela's income has been cut in half.

 That means a once rich country now is struggling to get by. That means job cuts, and wage cuts, and as everyone needs more money just to survive, prices go up. Homelessness goes up.

 Inflation skyrockets.

 And suddenly you have a country full of underfed, underpaid people struggling just to get by. This is a story about two of them.

—

 Dan and Phil sat in the small restaurant, the shared Nestea between them. Outside, a protest was underfoot, signs and chanting and demands for change. Already, the changes in the people’s forms were becoming apparent, the shrinking arms, the clothes that used to fit but were now a size too big.

 Phil sipped the last of the Nestea, throwing it in the trash with an air of finality. “I don’t think I’ll be drinking this anymore.”

 And so it begun.

——

 Before Maduro became the president of Venezuela, he was a bus driver. His history of formal education was non existent.

 In 2013, with inflation at 50%, he was given emergency powers for a year, prompting protests. Everything done to make things better and inflation go down failed on epic levels. Minimum wages raises just meant that everything became more expensive to produce. Regulating the prices of basic need produces meant that companies would stop making them when they stopped making a profit.

 As the months waned on, Dan found himself curling his hands into fists whenever the tv showed the president's announcements. He’d go outside and see the policidad in their brand new uniforms and wonder how the government could afford them when the rest of the country was struggling just to find toilet paper. He’d walk on the streets, seeing another painting of Chavez erected and wonder how much it cost to commission.

 Electricity cuts became normal. Sometimes, they’d turn the knobs on the sinks and find that the water had been shut off, again. Other times it came out murky or with bleach mixed in in an attempt to clean it.

 They could adjust. Dan’s mom could use the rice maker to cook most of their food, a result of rationed gas. They could collect water in pots and pans for when it was shut off, they could buy bottles of clean portable water, they could go to the grocery store on their assigned day and stare at aisles of overpriced, understocked food. They could ration things, food, toilet paper, gas, water, money, toothpaste. But when Dan walked on the streets and saw all the little kids with swollen stomachs and stick arms, he wanted to ask why Maduro hadn’t sent anyone to work all of the empty farms?

 What happens when no one has enough money for food anymore? What about when no one has any access to medicine anymore? When the streets are crowded with the starving homeless, and they don’t look much different than anyone else, besides the policidad and guardias roaming the streets in their brand new uniforms.

——

 “I want to protest,” Dan whispered.

 Once again, they were sat on Phil’s balcony, though this time it was under the cloak of night. They sat on the railing, watching the neighborhood below, still very alive despite the darkness.

 Phil knew it would happen. He knew it was had to, because he knew Dan.

 It was three years later, and through all their arguments and struggles, they were somehow still together. Dan had dropped out of university; Phil had struggled to stay in; Dan had gotten a job and lost it a few months later because the business had to shut down; and Phil’s dad was forced to change hours at his job, meaning they seldom saw each other anymore. His family was breaking apart, the world seemed to be breaking apart, the very balcony they sat on seemed to have new cracks that they couldn’t afford to replace- but somehow, through it all, he still had Dan.

 Overly headstrong, overly persistent, and reckless to the point of disaster, Dan was a storm stuffed inside a pair of too large jeans and a too dark t-shirt. Of course he would want to protest, of course it had to happen eventually.

 Phil swallowed. He agreed that protesting was important, but that didn’t mean he wanted Dan to do it. There was no such thing as a peaceful protest when your country was slowly starving to death.

 “Okay. When should we go?”

—-

They were not prepared.

 The protesters had marched and yelled, hoisting up banners and flags and signs listing the injustices they’d suffered. Some wore T-shirt’s wrapped around their lower faces, others had strange gas-mask type things covered their noses and mouths. Some people carried huge wooden shields, or had a makeshift type of armor made from cardboard or carpet. They all bore the signs of previous fights, scars and grim faces of determination.

 They marched together. And when they reached the line of soldiers, or guardias, they were shot down. Not with real bullets, but with rubber ones, and then with whatever the guardias loaded into their weapons. Some people retaliated, firing back with burning Molotov cocktails or rocks. But this protest was thick in people as inexperienced as Dan and Phil were, and they fell quickly. A lot of people ran.

 Dan and Phil were standing still when the tear gas was released. Cans opened and thrown into the crowd, resulting in yelps of pain and yelling for people to run. Their own eyes were going red and teary when Dan finally moved, grabbing stones from the ground and running forwards, hefting them into the ranks of guardias, some hitting their clear shields and bouncing back.

 "Come on, grab something! We have to fight!"

 And they did. Everyone fought, or at least tried to. Just by going to the protest you were fighting, even if you turned to flee when you realized the true danger and chaos.

 Minutes turned to what may have been hours, but who knew anymore? Time was as abstract as the swirls of gas rising towards the sky.

 Phil’s eyes caught on something, and before he knew what he was doing he was running.

 "Phil!"

 But it was too late. There was the impact, then the sound hitting his ears, then the pain. An unfamiliar hue of bright red stained his arm, and before he could process anything further, Dan was on him tearing him back away from the front lines. "We have to go, we have to-"

 "I’m fine, I’m fine, I-"

 "Have to get you home, you can’t- God Phil, you can't-!" Voice crack. Phil could hear noises around them, the commotion as the protest took a turn for the worse, but it felt like it was somewhere else. "Come on, we have to leave!"

—-

 “What happened?” Martín leant up against the wall with his arms crossed, looking at the boys with some weird mixture of emotions that didn't quite add up. Worry? Anger? Intrigue?

 Dan had already helped Phil out of his shirt, and was now using the cloth to dab at the wound on Phil's arm. Phil scowled, his face tight with pain.

 “He tried to help someone,” Dan growled in Spanish, digging through the first aid kit, “They were sick or something from the tear gas, and this idiot—” he yanked out a small roll of thin bandages, and began tightly wrapping them around Phil’s arm, just below the shoulder. “-this idiot tried to help them.”

 “They were sick!” Phil defended, wincing as Dan yanked tighter.

 Dan ignored Phil's protest, continuing to explain to Martín what happened. “He ran right in front of the soldiers. Right in front of them.” 

 Phil looked up at his older brother, pleading, “I only got hit with a piece of glass.”

 “You were lucky,” Dan agreed, tearing the bandage away from the rest of the ball, “I'm surprised they didn't pump you full of buckshot. You're lucky the glass only hit your arm.”

 Martín winced as Dan yanked the bandages tighter, tying them off, “What type of glass was it?”

 “The dirty type,” Dan complained as he started packing up the first aid kit. It was from before everything happened, before they needed one. It was pathetically small, but there was no way to get more supplies, “It cut deep. No other reason for him to have bled so much.”

 “What if it gets infected?”

 “Then I hope Phil doesn't use that arm often,” Dan zipped up the bag, staring at it like he was looking for something that was missing.

 Phil reached out for Dan's arm slowly, as if touching a wild animal, “Dan… you're being dramatic.”

 “I'm being realistic.”

 He pulled Dan's arm, forcing him to at least look at him. Even though Phil was the one who was supposed to be in pain, it looked like the injury affected Dan even more, “I'm fine. It's not going to get infected, nothing's going to happen.”

 Dan's eyes flickered to Martín, still standing, still watching them. He pulled his arm away, “You're right,” he said, and the words felt like cotton sticking to the back of his throat, “Fine. I don't care. It's no big deal.”

 Phil wanted to say more, but he knew he couldn't. Not now. This was the beginning of a more important dialogue, and it wasn't one that could be said with others around to hear it.

---

 “You could have died.”

 They had been quiet for a long time, just staring at the ceiling. It wasn't time for dinner yet, but when it was, Dan would have to go home. You didn't stay at someone's house for dinner anymore, not in these times.

 Phil stretched out his hand gently, letting his fingertips barely touch Dan's arm. They had to be careful with touching each other in the real world- but in this world, the one that existed only in their bedrooms with the door closed, they could afford a little affection. “I wasn't going to die. Please, the soldiers don't have that good of aim.”

 Dan snorted, smiling fondly. Lightly, yet fondly. “They wouldn't have to have good aim Phil, you were two meters in front of them.”

 “Yeah, I mean come on. I feel like Maduro should start investing in some better soldiers, the fact that they didn't kill me is ridiculous. Seriously? A little scratch is the best you can do?”

 “They should really up their game,” Dan agreed, playing along. He paused, and the joking mood dissolved back away, “They shouldn't want to kill you.”

 Phil titled his head, staring at his fingers tracing shapes on Dan's arms tiredly, “I don't think they want to kill me. Just want to… shut me up, I guess.”

 “They want to subdue you. They want us to suffer in silence.”

 Phil's stomach hurt. He supposed eventually, he'd have to get used to the feeling of hunger. It wasn't going away anytime soon.

 “I guess that's why we're protesting,” he decided, fingers going limp, “Let them know we aren't going to starve in silence.”

 There was a knock on the door, and both boys immediately jumped up, sitting on opposite sides of the bed casually, “Yeah?”

 “¡Cena!,” Martín called through the door, effectively ending their conversation. Dinner!

—-

 It was a few weeks later, and Dan lay in bed, alone. Alone hurt a lot more on an empty stomach.

 He knew he should sleep, but didn't want to. He just couldn't turn his brain off. Around Phil, even when everything was wrong, it was okay. But alone…

 Dan thought of the protest that day. The guardias, those mamawebos had fired round after round of rubber bullets. Some protesters ran for cover, some stood firm and hoped that whatever they had in the way of armor would save them. Dan had his Resistencia shield, which Phil ducked behind too. Phil, with his slingshot and bag full of rocks. It wasn't just a protest- this was a war they were fighting. Rocks versus bullets.

 Rubber or not, they did damage. Dan hadn't had the displeasure yet of being hit by a rubber bullet, but he was one of few. They were nasty injuries, and though the bullets didn't penetrate the skin, they hit hard enough to make you bleed, and left horrible green and black bruises. Sometimes, if they hit just the right spot, they could break bones. Dan had heard that they could be deadly. But they lived in a world where anything could be deadly, if you were desperate enough and threw it hard enough.

 After the guardias ran out of rubber bullets, they threw rocks. Some days, they weren't as violent, but today, they definitely were. New recruits, or so he had heard. More angry. More willing to fight. Dan wanted to spit at them. Instead of protesting to try and save their rapidly diminishing world, these people chose to fight against the protestors.

 If Phil were here, he'd try to defend them. Say that maybe they had a family member who was sick, or maybe they couldn't afford food anymore. Being a soldier meant these things were more accessible. Then, Dan would laugh, painfully, heartlessly. We’re all sick. And you should let me know if you find someone who can still afford food, because I saw a lot of people today, but I don't think a single one of them can afford 200% inflation. 

 Then Phil would give him that look, that stupid look of disappointment. Betrayal. And Dan would say What? It's true!

 /Just because it's true doesn't mean it's right.

 That's what Phil would say. If he were there. But he wasn't- Dan was alone, very alone, and that's why he was thinking those things in the first place.

 But it hurt. And it wouldn't stop hurting until Dan's stomach was full and everything stopped smelling of goddamn tear gas.

---

 Phil knew that it happened; of course he knew. There were things you noticed without allowing yourself to notice, things you process and file away for later, without ever really thinking about it.

 Phil knew that when he took the trash out, sometimes there were pieces of garbage on the ground, as if a wild animal had gotten in, and he knew that it wasn't a wild animal. But the day that he actually saw what was digging through his trash was the day he realized that he couldn't pretend forever.

 He'd been walking around the side of his casa when he saw the figure and froze. A boy, around his age but smaller and far thinner. Even with the boy’s oversized shirt hanging over his chest, it was clear to see that he was painfully underweight.

 Phil froze and the boy’s gaze shot up, but he didn't run. He just stared at Phil through hungry, hollow eyes. One hand on the rim of the trash can, the other on a bag that had once held rice, but now was uncomfortably empty.

 They held eye contact for longer than perhaps they should've. Two boys, the same age— they may have even gone to school together— both slowly losing pounds and hope. Except Phil still had food. And this boy didn't.

 “You can look in there if you want,” Phil offered, not sure what to say, “But I don't think you'll find anything.”

 A silent nod.

 Phil took a step forwards, his feet unsure where to go. Then, he turned, stiffly walking back the way he'd came.

---

 “It hurts a lot,” Dan groaned, clutching the spot on his rib cage with both hands. “Bruises never bothered me much, but this one sucks.”

 The patch where he’d been hit was dark red and puffy, shaped like the side of a canister of tear gas. He held his shirt up so he could see it, but didn’t take it off. Moving his arms above his head hurt too much.

 “You'll be fine,” Phil promised, barely paying Dan any attention. He went over to his closet, stripping his shirt and quickly replacing it with a black one that didn't reek of tear gas. “It's just a bruise. I doubt anything was even broken.”

 Dan looked at his feet, still cradling the injury mournfully. “That's not what you're supposed to say.”

 Phil unbuckled his pants, pulling them down. “Oh yeah? What am I supposed to say?”

 Dan was a stranger in the room, tapping his feet and trying not to look at Phil, trying to keep his face from turning pink. “You're supposed to say… ‘let me see’ or ‘I'm sorry you're hurt’ or something. You're supposed to… I don't know.”

 “I'm supposed to care?” Phil offered, pulling up a fresh pair of jeans and zipping them, turning to Dan with arms crossed. “Do you want me to pity you?”

 “No.” Yes. “I just want you to… I don't know.”

 “Validate you?”

 “No, just-”

 “Promise it'll all get better?” Phil walked over, looking down at Dan. His tone reeked of mockery. “Do you want me to kiss it better?”

 “Yes, actually!” Dan allowed himself to look up, and immediately regretted it. He was met with angry Phil, annoyed Phil, the side of Phil that yes, existed, but hardly saw the sun. It was Phil’s human side. And Dan didn't want to see him like that.

 Dan lowered his voice, not giving in to the temptation to let his eyes sink back to the floor. There is something about being yelled at by the one you love that makes you want to back into a corner and die. “I want you to kiss it better,” Dan narrated. “I want you to make me feel better. I want you to… to…”

 “Pity you?” Crossed arms, scowl, anger.

 “Yes!” Dan let go of the bruise, throwing up his hands in frustration. He winced, pulling his arms back down. “I want you to pity me! I want you to coo over me and promise that everything's fine and everything will be alright!”

 Phil's gaze clouded over. “I can't promise you that.”

 Dan was on his feet before he'd even processed the words. “Then lie!”

 “I can't! I don't want to!”

 “Just play the game!” Dan yelled, his cheeks reddening. “Play the fucking game Phil, just play it. Do it, just play the game.” His voice cracked. “Just… just… Phil, I'm hurt.”

 “I’m going to take a shower.” The other boy’s eyes were somewhere else, somewhere far away. “You should go home.”

 And there was that sinking feeling, the sharp blunt force of impact. Dan could almost feel his chest recoil inwards, and his breathing become more painful, like the true effect of the bruising was just hitting him. “I-”

 “I want to forget,” Phil admitted. “I don’t want to deal with anything else right now. Just… just want to go to sleep.”

 Every breath made Dan’s chest ache miserably. He needed comfort, needed some sort of something but he didn’t know what and didn’t know how to ask. But when he looked up at Phil, he could see the silent pleading.

 “Talk tomorrow?” He offered quietly, twisting the hem of his shirt in his hands. He was still in his clothes from the protest. He shouldn’t have sat on Phil’s bed, now the sheets were going to smell like tear gas.

 Phil nodded weakly. His body sagged with exhaustion against the corner of the door.

 Dan got up, ignoring the way it hurt to breath and to stand and to walk and to move and walked over to Phil, pressing a small kiss to his jaw. “Feel better.”

 Phil’s mouth formed words but no sound came out, a mix of you too I’m sorry I don’t want you to go but I have to take a break playing on his lips like Dan had pressed his mute button and Phil’d forgotten where the volume controls were.  

 Dan turned to leave. And he really, really was going to leave, and they would talk it over on the morning or maybe just pretend it never happened because this didn’t have to be a big deal. Dan respected Phil. He respected Phil’s needs. And if Phil needed to forget about it, then Dan could let him.

 But Dan didn’t get the chance to.

 The older boy’s gaze softened and he hung his head. “Wait.”

 Dan stopped midstep.

 There was a long sigh. “Okay.”

 “Okay?” Dan pretended his face wasn't bright pink with emotion. He didn’t look up, didn’t want Phil to see how desperate he was. Desperate for validation, desperate for affection, and desperate for something else, something that Phil couldn't give him. Safety.

 “Take your shirt off, and I’ll take a look at it. Here, I’ll help you.”

 So Dan allowed himself to be babied, sitting limply on the bed with the door closed once more, and let Phil pull his shirt off. The bruise was on his right side, low on his rib cage. It was the size of a person’s palm, and the color of dark pink tulips and vomit.

 “I’m sorry.” Dan muttered, trying to cover the bruise with his arms. “I’m being stupid.”

 “Maybe just a little.” Phil gently reached out and touched the bruise, tracing the side of it with a feather touch. Dan refused to look at him. He was being stupid, he was being weak, he couldn’t act like this-

 “How does it feel?”

  Like a weight being pressed against my chest trying to push until my rib cage snaps in two-

 “It doesn’t hurt that much.” Dan almost believed himself. “Does it look bad?”

 “No,” Phil lied easily. “No, it's not bad at all.”

 Dan allowed Phil to push his bent arm up a little ways, exposing the full mark. Dan still covered his other rib cage, and tried to cover his stomach. It looked bad. He could feel the indents, the sharpness of his bones underneath.

 Phil pressed his full hand against the mark, almost completely covering it. Dan bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

 “Will I get better?” He asked, trying to distract himself. He didn’t look at Phil or at the mark, instead training his eyes on the opposite wall.

 “Yeah, you'll get better. Give it a day, and it won't even hurt anymore.”

 “I want to be weak,” Dan admitted, still not looked over. He felt his rib cage rise and fall with each breath. “Can I be weak? Just for a few minutes?”

 Phil nodded. His expression was one of calm, one of the people playing the violins on the Titanic as it sunk. Eerie calm, gentle rhythm, a reassuring presence as the ship tilted towards the moon and the last lifeboat was released into the water, crowds of people still onboard. Dan had heard that the band has kept playing until they drowned. That’s what Phil’s expression reminded him of.

 Dan nodded his head. He stared down at the ugly red mark, eyes red. “Will everything be okay?”

 “What do you mean?”

 It wasn’t a question you should have to clarify.

 “Will everything…. will it be okay? Will we have to fight again?”

 “No, we won't have to fight.”

 “For how long?”

 Dan’s voice was edged with anxiety, a little higher pitched than normal. Phil touched the edges of the mark with a feather touch. “Not for a long time. Not for the rest of the night. Tomorrow doesn't have to come.”

 Dan nodded meekly. Phil reached up, and brushed his thumbs under the boy's eyes. “Let's just… go to bed. Get you out of these clothes, I think the tear gas is still making your eyes water.”

 They both knew it wasn't the tear gas. But they also both knew that neither wanted to admit the truth.

 The night was a good one for lies. They lay in bed, shirts discarded on the floor, and whispered promises to each other that they knew they couldn't keep.

—-

 The next morning, there was water so Dan took advantage of it and took a shower. He didn't plan on taking a long one anyways, but as soon as he turned it on dirty lukewarm water drained out, at a lower pressure than normal. The water was an unsettling shade of murky brown.

 He rushed to wash himself, trying to use minimal soap and be careful around more sensitive parts. The water stung the scratches he'd been accumulating during the protests, and he wondered vaguely if it was even safe. Maybe it'd give him an infection, or if he drank it he would be poisoned. Maybe it was carrying some sort of disease, or STD. Maybe, after everything Dan had been through, he'd die from AIDS.

 He tried to wash his hair, but moving his arms above his head hurt too much. The bruising was still red, but was turning a more purplish color. Dan held his fingers against it, pressing slightly. Even that little bit of pressure hurt.

 After his shower, Dan towelled off and stood in front of the mirror, just letting the remaining water drip off. He felt very empty— empty stomach, empty mind. The boy who stared back at him in the mirror had dark circles. Dan wanted to tell him to get more sleep, but he knew that the circles weren't because of sleep.

 His arms, which never had much hair on them, now had a soft layer of hair covering them. Wispy little blond strands, like peach fuzz, but on his arms. The rest of his body seemed to have a little more hair too, as if trying to make up for the loss in mass with hair.

 Dan tried not to stare at his arms, his stomach. He had wrapped the towel around his waist, but that meant his entire torso was bare. He'd lost weight, that was undeniable. Dan's skin was a size too big.

 Dark circles; messy, wet hair; peach fuzz; rib bones.

 Dan went to his room and got dressed. He put on a shirt, one that had fit perfectly a few weeks ago, but now was too big. Digging through his drawer, Dan yanked out a different shirt, one that hopefully wouldn't be too hot, and tied it around his waist underneath the other shirt, trying to give himself a little more mass. If he blurred his eyes and didn’t look too closely, it almost worked.

 He tore off the second shirt, dumping it on the floor and leaving it there.

---

 Two boney boys sat on a balcony, repeating a conversation they'd had many times before with different answers each time. There was no anger, no resentment. Neither had a mind for drama nor a desire for it. As far as they cared, the previous night didn’t even happen.

 “What do you want to do when you grow up?” Dan asked. He'd asked the same question three years ago. And three years before that.

 “An astronaut,” Phil answered, without thinking about it.

 Dan laughed lightly. It hurt. “Spaceboy Phil, I like it. I want to be the President of Australia.”

 “Dan, Australia’s a continent, not a country.”

 “Isn't it both?” Dan shook his head, waving the question away, “Whatever. I want to be its president.”

 “Do you want to have kids someday?”

 Three years ago, Phil had asked Someday, do you want to have kids? Slightly different, but the difference doesn't matter.

 “Yes.” Three years ago: Probably.  “You?”

 “Yeah, eventually. If I can.”

 Dan laid down, looking up at the sky. “Do you ever think you'll get married?”

 “Yes.”

 “But not here,” Dan clarified.

 “Not here,” Phil agreed. “We’ll run away to America.”

 “America sucks,” Dan argued. “We’ll go somewhere a little bit more chill. London, maybe.”

 This caused Phil to laugh. “London? Why would we go to London?”

 He shrugged. “Why not? I've heard that anyone can get married there, even raging homosexuals.”

 Phil grinned. “Raging homosexuals? Is that…” he lowered his voice, aware that even as their words were concealed from prying ears by a language barrier, there were still people who could hear them and understand the meaning. “Is that what we are?”

 “Yes. Horrible, miserable, raging homosexuals. I should put that in my tumblr bio.”

--- Two Weeks Later

"Hey look! It’s the quitter!" A boy's voice called out in Spanish.

 Dan laughed, walking over to where the sound originated from. "I’m so offended," he joked. "Speaking of which, how's those fifty essays going for you? I wasn’t sure if I’d see you here, thought you might have jumped off a bridge by now."

 Mateo laughed, standing and clutching Dan's hand and pulling him into a bro hug. "No, not quite yet. But who knows? The semester's still young."

 Phil grinned. "You have Martinez?"

 Mateo and Phil clutched hands, bro hugging. "Nah, transferred out of her class. Decided I wanted to keep my sanity."

 They sat down, the rest of the people in the casual circle on the grass scooting back to make room for the two boys.

 Phil looked around, a little wistfully. He’d graduated uni only a few years ago, but it felt like forever. He’d graduated earlier than a lot of his friends, who were still in their last few years. If Dan hadn't quit, he’d be in their year.

 They talked for a while, not having seen their friends for too long. They only talked about the light stuff- school, work, things they’d heard and things they’d done. They didn’t talk about the lines outside the supermarkets, or the protests that were becoming more and more common.

 They didn’t talk about how their clothes didn’t fit like they used to.

 Mateo was about three shades darker than Dan, and about six shades darker than Phil. He had short, black hair and a loud laugh that reminded Dan of the good days of university- the lunch conversations, video game tournaments, and parties that ended a few hours before class started. Law had sucked, but uni overall wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

 Phil crawled over to Mateo, showing him something on his phone. Dan almost snorted out loud. Phil was one of the few people he knew who had light colored skin. Instead of tanning, Phil just got really freckly. Normally, Dan hardly noticed, but when Phil sat next to someone like Mateo the difference was obvious, and honestly, a little comical.

 Mateo made a joke, and Phil giggled, sticking his tongue out between his teeth. Dan hadn’t heard the joke, but he had to do his best not to laugh along. Phil smiled so widely, he practically radiated light.

 "Earth to Dan." A hand waved in front of Dan's face, and he blinked, making himself look away from Phil.

Another one of their old friends, Dalia, smirked. "Tired?"

 "Zoned out."

 "Daydream?"

 Dan bit his lip, smiling slyly. "Maybe."

 Dalia nodded, as if she’d known. "Who about?"

 "My one true love."

 "Phil?"

 Dan laughed, shoving her lightly. "Yeah yeah, real funny. No, I wasn’t daydreaming about my friend, I was dreaming about my one true love. Pizza."

 Dalia's eyes brightened. "Seriously?"

 "Yeah," Dan lied. "What about it?"

 "Mateo!” She called out, excited. "Dan, tell him what you told me!"

 Dan leaned back, rolling his eyes but still smiling lightly. "I was daydreaming about pizza," he mused. "Sue me."

 Mateo mirrored Dalia's expressions: surprise, then disbelief, then excitement. Then annoyance. "Dali! You told him?"

 "No! I thought we said it was supposed to be a surprise!"

 Phil raised his eyebrows. "A surprise?"

 The other two exchanged glances. "Should we tell him?" Dahlia asked, switching to English.

 "Tell them what?" Phil asked, switching to English too.

 "Is it a secret?" Dan joked, amused that they forgot he and Phil spoke English fluently as well. "I love secrets!"

 Mateo rolled his eyes playfully, switching back to Spanish. "Dalia ordered a pizza for us to share. It was supposed to be a surprise, but-"

 "A pizza?" Dan interrupted. He may have lied about daydreaming about pizza, but he definitely craved it. "You’re not shitting me?"

 "Not shitting you," Dalia promised. "I just wanted to do something special for you guys, you know?"

—-

 They were all talking when the pizza came.

 Every since they’d brought it up, it’d been hard to think about anything else, but they still managed somehow. That morning, Dan had wanted to take a shower, but the water had been shut off. He’d been left feeling smelly and gross, thinking that everything was just getting worse, and then- pizza.

 Dan was the first one to spot it. One of Dalia's friends was carrying it towards them, other students hanging out in front of the campus parting in front of her, looking at it longingly. Dan hardly noticed; he was too focused.

 The conversation in their group died down, all of them just watching.

 It was only a medium pizza, and there were at least six of them, but it still felt amazing. Everyone had been eating smaller and smaller meals, and Dan's family had managed to continue eating three meals a day, but at the cost of them being far smaller than normal. One piece of pizza was more than Dan had been eating normally for lunch.

 For a few minutes, that ever constant tug of hunger seemed to almost disappear.

 It was time to go. A bell sounded, and Dan and Phil's friends started packing up, hefting their backpacks for their next classes.

“Burguesa,” someone grunted, purposefully knocking into Dalia. /Rich girl/.

—-

 People peeled off of the side streets, wearing painted shirts and tennis shoes, motorcycle helmets and baseball hats, chests covered in cardboard or carpet armor, or left bare. The sounds of marching filled the air. No talking. Just marching.

 Some people had clearly protested before. They bore the evidence of the pain, the evidence of the ill preparation. Their faces were hidden with gas masks or just t-shirts in attempt to hide their identity. They carried homemade shields and slingshots, carried bags of ammunition. Bruises contrasted against tanned skin, against freckled skin. Somewhere in the background, a violin played.

 Phil’s only comfort was Dan, marching beside him. Since their first protest, they’d become more prepared. Dan had made a shield out of a large rectangle of wood, some rope, and some paint. It was small enough to carry without too much difficulty, but large enough that they could both just crouch behind it. Painted on it were the words ‘Libertadores, Resistencia De Venezuela’, which translated to Liberators, Resistance of Venezuela. It too bore the evidence of the previous protest: centered around the word Libertadores were six tiny holes were a round of buckshot had been fired at them, and had instead implanted themselves in the shield. Phil had seen the injuries buckshot caused. Needless to say, he was thankful for the shield.

 Dan held the shield around his left arm, and he carried it with a sense of pride. Dan's mouth was covered with an dark blue shirt, in part to help hide his identity, and part to help protect him from the tear gas. Phil on the other hand, had a real gas mask, left over from when his dad painted part of their house when he was twelve. The paint had had a horrible toxic stench that made Phil want to cover his nose and hold his breath. Still, compared to the reek of tear gas, that old paint smelled like fresh baked bread.

 Phil’s fingers twitched against the slingshot in his hand. He'd made it yesterday out of a piece of a fallen tree branch, and a rubber band. It was pretty rudimentary, but it would work far better than just throwing rocks.

 Slung across his back was Phil’s old school bag. Inside it were pebbles and stones for the slingshot, and a few other tricks Phil had planned for the guardias.

 Phil felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the people who had obviously never protested before. Unarmed, unprotected, unaware of what was to come. He wanted to warn them. He wanted to tell them to go home, home to the dirty water and power outages and starvation, but at least they wouldn't be shot at. But he stayed silent. As much as he hated it, this was a numbers game, and he couldn't turn away anyone who wanted to help to make their voices heard in this world of suppression.

 They turned onto a Main Street, merging with another group. Signs were hosted in the air. “¡Li-ber-tad!” Dan yelled out beside Phil. “¡Li-ber-tad!”

 Phil's throat felt like sawdust. “¡Li-ber-tad!”

 The chant spread throughout the crowd. The lower part of Dan’s face was still covered by the bandana, but Phil could still see the way Dan crinkled his eyebrows, the anger in his eyes.

 Shields moved with the chant. “¡Li-ber-tad!¡Li-ber-tad!” Feet pounded against the pavement, signs pulsating above heads. The crowd was one person- one strong, angry person, who was going to make a change- no matter the cost.

 They marched for a long time, going down the streets to one of the main roads of Caracas. “¡Li-ber-tad!¡Li-ber-tad!”

 Some people ran away. Some people joined their ranks.

 “¡Li-ber-tad!¡Li-ber-tad!”

 Amongst the protesters, Dan was one of the loudest. He stood firm, and with every chant he called out the government for all their wrongdoings. He called out the guardias, called out the policías, called out the colectivos and everyone else the government hired to make their lives miserable. With each chant, Dan called out Maduro himself.

Libertad. Liberty.   ---

 After they got to the main roads, it wasn't long for guardias to show up.

 Armored cars pulled up, stopping a safe distance away. Some of the protestors stopped, unsure, but the rest of the crowd pushed on. Dan’s eyes were trained on one of the cars, his expression one of hatred.

  Guardias formed ranks and marched forward towards the crowd. “Get your slingshot ready,” Dan mumbled, not looking away. “And the rocks. Phil, get the rocks ready.” Dan brushed against Phil casually, reminding him of his presence. “We're going to take down these mamawebos.”

 Phil kept marching as he unzipped his backpack, his slingshot still clutched in hand. It felt sticky; his hands had been clammy since they stepped into the crowd. A rock was held against the rubber bands.

 The guardias marched forwards, in real ranks. Clear riot shields were locked together. The soldiers had protective vests and helmets, standard olive green uniforms, and army grade boots. They carried guns.

 Phil gripped his slingshot tighter.

 “Rain hell on them!” Someone called out, and the protestors scooped up stones from the pavement and hefted whatever defenses they’d brought, and fired. Phil yanked back the rubber band of his slingshot and released it, quickly pulling more rocks from his back and firing again and again, the rocks being flung into the ranks of soldiers with far more force than he could have managed by merely throwing them. Next to him, Dan grabbed whatever he found on the ground- some rocks, some trash- and threw them with his whole body, grunting with each one. The guardias were pelted, like they'd stepped into a dangerous hail storm that wasn't forecast.

 More rocks. More guardias, getting in line, bracing themselves against the avalanche of stone. The protesters got louder, singing a song of screaming accusations. People who were tired starving. People tired of watching family members die. People tired, just tired, and done with standing still and taking it.

 They surged forwards, yelling as they physically shoved the police backwards, bodies thrown against riot shields, forcing them to take small steps back. Dan’s shield was thrust against one of the police’s, and they pushed against each other, fighting for dominance, narrowed eyes locked. Phil didn't hear anything, just saw everyone in silent, slow motion. The protesters, their angry, starving mob, was winning.

 BANG!

 A scream. Not of anger, but of pain.

  BANG! BANG!

 “¡Asesino!” Dan called out, accusing the guard in front of him who he fought against. “¡Hijo e’ puta!”

Murderer! Motherfucker!

 More gunshots went off. Screams, yelps of pain. Phil pulled the rocks back like he was an archer, letting the rocks fly up into the air and fall amongst the guardias.

 People ran away. People ran away. But many stuck with the crowd, some already brandishing new wounds.

 Dan won his fight of shields against the guard and shoved him backwards, causing a small domino effect of soldiers, and Dan laughed, Dan laughed as people surged forwards into the opening, catching some soldiers on their unprotected side.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

 A rubber bullet bounced off the shoulder of Dan's shield, narrowly missing him.

 A round of orders came from somewhere inside the police lines, and they all started pushing forwards, roughly shoving protesters back. Cans of something were thrown into the crowd, and Phil looked back just in time to see white smoke hiss up. People called out to each other, yelling and screaming and then coughing.

 More rounds of rubber bullets, closer. A woman next to Phil screamed, stumbling backwards. “Dan!” He called out rushing, towards him. “Pull back!”

 “Mamawebos!” Dan screamed. Cock-suckers! Phil grabbed onto his arm, pulling his away from the guardias ready to fire on him. “¡Coño e’ madre, malparío!” Your mother’s a whore and you were born wrong! A can pouring white gas was hurled at them, landing on ground and bouncing to hit Dan’s shield. “My grandma can throw better than you, and she's dead!”

 Phil grabbed the can spilling tear gas and chucked it back into the soldier's lines, already feeling his eyes stinging. It made his throat sting like he’d just inhaled a mixture of ash and pure bug spray. He grabbed Dan's arm, not gently, and pulled him forcefully away. They ran back, hurrying to duck behind a parked car.

 Dan's eyes were trained on Phil’s with the same intensity as he'd been sending the soldiers. “Las molotov.”

 Phil nodded, unzipping his backpack and pulling the old beer bottles out, handing two to Dan, followed by a handheld cigarette lighter. The guardias held their place, not stupid enough to push forwards into the mob they'd just tear gassed. Everyone had retreated from the front, but still the soldiers were pelted with rocks and trash. The noise was deafening, shouting and coughing and the constant explosions of guns. Rubber bullets- probably not deadly, but horribly painful. The protesters threw round after round of debris into the ranks, but the tear gas was spreading, dissolving the people in white smoke.

 Phil shook the beer bottle around, the liquid sloshing inside. A rag was stuffed in the top which he lit ablaze, throwing it into the ranks of soldiers. It exploded, glass shrapnel piercing their uniforms, fire lapping at their heels. The lines of soldiers began to disassemble, moving away to make themselves less easy targets.

 “Dan, get your- Ah!” Phil stumbled forwards, falling next to Dan.

 “What's wrong?!”

 A sharp pain spread through Phil's body- originating from his leg. “Something- something bit me!”

 Dan knelt next to him, examining the wound hurriedly. “You've been shot.” His hands splayed across Phil's thigh, and Phil gasped in pain.

 “A normal bullet?” Phil asked desperately, trying to move his leg. Even the smallest movement sent pain shooting up his leg.

 Dan’s face was grim. “I can't tell. Too much blood. We have to get you out of here.”

 With some difficulty, Dan helped Phil stand, and they limped away, Phil leaning heavily on Dan's shoulder. People ran past them, and their eyes watered with the residue of tear gas. The sound of bullets rang through the air, but they just kept walking.

 Dan had abandoned his shield, so they ducked behind cars and tried not to look like targets as they scrambled away.

 After twenty minutes of walking, Phil requested a break. “I can't… I just…” he was struggling for breath.

 “We’re far enough away,” Dan decided. “Take your mask off, maybe that'll help.” Dan tore the tshirt covering his lower face off, stuffing it in Phil’s bag. He leaned down. “Let me.”

 Phil tried to stay still, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. “You going to be fine,” Dan mumbled comfortingly. “Everything’s-”

 “What are you doing?” Someone accused in Spanish.

 Dan jumped back, shoving the gas mask in his bag and tossing it on Phil's injured leg, making him lurch. “Just talking. Is everything alright?”

 A man glared at them, the dark blue uniform making it clear who he was. A pair of handcuffs dangled by his side. “There's a protest happening a few kilometers away. Were you coming from there?”

 “No,” Dan said, eyes wide. “A protest?” He looked at Phil. “Did you know about that?”

 Phil shook his head, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. The bag covered up his bleeding, but it was heavy, and when Dan tossed it onto his leg he'd wanted to pass out from pain.

 “Yeah, we were just heading to a friend's house.”

 The officer didn't say anything for a moment, and Phil wondered if he'd bleed to death before he answered. “Well then stop fucking loitering,” he barked. “And I don’t know what you were doing just now, but it looked like you were about to kiss.”

 Phil managed a strained smile, and Dan laughed loudly. “I think my girlfriend would have an issue with that.”

 The policeman made an expression almost like a smile. No, not a smile- a sneer. “Good. There’s already too many faggots in this country, and I need to save ammunition for protesters. Now get moving, nothing good will come from hanging around here.”

 They nodded, pained smiles plastered across their faces.

 The police waited.

 “Come on D-” Phil started, quickly cutting himself off before revealing Dan’s identity. “Let's go.” Phil stood, holding the backpack over his injury and doing his best not to limp.

They walked slowly away, not touching as the police watched them leave. Turning a corner, Phil collapsed against the wall. “Shit!”

 “Phil!? What's wrong?”

 He breathed heavily, spots dancing in his vision. “Get out your shirt from my backpack.” Dan did as he was told, fumbling with the bag. “Tie it around my leg.”

 Dan looked up, looking worried. “Like a tourniquet?”

 “No Dan, I want to keep my leg.” Phil said, struggling to speak through the pain. “Just… enough so that no one sees. And to put pressure on it! Pressure’s good.”

 Dan did it, kneeling in front of Phil and tying the shirt around the boy's upper thigh. If the police were able to come over, he'd definitely have some questions for them- and not just about the injury.

 The rest of the walk home was a painful eternity. Phil limped the whole way, leaning heavily on Dan, but by the time they got to Phil's house, they were both completely exhausted and drenched in sweat.

 Coming inside, they collapsed on the couch, Dan falling on top of Phil with exhaustion, careful to avoid his leg.

 “What-” Martín started, and Dan quickly got off of his boyfriend.

 “First aid kit. Phil got shot.”

 By the time Martín came back, Dan had already taken the shirt wrapped around Phil's leg off. “It's still bleeding. Why is it still bleeding?”

 “Did you walk back?” Martín asked, trying to conceal his concern. He knelt by the couch, unzipping the overly simple kit.

 “Yeah,” Phil muttered, struggling to get enough breath. “Not that far.”

 “You're drenched in sweat.”

 “Not that far,” Phil repeated. He closed his eyes, then stared up at the ceiling. “Fuck.”

 Martín and Dan exchanged a look. Phil didn't swear, ever.

 “We need to wash the blood away,” Dan decided. “Is the water-”

 “It's turned off,” Martín supplied. “But we have a tank.”

 “Hashtag the 1%,” Dan muttered. “Is the water cleanish?”

 Martín shook his head. “Bring him to the tub, we have some water bottles.” He glanced at Phil's leg again, before forcing himself to look away.

 “How bad is it?” Phil muttered, refusing to look.

 Dan was shaking slightly. “On a scale of paper cut to shark bite? Like, a paper cut.”

 “You're a horrible liar.” Phil groaned as Dan helped him stand, limping heavily as they made their way to the bathroom.

 Dan helped him sit on the edge of the tub, stretching his leg out and balancing it on the other side.

 Martín came over and together, the two boys rinsed away the blood. To see the full wound, they had to wriggle Phil’s jeans off of him, which was as difficult as it was painful. But finally, they had a clear view of the injury, and Dan was able to let out a sigh of relief. “The bullet missed you. Skimmed the side of your leg, but missed you.”

---

 “You could’ve died.”

 They’d had this conversation before.

 Phil stared up at the ceiling. “I know. You could've too, we were standing right next to each other.”

 “Yeah, but you're the one that got hit.”

 “You were the one egging the /guardias on. I'm surprised they didn't aim for you.”

 “Of course they aimed for me, they were aiming at all of us, you spork. But you know that wasn't a guardia.”

 Phil sighed, closing his eyes. “I know. But at least I caused some havoc with them, makes me feel like I at least got a few good shots in.”

 Dan snorted. “Yeah, maybe.”

---

 There was a cemetery a few miles away from Dan’s home. It was huge, and even with everything going on, the cemetery remained untouched. People had better things to do late that Wednesday morning, so it was empty too. Empty besides the two boys who walked along its paths, talking and laughing quietly, as to not disturb the peace.

 It had long enough since the protest that Phil could walk without feeling much pain. Or at least, he didn’t limp or complain. But at that point, even Dan was tired of complaining.

 Phil wore a backpack over his shoulders, stuffed full of something. Dan didn't ask what was inside, instead, allowed himself to get his hopes up. A five course meal. A chocolate cake. Plane tickets that would fly them to the middle of the ocean and drop them off there.

 Dan was always the optimistic one.

 The cemetery was so big and so empty that before long they were holding hands, in public. It was so dangerous, so potentially destructive— but they'd done a lot of dangerous, destructive things in the past few weeks, so it felt natural.

 Dan imagined it was a park. It wasn't hard, what with the green grass and well-arranged trees. The sun was out, but it still managed to be just warm enough as to be comfortable, not too hot. If you ignored the grave markers, it was easy to pretend they were a normal couple, having a stroll in a normal park, on a perfect, sunny, normal day. Sometimes, normal was one of the greatest blessings you could have.

 A cluster of bushes and trees made a perfect resting spot. It was concealed enough that even if they turned out not to be alone, the likelihood of being spotted was greatly decreased.

 Dan was at a point where a part of him wanted them to be caught. Take that, Maduro, he thought smugly. I'm a protester, AND I'm gay! Suck it!

 Somehow, he thought that wouldn't help much of anything. But it was nice to imagine.

 From his backpack, Phil produced a thin sheet, laying it on the ground.

 “Things are getting steamy in the cemetery,” Dan commented blandly.

 Phil— always the smarter one of the duo— wisely chose to ignore him. “It's a picnic blanket. And I brought food.”

 He pulled out a big reusable water bottles— filled with clear water, God bless his soul— and two cans: “Technically one for each of us, but I thought we could share.” Phil reached into his bag and grabbed one last thing, keeping it hidden from Dan for a moment longer as Phil assessed his features. “Dan, I'm going to take this out and set it on the blanket. Promise you won't jump me?”

 Dan promised, and Phil pulled out a jar of Nutella.

  And there was that chocolate cake Dan had wanted.

 “Fucking hell Phil.”

 They stared at the jar sat between them, wondering if it was real. Could it be a hallucination? Or was it really—

 “I found it in my sock drawer,” Phil confessed, his cheeks heating up, “From literally years ago. It's probably disgusting, but—”

 “Phil, it could be from the 19th century and I'd still lick it clean,” Dan interrupted, his eyes trained hungrily on the small container. How long had it been since he'd had chocolate?

 Phil produced two spoons, and they hurriedly opened it, finding that it was blessedly still half full.

 “I might go back on my promise,” Dan decided, eying it hungrily, “I might have to kill you for this.”

 “A ‘thank you’ would suffice.”

 Dan scooped his spoon in the mixture, staring at it like it was molten gold, “What did I do to deserve this?”

 Once again, Phil blushed, smiling shyly, “Happy anniversary.”

 Dan put the spoon in his mouth, and closed his eyes in pleasure, savoring the delectable flavor. “Fuck,” His eyes fluttered open, wide with amazement, “I'm actually going to have to propose.”

 Phil laughed, and oh God Dan missed that sound. “I'm going to make you. You know it's serious when I'm willing to share chocolate with you.”

 Phil dipped his spoon in the Nutella too, and quickly ate it, moaning almost comically before covering his mouth in embarrassment, “Sorry! I just didn't think it'd be so good!”

 They allowed themselves a few more spoonfuls of the rich chocolate before forcing themselves to close it and save the rest for later. Next, Phil opened up the cans and gave one to Dan, “One for each of us, but they're both different so we can share.”

  Dan took a closer look at the labels, slightly peeling off. His can was of mixed vegetables, and Phil's was peaches, “Where'd you get these?”

  “Martín has been bringing some stuff home lately. I don't know where he got it from, but I begged him to let me have them.”

 “He's crazy,” Dan commented, diving in. Cold corn had never tasted so good, “Fuck. This is how I'm going to have to propose: with Nutella and cold corn.”

 “Sounds perfect.”

---

 The protests went on whether or not Dan and Phil were apart of it.

 Phil's old university professor had sent him an email, requesting to meet up with him. So Phil went, leaving early and walking the few miles to get to the building. When there, he flashed his ID and was allowed in.

 “Felipe Lester, it's good to see you!” The professor announced excitedly when she saw him, speaking rapid fire Spanish. “How long ago did you graduate?”

 “Two years, Profesora,” Phil beamed. “It feels like longer though.”

 “Doesn't it always? Do you have a job?”

 Phil shook his head. “I worked for a small tv station for a little while, but they went under. Right now I'm just helping out, you know?”

 The professor gave Phil a subtle once over, her brow creasing with worry, but she quickly hid it. She glanced around, making sure no one was eavesdropping, then switched to English. “You’ve been protesting?” It was supposed to be a question, but judging from the intensity of her eyes, it was more of a statement. Phil had no choice but to nod, also switching to English.

 “Yeah. I just can't stand to be idle. Have to help out, you know?”

 She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “It's too dangerous. People are dying Felipe, and I won't stand to let you be one of them.” She looked around again, looking more worried this time. “Listen. You remember Caterina Hernandez, my assistant teacher?” Phil nodded. “She disappeared a few weeks ago. No one knows exactly what happened but… well, she had a big mouth. And she had money. I can only think, with the gang activity-” she scowled, cutting herself off. “She's gone, and I've been tasked with finding another assistant. I'm supposed to find one with experience, but I'd rather help out someone I know. You were a good student, Felipe. And I see you've held onto your English. If you want it, the job is yours.”

 Phil felt a little dizzy. “When would I start?”

 “As soon as you decide you want it. You'd be needed weekdays, from seven to five, but school is only from eight to four so sometimes you'd be able to leave early.”

 “I'll think about it.”

 The profesora eyed him warningly. “Don't think too long. It's a good offer, the best one you'll get. I need to fill the spot soon, and I can assure you that if you don't want it, there are plenty of people who'd gladly take your place.”

---

 Dinner was quiet that night. They were eating black beans and rice, and the three of them ate quietly, ignoring how small their bowls were and just savoring the taste of food, because that would be it until breakfast the next day.

 “I went to the university today,” Phil spoke in Spanish, trying to be calm about it.

 His mother and Martín looked up. “That sounds nice. Did you get to see your old teachers?”

 “I talked to Profesora Martinez.” He paused, chewing. “She said there's a job opening.”

 His mom dropped her spoon, clattering against the bowl. “What? How much?”

 “I don't know. Didn't ask.”

 “This is great Felipe! I'm so proud, when do you start?”

 So Phil filled them in on the basic details, answering their excited questions about when it starts, how much he'll be working, how often he'd be paid. In truth, they seemed more excited about it than he did.

 When dinner ended and he went back to his room, Phil realized that they hadn't asked him what the job actually was. He supposed they were just so excited by the prospect of a job, of more money, maybe of having a little bit more rice and beans to eat and a little bit more to live on that it didn't matter what the job was, just that it was a job.

 Phil pulled on his tennis shoes, dirty from protesting, and walked back through the house and out the door.

---

 “A job? Nojodás.” Dan's eyes were wide, and Phil could practically see the gears turn in his head. “How much?”

 “I don't know, didn't ask. I’d be working at the university, for Profesora Martinez, my old linguistics teacher. She says they wanted someone with experience, but she wanted to offer me the job first. She was glad I was still fluent in English.”

 “Thank you tumblr!” Dan looked to the ceiling, as if David Karp himself was looking down on them from heaven. “You told her you'd take it?”

 “Told her I'd think about it.”

 “Idiota, here, use my computer, email her now. Don't let this opportunity slip through your fingers, you-”

 “Dan, chill!” Phil laughed, accepting the laptop Dan all but shoved down his throat. “I want to take the job. But… it means that I won't be able to protest anymore.”

 Dan watched him, his gaze steely. “You dumb motherfucker, no way in-” this part Phil censored out- “-are you going to not take a job because of protesting.”

 “I said I'm going to take the job!” Phil threw his hands up, exasperated. “But what about you?”

 “What about me?”

 “What will you do?”

 “I'll be protesting, you cuchara. We'll be the ultimate power couple- while you make bank, I'll be making the world a better place.”

 “You'll be egging on the guardias to shoot you,” Phil corrected. “Only I won't be there to drag you home.”

 “I don't need you to drag me home! I'll be fine Phil, just accept the job!” Dan shoved Phil back lightly, pushing against the computer purposefully. “I have a shield, I have the armor crap, and it's not just me protesting! And last I remember, you were the one to get shot, not me.”

 Phil set the laptop on the bed, crossing his arms. The wound on his thigh, now scarred over and not hurting much anymore, ached with the reminder. “And if you get shot? What then?”

 “I won't!”

 “And if you do?”

 “Someone else can help me. Other protestors, people in the area, I'll make fucking Maduro himself scoop me up like a baby and carry me home. I'll figure it out!”

 Phil cringed slightly at the curse. “Other people can protest, Daníel.”

 “I don't fucking care-”

 “You should,” Phil cut him off breathily, stepping forwards. “You should care. It's not safe to protest on your own.” Dan bit his lip, holding back more accusations. “You can't go alone.”

 “I can. And I will.” Dan stared at Phil, his voice solid, unyielding. “I'm going to keep protesting, no matter if you're there, no matter if anyone's there. If everyone gives up, I will keep protesting because I refuse to sit idle and starve to death.”

 “You won't starve,” Phil offered weakly. “I'll be getting more money. If you need it, I can take care of you.”

 Dan sniffled. He stepped closer, and brushed aside Phil’s fringe affectionately, with an expression that Phil couldn't quite decipher, until it hit him. Dan was being brave. “An what if that's not enough? Phil…. Phil, I love you, but you can't tell me that your job as an assistant to a university teacher will be enough. Inflation is up 200%. And it's just going to keep rising unless we do something.”

 Phil wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry. He wanted to turn around and start walking, walking across the city to the coast and keep walking, walk over the Atlantic Ocean and walk all the way to London. But he didn't do any of those. “I love you too.”

 Dan lowered his eyes. “I'm going to keep protesting.”

 “Don't. If you love me, don't go without me.”

 “If you love me, don't give me ultimatums,” Dan snapped. “You’re accepting the job?”

 “Yeah.”

 “Then fucking tell her.” He picked up the laptop from the bed, shoving it into Phil’s arms. “You know the password?”

 Phil swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced himself to move, laying on the bed on his stomach and opening the laptop. “Yeah.” He began typing, opening up his email and writing the letter accepting the job.

 Dan lay on the bed next to him, rolling over to be on his side. “You're making the right choice.” He reached over, playing with the hem of Phil’s shirt absently. “You'd be stupid to let this offer pass you by.”

 “I never wanted to teach,” Phil grumbled.

 “I never wanted to get hit by a can of tear gas, but look where we are now. Make sure to thank her for the job, too.” Dan's voice raised an octave, watching the words appear on the screen as Phil typed. “Thank her. Make sure she knows you're serious.”

 “‘Kay,” Phil muttered.

 “And-”

 “Let me finish writing this, okay?”

 Dan shut up immediately, watching silently. He twisted the hem of Phil’s shirt tightly, then released it, bunching it up in a ball.

 Finally, Phil sent the email and closed the laptop. He looked straight ahead, avoiding looking at Dan.

 “I'm sorry,” the boy murmured. “I'm sorry you don't want to be a teacher.”

 Phil stayed quiet.

 “And I'm sorry I'm going to protest. Actually- no, I'm not sorry for that. But I'm sorry you don't want me too.”

 “You're impossible,” Phil muttered. “Absolutely impossible.”

 “And I'm sorry we have to fight. And I'm sorry for being an asshole.”

 “You done yet?”

 “Almost. I'm also sorry for upsetting you.” Dan scooted forwards, sitting up slightly so he could lean closer and kiss Phil’s neck.

 “I'm tired.” Phil announced, not pushing Dan away.

 “Just kissing?” Dan suggested.

 Phil hummed, squeezing his eyes closed at the feeling. “Just kissing.”

----

Three Months Later

 Phil was almost to the university, his backpack over his shoulder. As a teaching assistant, he was supposed to wear nice clothes, but he was currently dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a tshirt, with clothes to change into in his bag. He'd learned the hard way to change into good clothes after getting to school- wearing nice clothes made him look like he had money, thus making him much more attractive to gangs, or anyone desperate enough to jump him. He'd learned that the hard way.

  Dan opened the door, his smile immediately falling when he saw Phil. His jacket was gone, and right under his left eye his cheek was bruised.

 “Are you kidding me. You literally went to school today, and you look even worse than I do.”

 Since then, Phil had made sure not to wear the nicer looking clothes when walking.

 He liked walking, but it made his mom nervous. But she could hardly complain, especially since each week he gave her most of his paycheck, 235.000 bolívares, the equivalent of about 10 U.S. Dollars after inflation. Phil kept the rest of the money, only 15.000 bolívares, in a jar under his bed, labeled “London Fund”.

 Dan had kept protesting, though not as often as he had when Phil still went with him. Sometimes, on the weekends, they’d go together. Phil still supported the cause, he just didn't like Dan going on his own. Dan had managed to stay out of too much trouble, but he hadn't gotten away unscathed.

 They liked to spend time together at one of their houses after each protest, even if it was uneventful. They shared stories of their day while Phil pretended he wasn't examining Dan for injuries. Dan's current weapon of choice was Molotov cocktails and lighters, which resulted in long burn marks going up and down his arms. The first aid kit at Dan’s house was even sparser than the one at Phil’s house, but it had a little bit of a burn salve in it. When Phil applied it to the worst burns, he had to hold a hand over Dan’s mouth because of how loud he moaned in relief. “The neighbors will hear!” He warned. If he doesn't shut up, the United States will hear, he thought.

 Dan also got a lot of little cuts and scrapes from the protests, but Phil liked skinned knees much more than he liked bullet wounds.

 Both of Dan’s parents worked, though Phil didn't know how many jobs. He'd had his job for less than a month when one of Dan’s friends hooked Dan up with a job at a Juanta’s, the old restaurant that had been converted into a corner store, but it was only part time. Still, it gave Dan’s family a little extra cash, and gave Dan something to do all day besides dare the guardias to shoot him.

 About a month later, they were at Phil’s house- doing some things they were definitely not supposed to- when Phil put his hand on Dan’s stomach and could feel it growl. “Hungry?” He teased, trying to be gentle.

 “Ever since 2013,” Dan played along, though his tone wasn't as humorous. “Phil, keep going.”

 But Phil didn't. “It's after dinner, shouldn't you be good for-”

 “Skipped dinner. Whole family did. Our day to get groceries is Thursday, but when we got there it was closed. ‘Workers holiday’ or some shit. Now please, keep going-”

 Phil’s eyes widened, and he quickly got up, leaving Dan whining, even though they both still had their jeans on. “When was the last time you ate?”

 “Breakfast.”

 Phil strode over to the nightstand, where a small alarm clock sat. “It's eight pm.”

 “Oh.”

 “Stay here.” Before Dan could protest, Phil was out of the room, the door closed behind him.

 Martín was sitting in the living room, writing something, but he looked up when Phil came in. “What's up?”

 “Nothing,” Phil said impatiently, hurrying over to the fridge.

 “Why aren't you wearing a shirt?”

 Phil looked down. Crap. “Too hot.”

 “Is Dan in your room?”

 “It's too warm in there,” Phil defended, going through the refrigerator. “I think I might be sick,” he added, trying to help his brother come to a different conclusion than the truth. Phil grabbed a closed container and a fork and hurried back to his room before Martín could ask anymore questions.

 As soon as Dan saw it, he recoiled. “No. I refuse.”

 “Dan-”

 “Red. Red. Red. Fucking- red, no Phil, put it back, I refuse to take any of your family’s food-”

 Phil sat casually on the bed, putting the food in front of him. “Can you shut up, for like, five seconds?” Dan did as told, but he was still uncomfortably tense, looking at the food like it was poisoned. “It's not my family's food,” Phil reasoned, “it's my food. For lunch tomorrow. But it's okay, I'll skip.”

 “Like hell you will.”

 “What'd you have for breakfast?” Dan was silent. “Come on. Dan, what'd you have for breakfast.”

 “Oatmeal.”

 Phil’s stomach twisted in a knot. “Yeah, you're eating this. It's just more rice and beans, and you know my mom adds those spices you like.”

 Dan crossed his arms. “I one hundred percent refuse.”

 “You're not depriving me of anything. Trust me, I get enough to eat.”

 “Bullshit.”

 “We can call it your birthday present.”

 “My birthday’s in June.”

 “Then it's your Christmas present! Dan, I swear, if needed I will hold you down and force feed you.”

 Dan held his crossed arms tighter against his body. “No. I’ll jump out the window first.”

 “You're the most stubborn person I've ever met.”

 Dan flashed a cocky smile. “It's one of my better qualities-”

 Before Dan could finish his sentence, Phil had tackled him. He'd tried to tackle him on the bed, but unfortunately, Phil never had great aim, and they went spiraling onto the ground. It was a short tussle- as big as Dan talked, Phil was stronger, and Dan was weakened from lack of food. “Red!” Dan announced, though he was more annoyed than upset. “Red! Dammit Phil, why do we have a safeword if you don't even respect it?”

 “That's when it comes to… other things,” Phil decided, proud he'd managed to pin Dan down. “This is about your well being.” He reached onto the bed to get the lunch.

 “Why do we even have a safeword to begin with?” Dan wondered aloud, the amount he was talking directly proportional with his nerves. “It's not like we do anything crazy. I'd like to think that if I tell you to stop, you'd respect it.”

 Phil ignored him, uncapping the container. “Can you feed yourself, or will I have to?”

 Dan glared up at him, raising an eyebrow.

 “How did I end up with someone so stubborn?”

 “How did I end up with someone who so blatantly ignores my boundaries?” Dan mused. “What’s the point of a safeword if you don't respect it when I use it? Honestly Phil, let's never get involved with BDSM, you'd be horrible at-”

 Phil leant down, and pecked him on the lips, effectively shutting him up. “Done?”

 “You think I could ever be done? Phil, the matter of consent is very important. I could go on for hours just talking about safewords alone, much less-”

 “I love you,” Phil decided, and once more Dan was lost for words. “And I care about you. And you need to eat. Please?”

 About ten minutes later, they were back sitting against the headboard. Dan licked the fork clean. “Thanks for that Phil. You're right, those spices your mom adds really tastes good. What's her secret?”

 Phil, who looked like he'd just fought some wild animal, just sighed. “Adobo. Like, half a container of Adobo.”

——

 Dan had gotten approximately four hours of sleep. That meant that he needed approximately five more hours of sleep. But instead of being in bed, for some reason, he found himself in an ungodly long line at an ungodly hour of the morning, in ungodly rain.

 "Come on Dan, let’s play I-spy," Phil suggested, far too excited.

 Dan grunted, not bothering to respond. He pulled his hood closer around his face, trying to scoot impossibly closer to the wall. He was insistent that the closer you are to a building, the less wet you got. It wasn’t working. But he wasn’t going to stop.

 "You know, I actually like the rain," Phil decided. "It’s exciting. And it smells good. I like it better when I’m inside, but this actually isn’t that bad. It’s so early in the morning, it kind of makes it cool, you know, like-"

 "Phil," Dan cut off, hardly able to listen to another word. "Please. It’s 6 in the morning."

 "Actually, we’ve been waiting for a while," Phil corrected helpfully. "So it’s probably closer to 7."

 "I’m going to take a nap," Dan decided, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. "Right here. Get my groceries for me, will you?"

 Phil scowled. "No. You said that this would be fun."

 "I also said it’d be quick. You should know by now that I’m full of shit."

 Phil smiled lightly. He leant against the wall next to Dan, bumping into him playfully. "Are you going to come with me to get my groceries on Friday?"

 Dan groaned, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Can’t Martín?”

 Phil stopped bumping against him, letting their shoulders rest together. He sighed, relaxing against the wall. “He's busy. And mom and dad both work early.”

 Dan tilted his head up, accidentally getting a face full of rain. He spluttered, wiping it away. They looked over, moving up in line. It had only been an hour, and the front was already in sight. The line was moving faster than normal.

 They leant back up against the wall, Dan resting his head on Phil’s shoulder.

 Phil tensed. “Dan,” he mumbled under his breath in English. “We have to be a little more… discreet.”

 Dan whined. “Fuck that.” He nestled his face into Phil’s neck, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

 When they got to the front of the line, Phil was made to wait outside while Dan went in. He looked at the smudged list on his arm, and did his best to find and grab everything. The shelves, once full, were painfully bare. It was a good day; he found most of the food on the list. But there was no rice to be seen.

 Dan's stomach growled. They were out of rice last week too. He'd never liked rice all that much, but it could be eaten practically anything, and when mixed with beans made one serving go a long way.

 He got in line to pay, and after another wait, finally got to the counter, slinging his backpack off of his shoulder and pulling out his ID. “No rice?” He asked in Spanish.

 “We usually get shipments on Saturdays.” The cashier answered, tapping on the keys of the register.

 Dan slumped. His ID number ended in one, which meant he could only go shopping on Mondays. It was part of the rationing, a last ditch effort to try and keep everyone from starving. Clearly, it didn't work all that well.

 “That'll cost 184 bolivares,” the cashier announced, looking at Dan expectantly.

 He cursed under his breath, looking at the life preserving items and trying to decide which were expendable. “How much were the beans?”

 “62 per packet”.

 “They were 56 last week!”

 The cashier was not amused. “Are you getting them or not?”

 “Not.” Dan pulled out the money from his bag, starting to count it. A year ago, it was enough to buy food for a week. Now, it was hardly enough for a handful of groceries.

 “Here, give it to me.” Dan handed over the money, and she put it on a scale, weighing it. “New system. Quicker to weigh than to count.”

----

 Dan going to protests alone meant that if he got hurt, Phil had no way of helping him or even knowing that he was injured unless he physically saw him. Dan went to the protests knowing he could be shot, knowing he could be injured, and knowing that the hospitals couldn't help him. The shortages meant they received no new shipments of supplies or medicine, and at this point, the hospitals could do very little. Better to die at home.

 People died in the protests. Dan could easily be one of them. And every time Phil saw him, he had to accept that it may be the last time.

 Ever since Phil got the teachers assistant job, Dan had been searching for more work. His paycheck from Juanta's just went down as inflation went up. In the end, he found two other jobs, one on Saturdays at a market, and another translating things to English for a small company. Even with three jobs, the money was barely enough. His padres both worked full days, his father getting home late every night, and still they were barely scraping by.

 Phil had hoped that with Dan working more, he wouldn't have time for protests anymore, but Dan insisted he'd still be going a few times a week. "They have enough time to screw us over, I can make some time to return the favor," he'd say.

 Phil had to be okay with it. Dan was miserably stubborn, and he made it clear that he was going to the protests, and Phil was allowed not to like it, but he wasn't allowed to refuse it.

 And Phil had almost accepted it.

 He was working late at school the night that Dan got shot.

 There were too many assignments to grade, then it took too long to change into street clothes and too long to walk home. When he got home, it was already time for dinner, so Phil ate. Both Dan and Phil's families were down to two meals a day, but Phil's were considerably more. Then, finally, finally he was able to walk over to Dan's casa, smiling at the thought of seeing him after such a long day. They could watch a movie, or if the electricity was back up, just scroll through Tumblr together.

 Dan's younger brother opened the door, hollow eyes wide. "He's at Doña Gloria’s," he answered before Phil could speak. "You should hurry."

 Immediately, Phil turned and ran, heart beating in his ears. Doña Gloria was a retired nurse who, too old to work, had taken in the sick and wounded in exchange for small offerings of food and money, whatever the family could manage. You brought family members to her if they were in dire condition, but still had a chance of being saved.

 Phil burst in the door without knocking, eyes scanning the floor. The entire house reeked of blood and vomit and death, but he still gasped for air, trying desperately to find Dan. Half dead bodies were draped across the ground, some groaning in agony, some still, too still. But no Dan.

 Phil leaped over them, running through the short hall and glancing in the rooms with open doors, only finding more and more of the same. People from the protests, people from the streets, people dying of sickness that there was medicine for, just not here.

 He sprinted from the hallway and slammed into a small woman. "¡Con permiso! Disculpe, perdón. Solo estoy buscando a mi amigo,” he blurted out without taking a breath. Sorry! Sorry, excuse me, I'm just trying to find my friend.

 "¿El de la bala en la pierna? Está en el patio, por aquí, apúrate." The one with the bullet in his leg? He's on the patio, this way, hurry.

 Phil didn't know what was wrong with Dan, but he went where she pointed without question. Tearing through the doorway, he ran to the wooden picnic table where he found Dan laying, his chest rising too slowly, too shakily.

 His parents were at his side, both his mom and dad, though Phil didn't know how they managed to contact him. Doña Gloria tended to his leg, wiping at it with a bath towel from Dan's house. A piece of cloth was tied around his thigh higher up, holding pressure over the wound to decrease the blood flow.

 Dan was drenched in sweat. His skin was pasty and pale, and his overly curled hair was pressed away from his forehead.

 When Phil came into view, Dan's eyes fluttered. "Took you long enough," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "I've been here forever. Tell me, how does it look?"

 Phil swallowed, trying to bite back the tears that were threatening to appear. He looked at the injury. It was in a similar spot as his own bullet wound, even the same leg. But he'd been barely nicked by that bullet- this one had fully punctured Dan's leg. The wound was drenched in dark red blood.

 "It's barely a paper cut," Phil promised, willing his voice not to break. "I can hardly see it. You don't even need to be here, just need to.... suck it up, buttercup."

 Dan snorted, smiling widely up at Phil with the same drugged expression. There was no way he'd had painkillers, too difficult to find. No, it was the pain itself that drugged him.

 Dan gestured Phil closer, and then grabbed his collar, pulling him down slowly. Phil was worried he wanted a kiss, which would be the worst thing to do right now with others watching, but instead he pulled Phil close to whisper in his ear, "Now we'll have matching scars. Isn't that nice?" His eyes glinted with painful irony.

 The Doña stood straight, and immediately everyone looked at her, waiting for her verdict. "The bullet's still in there. I'll have to take it out." She looked at Dan with sympathy. "It will hurt a lot. Usually I don't recommend this, but if you feel like you might pass out, do it. It'll make it hurt less."

 Dan tried to look calm. Phil pretended he didn’t see the wild flicker of fear in his eyes.  "Okay."

 Doña Gloria glanced over to the open doorway calling for someone. Another woman hurried out, with the same facial features as the Doña, but about thirty years younger. She went over to the other side of her mother, and held Dan’s legs down at the ankles. “You hold his legs down up there. He might kick, but just hold him in place.”

 Phil did as he was told, leaning over Dan and holding his legs down.

 Dan watched Phil as the woman got out a pair of long tweezers, wiping at the wound again with a towel. His smile was gone.

  Phil adjusted so he was leaning on Dan’s legs with one arm, and he reached out with his other arm, clasping onto his hand. His hand was clammy but he held tight. They stared at each other without words as she started.

 Phil could feel when she plunged the tweezers into the wound because Dan's breathing caught and he cut off the circulation in Phil's hand.

 Phil could feel the tears fall from his eyes, his lips quiver. Dan looked up at him with the same plain but determined expression. "Stop it," he commanded. Phil shook his head, unable to stop crying. "I said stop it. Stop crying."

 Phil's voice broke into a sob. "I can't." He shook his head, his vision blurry from tears. "I can't. I can't."

 Dan grabbed onto his arm with impossible strength, forcing him to stay still. "Listen here you little fucker, there's a woman digging around in my leg and it hurts like mother fucking shit, you hear me?" Dan's voice broke, and he coughed, clearing it. Then he continued, his voice a little higher than normal. "You can't cry. You're not allowed. Suck it up, look me in the eyes, and stop fucking crying, otherwise I'll have to bitch slap you in front of my parents, and neither of us wants that. But I'll do it, I'll fucking do it, you hear me? Hey, look at me."

 Phil wiped his eyes sloppily, trying to stop the tears. He managed to look down. Dan's eyes were glassy, but he wasn't crying. He wouldn't cry.

 Behind them, Phil could hear Dan's mother sob. He shook his head, sniffed, and willed himself to stand taller.

 Dan looked at him with such intensity Phil wanted to look away, but couldn't. "It doesn't hurt," Dan promised. "I don't even feel it."

  Dan winced hard,squeezing his eyes shut for a split second. "Aha!" The old woman announced, apparently having gotten ahold of the bullet.

 Dan didn't look away. He forced himself to relax again, digging his nails into Phil's hand. "I don't even feel it," he repeated, as if reminding himself. "I don't even feel it."

----

 After the bullet was removed the wound was wrapped up tight, and Dan was warned to wait a while before moving much.

 Then Phil was forced to step back, and Dan's parents stepped forwards.

 Dan's mother was upset because Dan was hurt. Dan's father was upset because Dan was hurt in the protests.

 Their overall message was clear: Dan was forbidden from protesting anymore.

 And Dan rained hell on them. Dan was always generally respectful of them, and he never raised his voice against them, but when they told him he couldn't protest Dan lost it.

 He spoke so fast his words blurred together, an angry tirade of accusations and insults and refusal.

 "You can't go!" Dan's father commanded, enraged. "With your big mouth, it's a wonder you haven't been killed! I refuse to let you leave and to have your mother open the door one day to find that her son is dead! I refuse to let you do this to us!"

 "This isn't about you!" Dan shook with fury, his voice ringing with disgust. "This isn't about you or mom or me or any of us! Don't you see? I'm fighting for Venezuela, and I will keep going and keep fighting until things are fixed, I don't care what you have to say-"

 Dan's father stepped forwards and raised his hand, but before he could do anything Phil had grabbed him, shoving him back. "Don't you dare," he fumed. "Go. Dan needs to heal, he shouldn't be getting his heart rate up. Just go."

 The older man pushed Phil away, but didn't go to hit Dan. Instead, he caught the eye of Doña Gloría, who had come back outside, no doubt from the yelling. She nodded to the door.

 "Fine," his father relented, though he still looked furious. "But don't you dare go to another protest."

 He turned, and left.

 Dan's chest heaved as he watched him leave. "I'm going to go. I don't care what he says, the bastard."

 His mom stepped forwards. "Dan, he's still your father."

 "It's still my country!" He retorted immediately. "And you may be fine not doing anything, but I-"

 "Dan," Phil chided, harshly. "You were just shot. Calm down, we can figure it out later."

 "There's nothing left to figure out, I'm still going to-"

 "Red," Phil announced, switching to English. "Red. Shut up."

 Dan's mouth dropped open, but he quickly closed it again. He put his hands under his head, looking up at the wooden panels that during the day would provide shade, but during the night just blocked his view of the stars. "Fine. I'm shutting up."

 "Good." Phil turned to the Doña, changing the subject back to Dan's injury. "What else does Daníel need to do?" He asked, switching back to Spanish.

 The woman shrugged. "He shouldn't walk on it for at least a few days, longer if possible. And Daníel, stay out of the protests for a week or two after that. No need agitating it. I don't want to see you under these conditions again."

 Dan grunted and agreed. Despite all his big talk, Phil suspected he might be in more pain than he was letting on. Protesting should be the last thing he wanted to do right now.

 Dan's brother appeared a little later with a backpack over his shoulder. The Doña took it into her house, and brought it back a minute later emptied. Phil didn't know what was inside- whether it be food, money, or medicine- but he suspected a bit of each. The Howell's didn't have enough of any of the three to pay with only one.

 A few guys came over and offered to help Dan get home. Phil helped too, taking Dan's right shoulder. Dan's brother wanted to help, but they told him it wasn't needed. That wasn't necessarily true, but one look at the scrawny, twig-like boy with his hollow eyes and pasty skin, and it was clear he would be little help. Dan had lost weight less drastically. It was in a way that when you were looking for it, the change was obvious. But it had been so gradual that Phil had hardly bothered to notice. But as they lifted him, he was uncomfortably light. Phil could feel the bone of his shoulder sticking out sharply against his chest.

 They brought him out front, where the guy supporting Dan's uninjured leg set his foot down, and rushed to get his motorbike.

 "I'm going to get a bike like that," Dan decided, his forehead becoming sticky from sweat.

 "You said that in English," Phil reminded.

 "Fuck you. Me voy a comprar una moto así."

 Dan was loaded onto the back of the bike, his left leg hanging limply off the edge as he tried his best not to move it. The guy went around and got on in front of Dan, letting him wrap his arms around his waist.

 "Wish we'd gotten you a pretty girl to grind on instead," one of the guys joked lightheartedly. Dan managed to send them a quick wink before the engine started, and they revved off.

 Phil walked to Dan's house, it only taking a few minutes longer. He wasn't sure how Dan had managed to get from the protests to la casa de Doña Maria, but he could assume it was due to help from more friends. Friends were vital in times like this.

 ----

 "Don't say anything," Dan begged, hanging his head. "Please. I can't take any more of it."

 Phil shuffled in, closing the door behind him carefully. "I wasn't going to say anything. Just wondering if there's anything I can do to take the pain away."

 Dan looked up at him desperately, eyes red. "Can you get me drunk? I need a distraction from the pain."

 "I can get you drunk," Phil agreed, slightly hesitantly. He climbed on the bed, sitting with his legs crossed and leaning back on his hands. "I can get you so tipsy off of lukewarm water that you won't even be able to walk. Just say the word."

 Dan snorted. "We can't even afford alcohol. What is the world coming to?"

 Phil winced. "Well... Martín actually got some rum last week. Expensive stuff too, not even Carupano. I have no idea where from."

 Dan furrowed his eyebrows. "How does he keep getting stuff? The cans, the rum, the extra money. What do you think he's doing?"

 Phil didn't want to talk about it. But if it was distracting Dan from the pain, then maybe he had to stretch his comfort zone a little bit. "Well," he ventured, crawling over to sit next to Dan, taking his hand and fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly, "I might have an idea. But I don't like it."

 "He's a bank robber," Dan suggested, feigning ignorance when in reality, he had a decent idea of what might be up. "Or he's actually Maduro, and he's only been pretending to be your brother. I bet if you sneak into his room while he's asleep, you could see him without his skin mask."

 Now it was Phil's turn to snort. He smiled absently, tucking Dan's fingers into a fist and then untucking them, turning his hand over to examine his palm. "Yeah. Maybe."

 Dan nudged him, prodding him to go on. "I think he's involved with gangs." Phil struggled to get the words out, pinching Dan's palm softly. "He never would have before but... it's how he can best support the family. I think he feels like he has to do it, you know? And... I'm not just saying this because of the rum. The other day, he snuck in and his shirt had a bunch of blood on it. But later that night, he was walking around shirtless and he was fine. I... I don't really want to think about it."

 Dan sniffled. He stretched his leg out a little more, moving it cautiously. "I'm sorry."

 He leant his head against Phil's shoulder. Here, alone, without anyone to watch them or anyone to impress, Dan was very small. Out on the streets he could be Confident Dan, the one with the loud voice and the proud stance, the one who fought and fought and got hurt and then fought some more. But here, with the only person he could trust fully, Dan was able to show his other side. He was two boys in one, and this boy was small and unsure. The confident boy wasn't gone, he'd just been tucked away until he was needed to fight again. Confidence is armor, and Dan had to wear it often.

——-

"I’m actually annoyed," Dan grumbled. "You could’ve gotten me rum. Fuck lukewarm water, you could have gotten me actual, honest rum and you didn’t."

 "Dan-" Phil started, but Dan cut him off again.

 "Don’t Dan me. That’s it. I’m done."

 "What are you-"

 "I’m done!" Dan threw his hands up dramatically, his eyes still fluttering around the block party, landing on each bottle and shot glass individually. He licked his lips slightly, as if trying to taste the liquor already. "We can’t be best friends anymore," he said quieter, paying less and less attention to their conversation as he realized his surrounding were far more interesting.

 Phil put his hands on his hips, still very focused on the conversation. He was wearing a light colored baseball hat with a green rim, even though it had long since fallen dark. It was tilted slightly lopsidedly. "Why not?"

 "Because I was bleeding out and you didn’t get me booze! Phil, I was in serious pain! What kind of friend-"

 "You were not bleeding out. By the time you got home, you were hardly even bleeding."

 "I was in pain," he argued indignantly. "The least you could do-"

 "Oh, shut up already."

 The block party was in celebration of something- a birthday maybe? Dan wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t really care.

 It was already dark when they got there, and already it was beginning to get crowded with neighbors and friends. Cheap fairy lights were strung up around the balconies and along the tables, illuminating the brightly colored clothes and faces already lit up with joy. They’d been having to manage for too long. It was about time they got a break.

 Daníel and Felipe made a beeline for the drinks table, quickly downing their cups as soon as they got them. It was Carta Roja, the cheapest rum you could find. It came in a big bottle with a red label and cap, hence the name, which translated roughly to 'Red Letter'. It tasted like the smell of gasoline, and Dan’s face crinkled up slightly as he downed it, but the effect felt almost immediate. Around him, the salsa music seemed to get louder, the lights a little out of focus. It was probably just the placebo effect, but frankly, he didn’t care.

 The went around, socializing and getting more drinks. Dan could feel himself sway slightly to the beat of the music, not drunk enough that he lost his rhythm but just intoxicating enough that he couldn’t feel the pain his leg from two weeks ago. Slowly, he had completely tuned out the words of everyone else, completely entranced by the music.

 Salsa music is unlike others. It has a lot of Afro-Cuban influence, from African slaves working on cotton plantations in the Cuban heat. The music was focused on a central beat, a tempo that didn’t change throughout the song. The music was a mixture of the sound of bongos and a rhythmic tapping, half a dozen instruments mixing together to make a beat that you couldn’t help but sway to. There’d be some string instruments added, maybe a horn of some kind, and singing. You didn’t listen to the words, just to voices. Love and passion and sadness and dance. They sang in Spanish, but they could have been singing about various types of cheese and Dan wouldn’t know.

 He realized that the others were staring at him. Phil, and Dalia, and a few other friends who were now looking at him with a look in between a smirk and a smile.

 But Dan didn’t care. "Dalia?"

 She took his outstretched hand immediately, and Dan lead them over to the improvised dance floor: the stretch of dark gray pavement only wide enough for the motorbikes that came up that way sometimes.

 They danced easily. Salsa dancing was the type that went 1, 2, 3, pause, 5, 6, 7, pause. Step forewords, up, step back, and wait for a fraction of a moment. Then your feet start going again, this time back, up, forewords, pause. Then forwards up back pause, forwards up back pause, step open and step and close and pause and open step close pause and spin. Dan was almost as light on his feet as Dalia was, and they moved easily, Dan's hand on her hip, her hand on his shoulder, and their other hands intertwined together and held up to the side. Back step forwards wait forwards step back pause.

 "Look," Dalia nodded over Dan’s shoulder. They turned in a half circle, so Dan was able to see. Phil had gotten a partner too, a girl from his university. What was her name? Andy? Andrea?

 Phil had lived in Venezuela all his life, yet he still danced like someone who’d never heard music before. In Salsa, the man is supposed to lead, starting by stepping forwards, and in turn the woman steps back, creating an even rhythm. Instead, Phil shuffled an inch forwards and another inch back, his eyes trained on his feet as he managed to ignore both the pause and the extra step. The baseball cap and the looking at his feet completely obscured his expression, but Dan could imagine the mix of panic and concentration. If that wasn’t impressive enough, he also managed to step on Andrea's feet every other step. "¡Perdón!" he apologized quickly, just loud enough for Dan to hear a few paces away.

 "He never learned how to dance?" Dalia asked, trying to suppress her smile.

 "Let’s say that," Dan agreed. He twirled her, and they fell right back into rhythm, Dalia stepping back with her right foot as Dan stepped forwards with his left. Dan hesitated, watching as Phil stepped on Andrea's foot again, and she winced. "Would you mind if I-"

 "Oh no, please. I don’t think I can stand to watch this anymore."

 They let go of each other, and Dan went over, tapping on Andrea's shoulder. "Can I steal him for a moment? It’s time someone taught him how to dance."

 Andrea looked incredibly relieved, handing Phil off to Dan without a second look. She and Dalia looked around, but everyone else either already had a partner or were doing something else. Shrugging, they started dancing with each other. Andrea seemed to like this significantly better.

 Meanwhile, Dan placed Phil’s hand on his own hip, and set his hand on Phil’s shoulders. Their other hands intertwined. Phil's hand was sweaty.

 "What are you-"

 "I’m saving you," Dan explained, a little cocky. "And saving Andrea. She didn’t come here to have her feet tap danced over."

 Phil looked a little red, but it was hard to tell with the hat shadowing his face. "Yeah, okay. Let’s-"

 "Slow down," Dan advised, his voice going softer. "Stand up straight. Arm up... yeah, like that. Now we’ll start..." Phil took a step back, and Dan quickly corrected him, pulling him back to the starting position. "You’re the man. You step forwards, like you’re walking through a door."

 "But we're both men."

 "Yes, I am aware. But for teaching purposes, I can be a lady."

 "Lady door."

 "Please never say that again."

 Soon they almost had a rhythm. Dan was still leading more than he should, and they were having to count under their breaths in order to keep with the beat of the music. By that point, they’d been dancing for a full two songs and had a decent amount of sweat going.

 "You’re getting it," Dan whispered lowly in English, so only Phil could hear him. "See? It’s not all that bad." Phil had managed the basic steps, but was still lacking the hip movement. As you step forwards and back, your hips are supposed to sway, which was what Dan was doing, but Phil was still stiff. "Relax. Move your hips, like I’m doing."

 Phil looked down. He was definitely blushing. "Like, erm... like this?"

 He swayed a little extra. "Kind of. A little more though, and just centered around your hips, not the rest of your body."

 Phil tried, and improved a little. He was a little off rhythm, so Dan sped them up a little, adjusting back in time with the tempo.

 "1, 2, 3, pause, 5, 6, 7, pause. 1, 2, 3..."

 "I think people are staring," Phil whispered.

 "It’s just dance lessons," Dan argued, catching his eyes. "I’m doing a service to society. It’s not," he lowered his voice, "gay."

 "I don’t know if I agree with that."

 Dan looked over his shoulder, noting how some of the others were dancing. A few people gave them the side eye, but Dan didn’t know if that was because they were both boys, or if it was just because of Phil’s questionable skill.

 "Spin me," he decided.

 "What?!" There was true panic in his voice, like Dan had just suggested he eat a cockroach or they hold hands in public. Actually... they were already doing that last one.

 "On the eighth beat. You spin me, then we keep stepping. Ready... 6, 7..." he spun, landing and stepping forwards, colliding into Phil’s chest. "Sorry! That was my fault, forgot I’m supposed to be a girl."

 "Bitch same." Andrea said a few paces away. Dan had forgotten she spoke English, but they’d been in the same class in Uni. So that’s how he knew her.

 They tried to fall back in a rhythm, but Phil was a little out of it. While the alcohol made Dan a more confident dancer, it seemed to have done the exact opposite to Phil.

 Dan moved a little closer to try and help Phil keep his balance. He could smell the rum on his breath.

 Dan stumbled slightly, and accidentally knocked the hat off of Phil’s head and onto the ground. "Sorry!" He let go, leaning down to pick it up.

 "Are you okay?"

 For a moment, the alcohol seemed to wear off, and the bullet wound in Dan’s leg made itself known. But Dan managed a smile. "Fine. Just tripped." He lifted the hat up, but instead of giving it back to Phil he turned it around and put it on his own head backwards. "There. Now I can see your face." He moved back into their previous position, letting Phil hold him maybe a little closer than appropriate. As they started doing the steps again, Phil's gaze immediately went down to his feet, trying to get it right. "Hey," Dan warned, his voice soft. "Look at me, 'kay?"

"So if I’m dancing with a girl I should just stare at her the whole time?"

 "Nah. Protip: You can look over their shoulder instead of straight at their faces. That way, it isn’t just three minutes of... um, what’s it called? Contacto visual sostenido."

 "Sustained eye contact," Phil answered.

 "Yeah, that."

 Slowly, their conversation died out, and they continued to dance without speaking. Dan, wearing Phil’s hat, and Phil, staring at Dan even though he’d learned the trick about the shoulders. And they just danced, swaying back and forth, sweaty hands clasped together and bodies moving back and forth under the fairy lights.

 And that’s the story of how Dan and Phil managed to dance together, literally wearing each other’s clothes and standing so close they could feel each other’s breath, swaying and twirling and holding each other under the fairy lights, and no one batted an eye.

———-

 Wuilly Arteaga was 23 years old, studying medicine in the central university. He played the violin in the protests, sometimes folk tunes, sometimes the national anthem.

 The national anthem, “Gloria al Bravo Pueblo”, was intended to be played with a full band, an orchestra, trumpets, the whole nine yards. “Gloria al Bravo Pueblo” means Glory to the Brave People, and the lyrics tell of bravery and justice. When it’s played with the full band, it’s a tune that reeks of triumph, victory, and honor.

 Wuilly Arteaga would stand tall, draped in the colors of the flag. His chin rested on his violin, arms poised with the type of familiarity that you could only get from years of practice. He marched in protest, playing the national anthem with a triumphant look in his eyes, though the rest of his face was washed in concentration, jaw set with determination. Perhaps he saw everything going on around him. But perhaps he only heard the music.

 The lyrics of the national anthem drifted in the minds of everyone who heard, despite the fact that no one sang along to his lonely playing. Translated to English, they went:

Glory to the brave people which shook off the yoke, the Law respecting virtue and honour.

 Without the rest of the band playing, the music sounded eerie and beautiful. A familiar tune warped by emotion, full of life and love and empty at the same time.

Down with the chains! Cried out the Lord; and the poor man in his hovel for freedom implored. Upon this holy name trembled in fear the vile selfishness that had once triumphed.

 The music was a reminder of what Venezuela was supposed to be. Arteaga walked through the protest, sometimes alone, playing the music and letting the lyrics drift through the air, unspoken. He didn’t throw rocks, didn’t torment the guardias, just played his music.

Let's cry out aloud: Down with oppression! Faithful countrymen, your strength lies in your unity; and from the heavens the supreme Creator breathed a sublime spirit into the nation.

 And he was assaulted with blasts from water cannons, attacks and brutality from police and soldiers. He set a precedent for peaceful protest and they opened fire on him. He was imprisoned for two weeks. He was banned from protesting. They took his violin and destroyed it in front of him.

United by bonds made by heaven, all America exists as a Nation; and if tyranny raises its voice, follow the example given by Caracas. 

——

They meandered around, eyes flickering to the tv every few seconds as they waited for Tibisay Lucena, the president of the National Electoral Council, to make an appearance. It wasn’t mandatory viewing, but most people watched it anyways. Announcements like this were always released late at night, as if they were hoping that no one would stay up to watch it. This announcement in particular was a big one; they were announcing the fate of Venezuela.

 They were at Dan's house. His parents and younger brother were there too, and Martín. Phil’s whole family had been invited over, but his parents had decided they’d prefer not to make an event of the news.

 It was almost like a party. There was a tablecloth on the small coffee table, and fresh flowers in a vase. They drank peach Nestea that Martín had brought over. Phil sipped it, like he’d sip expensive liquor, or poison. It tasted like sunny afternoons sitting on the balcony and working up the nerve to kiss his boyfriend behind closed doors. It was bitterly sweet, sweeter than he remembered, sweeter than he would have liked.

Voting had just finished up. The voting decided whether the constitution would be rewritten in favor of a new government, a Constituent Assembly, in which the government took every corner of the country that they didn’t have control over, and seized it. Including the citizens, the citizens homes and property, the citizens bank accounts, etc. It also gave the government access to filtering the country’s internet access, or just to remove citizen access altogether. 'Constituent Assembly' was code for 'Dictatorship'.

 And it could happen. It all depended on the votes. Which, in a country that seldom experienced an election without voter fraud, was an issue.

 All conversation stopped in perfect unison as Tibisay Lucena came on camera, sitting behind a pedestal. Her wire rimmed glasses were pushed halfway up her nose, her hair grayer than it had been last time, her scowl tighter. Her words came out distorted and nasally, and she spoke in a voice that Dan had always mocked when he was a kid.

 She spoke of the things that had happened in the past few years, but they tasted a little sweeter coming from her mouth than they did in the living room. She didn’t mention the mistakes the government had made that resulted in their current situation, nor did she mention the huge protests who had been fighting in opposition to the new policies. She spoke dismissively of issues that had hardly touched her. Because she was sitting on her fancy chair, behind her fancy watch, and you could bet money that in the past few years of massive food shortages, she’d gained weight, not lost it.

 As she continued her speech, the truth began to wash over them like a sedative. It crawled up Phil's toes, icy fingers brushing past the scar from where the bullet scraped his thigh. It traveled up his body slowly, cold tendrils wrapping around his chest and daring him to breath.

  ...and with 8 million votes, the Constituent National Assembly will proceed...

 8 million votes, the exact number needed for it to be passed. It was too convenient.

She was still talking. But no one listened. When she finished speaking, there was a smattering of polite applause. In the small house on the side of the hill, they did not cheer. They just sat, eyes wide and faces pale.

 Everything they’d fought against… gone. A rigged vote had just determined their future. And they’d thought it was bad before.

  This is why they were protesting. This is why they were protesting. For the future of Venezuela, one that wasn’t a dictatorship. No, not a dictatorship per day, a communist society. It was the worst case scenario, and it had happened.

Someone turned off the tv. Or maybe it was a power cut. Or maybe it was all in Phil’s head, or maybe it was a bad dream, or maybe the Nestea was laced with drugs and all of this was a lie.

 They sat in silence. One minute, two minutes, twelve hours, thirty seconds.

 Without a word, Dan stood and left.

----

 Daníel Howell was loud.

 Daníel Howell was excited.

 Daníel Howell was a fighter.

 He was angry.

 He was happy.

 He was a storyteller.

 He was closeted.

 He was in love.

 And he was full of life.

 He was fun, and humorous, and ridiculous, and made bad innuendos and liked speaking in English because it made him feel like he had secrets to share. He marched the streets of Caracas with his shield held high and his chin held higher, chanting and screaming and calling injustice by name.

 He tied bandages too tight and got angry when Phil put himself in danger.

 He ate chocolate like it was the last thing he'd ever taste.

 And he laughed like he'd never laugh again.

 That was who Dan was. That was who Dan is- not the boy sitting on the roof, looking out at the city below him like he was looking into the depths of the ocean. There was no life left, just eye bags and slouched shoulders and brown eyes that saw nothing at all.

 Phil walked over, sitting next to him. Dan didn't move. His chest rose and fell slowly, like his lungs were working without his permission. Lights from the city reflected in his glassy eyes.

 Phil coughed quietly, and for the first time Dan realized he was no longer alone. His legs pulled close to his chest twitched, and he looked down and away, closing his eyes.

 Somewhere below them, someone was crying. Phil didn't know who it was, or if it was just one person. He didn't know if he cared anymore.

 Neither of them spoke.

 What happens now?

 Will we be okay?

 There were questions they wanted to ask, but that they didn't want the answers to. So they stayed silent.

 Phil got more comfortable on the rooftop, bending his knees to his chest. In the moonlight, Dan had lost all color. Closed eyes, gray skin, unmoving. He was skin and bones and warm breath and not much else.

 In the distance, someone was calling out orders in Spanish. Phil couldn't hear the words, only the gruffness of them, the anger in them. Not a guardia; it was a protester.

 People joined in, screaming and cheering different words that all morphed into the same meaning. We will not be silenced.

 A fire rose into the sky, cheering filling the streets.

  We will not be quiet.

  We will not be obedient.

  We will not be silenced.

 Next to Phil, Dan started sobbing. Eyes closed, silent sobs that made his whole body shake miserably. Phil worried he was too close to the edge.

  We will not be starved.

  We will not take it.

  We won't stop fighting.

  We will not be silenced.

 "Do you hear us, Maduro?" Someone screamed. "We're coming for you!"

 People cheered. Weapons were hoisted into the air, guns and wooden planks and bats and fire and stones and metal water bottles and dinner knives.

 The fire crackled loudly. Dan's cheeks were wet with tears. He didn't open his eyes. Phil wanted to close his eyes. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to see this. He wanted to close his eyes. He couldn't be here. He didn't close his eyes.

 More chanting. More screaming. Accusations. Tires screeching.

 "Oh Phil," Dan muttered, not looking at him. "What are we going to do?"

 Phil scooted over to Dan, his entire body trembling. Dan opened his eyes, watching him. I love you.

  I'm scared.

 Dan opened his arms, hugging him, pulling him closer. Phil's entire body shook, and so did Dan's, and so did the building and so did the earth. The entire world shook. Their entire world shook.

 "I don't know," Phil whispered, so quietly only Dan could hear.

  What's going to happen?

  What are we going to do?

 "I don't know."

  What now?

  What now?

 Phil sobbed into Dan's shoulder. "I don't know."

 And the sound of gunshots tore through the night.

Please let me know if you enjoyed it! In case you didn’t read the note at the beginning, this story was written as part of the Phandom Reverse Bang, with Artist @trashofdoom and Beta @axolotlpj. Check out the art here!

Fic Masterlist / Request A Fic 

The Other Story I Wrote For The Phandom Reverse Bang 

[kitcatbookmad]

Autumn/ Fall book tag!

The lovely @bvkspine tagged me to do this and since it’s fairly obvious I adore autumn and all that comes with, I was pretty thrilled.

1. In fall, the air is crisp and clear: name a book with a vivid setting!

Hmmmm, I might have to go with The Miseducation of Cameron Post, I adored the description of the setting, it made it read like a classic but less heavy than the some of the old-timey, woeful moors that we used to get...

2. Nature is beautiful… but also dying: name a book that is beautifully written, but also deals with a heavy topic like loss or grief

Navigating Early by Clare Vanderpool looks deeply into grief, acceptance and living in the moment. I loved how it was written and all of the interwoven pieces of story that kept coming up throughout.

3. Fall is back to school season: share a non-fiction book that taught you something new.

The Trouble With Women by Jacky Fleming is a satirical graphic novel which explores why women have been quashed throughout history and digs some women and their stories out of “The Dustbin of History”. It is funny and educational, all of the little stories accompanied by drawings, tying it all together so well!

4. In order to keep warm, it’s good to spend some time with the people we love: name a fictional family/household/friend-group that you’d like to be a part of.

It’s a toss up between living in the Burrow and meeting all the Weasleys etc, being a Marauder or being part of the Gangsey... Strong friendship groups are my JAM

5. The colourful leaves are piling up on the ground: show us a pile of fall-colored spines!

I am currently 150 miles away from my shelves so I might post that at a later time.... 

6. Fall is the perfect time for some storytelling by the fireside: share a book wherein somebody is telling a story.

Hour of the Bees by Lindsay Eagar has a sub-story that the grandfather is telling the main character, Carolina. I love this book a lot and though it’s for younger readers it is poetic and shares good life lessons along with a touch of magic.

7. The nights are getting darker: share a dark, creepy read.

I am not a great fan of anything dark or creepy to read and I honestly can’t come up with anything..... A book about literal darkness (at times) however, Stargazing for Beginners by Jenny McLachlan.

8. The days are getting colder: name a short, heartwarming read that could warm up somebody’s cold and rainy day.

I will always and forever suggest Dash and Lily’s Book of Dares, though it is more Christmassy.... A Quiet Kind of Thunder is short and also heartwarming, as well as You Know Me Well and You Are Here.

9. Fall (luckily, it’s my favourite season) returns every year: name an old favourite that you’d like to return to soon.

I can’t wait to re-read The Night Circus, I’ve seen so many people reading it at the moment, and it’s been long enough that I don’t remember the details, just the love I had for it.

10. Fall is the perfect time for cozy reading nights: share your favourite cozy reading “accessories”!

-The perfect playlist; calm, folky type things

-Many fluffy blankets and pillows

-Fairy lights and candles 

-Tea, coffee or hot chocolate, preferably in my favourite mug :)

-A huge ass jumper or cardigan

11. Spread the autumn appreciation and tag some people!

No pressure, but if you like the look of this, go for it! I tag @alesandrareads @readloveandlive @words-n-wanderlust @our-written-word and @booklover277 

[literatureandwit]

It’s Finally Fall Book Tag

Shoutout to @thelibraryofbabel​ for tagging me -- happy to have this excuse to avoid my reading for a solid 20 minutes.

1. In fall, the air is crisp and clear: Name a book with a vivid setting!

Hm. Honestly any book set in the Scottish Highlands always feels super visceral to me. Outlander, I suppose?

2. Nature is beautiful… but also dying: Name a book that is beautifully written, but also deals with a heavy topic like loss or grief.

I’ve actually been thinking about this whole literature about dying thing a lot lately. A small story: I went to my school’s annual Comparative Literature Symposium as a requirement for my CLT class and the one speaker said something that really stuck in my brain. It was along the lines of, but more eloquent than “All literature is coming to terms with dying, but that’s hard for an undergrad to see/feel/know” and it kind of stunned me. Anyway. Ishiguro’s Never Let Me Go is good one that wrecks me every time. 

3. Fall is back to school season: share a non-fiction book that taught you something new.

I love nonfiction -- in fact, I considered myself primarily a nonfiction reading kinda gal up until I realized I was just an all-around reading kinda gal. I’ve been reading Sara Ahmed’s Living a Feminist Life since the summer and it’s still rocking my world. She puts highly complex and even theoretical issues into such accessible language!! Her analogies are so helpful in visualizing the problems at the heart of institutions!! Also, her “feminist killjoy” concept is possibly my favorite way of thinking about feminism and myself. 

4. In order to keep warm, it’s good to spend some time with the people we love: name a fictional family/household/friend-group that you’d like to be a part of.

I...don’t know...This is bad. I’m always like “I could totally be a part of [insert fictional family here]!!” but now that I’m trying to think of one, my mind has gone completely blank. It’s early. Whatever. I’ll tell y’all later when I have a burst of remembrance. 

5. The colourful leaves are piling up on the ground: show us a pile of fall-colored spines!

This is the most recent book related photo I’ve taken so that’s what you get. *Insert shrug emoji here*

6. Fall is the perfect time for some storytelling by the fireside: share a book wherein somebody is telling a story.

I just had to read Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians for my theory class, which is told from the POV of the narrator. So that works. The whole book is his story. An interesting read, by the way. I can't say I “enjoyed” it but it was definitely intellectually intriguing. 

7. The nights are getting darker: share a dark, creepy read.

Frankenstein!! Yup. That’s all I got. 

8. The days are getting colder: name a short, heartwarming read that could warm up somebody’s cold and rainy day.

I don't really read heartwarming things, haha. Pride and Prejudice is always a good option for some “happily ever after” type stuff. Even just the 1995 BBC adaptation works in a pinch. 

9. Fall (luckily, it’s my favourite season) returns every year: name an old favourite that you’d like to return to soon.

Every Woolf ever. I’m tired of this “reading only for school” hell that I’m currently in. Soon, my friends, soon. The semester’s end looms near. 

10. Fall is the perfect time for cozy reading nights: share your favourite cozy reading “accessories”!

I feel like blankets, coffee, and an oversized sweater are all necessary for a good night of “cozy” reading. Also some intense choral music. 

11. Spread the autumn appreciation and tag some people!

I really have to get my act together and write a Moodle post, so I’ll tag people at a later date (if I remember...). But really anyone who sees this should take 30 minutes to reflect!! It’s nice! Healthy! Okay bye. 

[brittney-brutal]

Hi guys!

So recently I’ve gained more followers and I just want you to know that I appreciate each and every single one of you for coming with me on this crazy adventure.

I’ve had this blog for.... 9 years this August? I never thought it would have the impact that it does, and I never imagined anyone would care enough to follow.

So for all my followers, new and old, anonymous and known, here’s some of those famous “tumblr questions” so you guys can get to know me more. I also haven’t done any of these in YEARS so I’m actually excited to see the answers and compare them to my old ones.

My ask box is always open ❤️

1. What is your name and what does it mean?

- my name is Brittney and it simply means that my parents chose that name for me instead of Samantha or Jordyn like they wanted to.

2. How long have you known your best friend?

- well I have three, and I’ve known one since 2009, and I met the other two in 2017.

3. What position do you sleep in?

- uh, on my side/stomach with my one leg bent and the other under the pillow? You know, the “girl” position?

4. Were you in a clique in high school?

- LMAO yo I was the girl that wore pink/zebra Osiris skate hi-tops with black/white TIE DYE jeans. And band tees. I had a bracelet that I made from zebra DUCT TAPE. I was also in the top 10% of my graduating class, coming in at #77 with a 4.257 GPA. I was NERDY AND WEIRD. But I had friends from every clique.

5. Favorite high school teacher and why?

- I mean it’s been... 7 years since I graduated but I think it’s still Mrs. Nash. She was my astronomy teacher in 11th grade and then I also was her teaching assistant in 12th grade. She was so beautiful and sweet and the best mom to her kids.

6. Name a few places you’d want to travel to if money wasn’t the issue?

- Bora Bora, Germany, Australia, The Grand Canyon.

7. Did you or do you play any sports?

- I used to dance jazz and hip hop, I used to play soccer, I could do a mean jump rope routine in grade school. Was even part of a team lmao. Recently I’ve really wanted to learn how to skate again.

8. Things you find attractive?

- in general? Being able to hold a conversation and actually put forth enough effort. Street smarts. Knowing how to cook and take care of yourself. Knowing and setting and keeping boundaries. Nice eyes. Good sense of humor, the protective possessive type. Always considering my thoughts and feelings, even when I don’t seem to have any.

8. Where did you grow up?

- Sunny, humid, hot, sticky, rainy Florida. Born and raised unfortunately.

9. Do you have any embarrassing stories?

-FUCK THIS QUESTION. Yes. One time in 8th grade I had a crush on this guy named Erik. We were great friends and he was littleraly the biggest prankster around. So one day in science class we’re all taking a test and our teacher suddenly looks up and asks “do you hear that” and we start looking around and everyone starts to hear it and Erik asks me “what is that, is that you?” And to my ABSOLUTE FUCKING HORROR, my iPod started playing Sexy Can I by fucking Ray J DURING THE TEST. thankfully Erik took the blame so my life wasn’t completely ruined after that. I also got catfished by someone when I was....14-16. Eventually she came clean and we’ve spoken before here on tumblr. No hard feelings.

10. When is your birthday?

- January 28, 1996. I’m the ripe old age of 24 with arthritic bones and an ankle that cracks every few steps I take. I’m knocking on heavens door rn.

11. How many pillows do you sleep with?

- why is anyone asking this question lmao but I sleep with 9. I have a queen bed.

12. Name 5 things about your appearance

- I mean I have a whole page dedicated to my selfies so check that out I guess.

13. Favorite drink?

Alcoholic? Rum runners or bahama mama’s. Non alcoholic would probably be.... cherry coke or Mountain Dew code red.

14. Strange talent you have?

- I guess you could call it a talent in some aspects, but I have mockingbird syndrome where I can imitate just about anyone’s singing voice.

15. How did one of your friendships end?

- I found out I had feelings for her in high school and she was my best friend. I was in love with her like bro I was fucked up over this girl. I mean, let me clarify. At the time she was in the process of figuring out her identity and she was identifying as a male, and was really confident in that role. Her appearance changed drastically but her person never did, and I loved every bit of whoever they decided to be. Through three different name changes and back and forth pronoun changes. I loved this person. My first real hard love. We would walk around holding hands and if anyone knows me, I hate physical touch unless I’m dating you bc my trauma is fucking up my head, but I let them do that. Long story short we stopped talking, I moved away, I reached out years later and we started hanging out again. She changed. I say she because they had decided that they were in fact female, and that didn’t bother me, but something just felt extremely off. I went home one night and she texted me hoping to see me again and that scared me. It scared me and confused me bc my feelings were coming back after so long and I didn’t know what to do. So I didn’t do anything. Stopped answering the calls and the texts and the crying voicemails. I felt like shit for what I did and reached out again just recently a few months ago. Hoping to at the very least clear the air. I anon’ed her on here and she knew it was me, bc who else can’t let things go. So she basically said stop reaching out to me I hate you I don’t want you to talk to me ever again. So, I haven’t. And I miss her. But I deserve it.

16. Are you still figuring out who you are?

- Every single day. I am constantly changing and it’s so interesting that I’m not the person I was ten years ago. I’m not who I was three years ago. I’m not who I was when anything bad in my life happened, but yet I still hold onto it. I know my sexuality I’ve come to terms with it and I embrace it but I don’t make it obvious. I love who I am as a person and my core values and what is important to me at the end of the day.

17. Favorite restaurant?

- Cheesecake Factory.

18. Favorite pizza?

- fun fact I hated pizza before I got pregnant with my son, and now I LOVE it. I’ll crave pizza even still. I love pepperoni, green pepper, mushroom, pineapple, and crushed red pepper with a stuffed cheese crust. Ooh with the garlic sauce from papa johns.

19. Do you collect anything?

- knives. I used to collect snow globes when I was younger but my innocence has died and now I’m emo as fuck.

20. Biggest lesson you’ve learned the hard way?

- Your pride will get in the way every single time.

21. Your favorite band?

- A Day to Remember

22. What are your top three favorite albums?

- Voicenotes by Charlie Puth, I listened to this album on repeat my entire pregnancy. It means a lot to me.

- Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight by Travis Scott, I know every single word to every single song. It got me through one of the worst breakups from the most toxic relationship I’ve had back in 2016.

- What Separates Me From You by A Day to Remember, the cover art is what I’m basing my next tattoo off of.

23. What’s your dream car?

- Chevrolet Camaro SS. Hyper Metallic Blue with black carbon fiber accents. All black interior.

24. What’s your sign and do you believe in astrology?

- I’m an Aquarius, my moon is Taurus and my ascendant sign is Gemini. I read my horoscope often but I don’t base my every move off of what it says y’know?

25. Where do you go or what do you do when you’re sad?

- I like to drive. I drive at night and I play my music and I allow myself to feel whatever I want. Driving clears my head and it lets me think about things I usually push away. If I’m feeling really bad I’ll drive to the beach and sit by the water and just watch the sunset by myself and watch people live their lives and think about when I was happy.

That turned out much longer than I wanted it to be but there’s 25 things about me that you now know.

[toast-connoisseur]

All the weird asks

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans? -I love coffee mugs, tea cups, and wine glasses even though I don’t drink any of those drinks lol

2. chocolate bars or lollipops? -Chocolate bars!

3. bubblegum or cotton candy? -Cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? -“a pleasure to have in class” of course!

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups? -Nothing beats bottled soda from Mexico!

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear? -I guess I’m a bit of goth and tomboy mixed? I don’t think any of these really describe me, I’m more into the retro/rockabilly style.

7. earbuds or headphones? -Earbuds for the most part.

8. movies or tv shows? -Movies!

9. favorite smell in the summer? -Chlorine in pool water.

10. game you were best at in p.e.? -The “soy down and chit chat” we’d play on a rainy day indoors.

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day? -Egg and a slice of toast!

12. name of your favorite playlist? -I made my best friend a “From Hot Girl Summer to Thotumn” and it’s pretty lit.

13. lanyard or key ring? -Both? Lanyards are cool though.

14. favorite non-chocolate candy? -Anything with tamarindo!

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? -Rosemary’s Baby although i technically got to pick it for my assignment.

16. most comfortable position to sit in? -I switch a lot because of my back pain but I usually like when my legs are raised.

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes? -My chucks!

18. ideal weather? -Sunny with a slight breeze so it’s not hot.

19. sleeping position? -Half on my side. I sleep odd because I want to sleep on my stomach but my boobs won’t let me.

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)? -Post it’s and laptop!

21. obsession from childhood? -Stickersss

22. role model? -Dita Von Teese

23. strange habits? -I tend to chew on the side of my tongue while I concentrate. I’ve been told it makes me look stupid.

24. favorite crystal? -Green Aventurine

25. first song you remember hearing? -Something by Shakira probably

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather? -Beach!

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather? -Cuddle up and watch movies!

28. five songs to describe you? -Dancing Queen (ABBA), Don’t Stop Me Now (Queen), Flawless Remix (Beyoncé ft. Nicki Minaj), Kiss My Sass (Cobra Starship), and Act Up (City Girls)

29. best way to bond with you? -Tell me a secret and I’ll tell you one of mine

30. places that you find sacred? -None now tbh

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? -Uhh a band shirt and leggings? Idk lmao

32. top five favorite vines? -How? I’d have to write all the lines down or hunt links on YouTube lmao

33. most used phrase in your phone? -TEAAA

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? -1 800-588-2300 Empiiiiire TODAY

35. average time you fall asleep? -M-F around 10ish or earlier and weekends I try to sleep late!

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing? -The “forever alone” ones lol

37. suitcase or duffel bag? -Depends on where I’m going and for how long.

38. lemonade or tea? -Lemonade

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie? -Ohh this one is tough... umm pie?

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? -We always had riots and brawls but one time the way it started in one corner of the school and made it all the way to the other end was funny because you could see how the riot spread.

41. last person you texted? -My sister!

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets? -Jacket!

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket? -Jean jacket!

44. favorite scent for soap? -For body soap, I like a soft clean scent and for hand soap I like eucalyptus mint.

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero? -Sci-Fi!

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in? -Pj pants/shorts and a tank top!

47. favorite type of cheese? -Provolone

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be? -An Orange, you gotta peel off the layers before you get to the sweet stuff!

49. what saying or quote do you live by? “Life sucks and then you die” -My senior year government teacher

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? -Literal nonsense my friends and I come up with.

51. current stresses? -Work, school, family, the virus... should I continue?

52. favorite font? -I’m honestly so used to Times New Roman that I forget others exist.

53. what is the current state of your hands? -Washed and clean!!

54. what did you learn from your first job? -Kids are fun, adults suck

55. favorite fairy tale? -Cinderella!

56. favorite tradition? -My family doesn’t have any so I’m hoping I’ll have some someday with someone.

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome? -All of 2018. Finding a home within a week, keeping a full time job even though I’m exhausted, finishing college

58. four talents you’re proud of having? -I give really good hugs, I’m good at helping people, I’m a self-starter, and I’m very organized

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be? -Yiiiikes

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be? -I know nothing about anime

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.? -“The greatest thing you will ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.” -Moulin Rouge (2001)

62. seven characters you relate to? -None, really. Which is a good thing considering I mostly read stories about murder mysteries and I am in fact, not a murderer.

63. five songs that would play in your club? -Act Up (City Girls), I Want it That Way (Backstreet Boys), Bye Bye Bye (NSYNC), Shake That Monkey (Too $hort), Oye Mi Amor (Maná)

64. favorite website from your childhood? -Neopets!

65. any permanent scars? -On my pinky from a cut with glass and on my eyebrow from stitches I got

66. favorite flower(s)? -Recently? Peonies

67. good luck charms? -Just the number 17 really

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? -Sea urchin

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned? -All leaves have symmetry!

70. left or right handed? -I’m right handed for writing, left for everything else really

71. least favorite pattern? -I love all patterns!

72. worst subject? -Math, but I like it?

73. favorite weird flavor combo? -Certain cereals with chocolate milk lol

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen? -10

75. when did you lose your first tooth? -I have no idea. All mine fell out early on.

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?’ -Potatoes are my favorite! I’d go with french fries though

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill? -The one you can grow out of a little bean lol

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store? -Always sushi

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo? -School ID

80. earth tones or jewel tones? -Both but I like the pop of jewel tones!

81. fireflies or lightning bugs? -“You would not believe your eyes, if 10 million fireflies...”

82. pc or console? -Console

83. writing or drawing? -Writing. I love to draw, but I’m shit at it

84. podcasts or talk radio? -Podcasts

84. barbie or polly pocket? -Barbieee

85. fairy tales or mythology? -Mythology

86. cookies or cupcakes? -Por que no los dos? Umm cookies!

87. your greatest fear? -Being buried alive

88. your greatest wish? -To be happy

89. who would you put before everyone else? -My nephew

90. luckiest mistake? -Interviewing for an entry level position and getting hired for something higher up

91. boxes or bags? -Depends on what I’m transporting

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights? -Sunlight in the morning, fairy lights at night

93. nicknames? -Barbie, Barbz, Dumb Bitch

94. favorite season? -Spring

95. favorite app on your phone? -IG

96. desktop background? -The moon

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized? -All my family and I used to have my best friends numbers too but then they switched their numbers and I never re-learned them

98. favorite historical era? -The Modern Era? Minus the racism.

Thanks Anon💕

[imsoftokay]

emoji tag

I’m tagging @paddingtonthegiraffe and @here-and-now9 :*

😍 celebrity crush

Robert Carlyle, Jared Padalecki and Ulrikke Falch

😘 irl crush

i’m not sure of anything right now

😖 something that makes you anxious

stupidity, rudeness, when people don’t listen to what I am saying, when they don’t close the door, talking to strangers (irl or on he phone or in general), talking to a lot of people ( a presentation in front of the entire class  -  i lose my shit)

😑 pet peeve

again not closing the fuckin’ door, non-simmetrical things, things that get dirty easly, when people just don’t get i don’t want to interact with them (talking, hugging, touching), is it so hard to put the ribbon marker in every hard-covered book?

😒 person you hate

I don’t hate people, but I strongly dislike some of them

😱 biggest fear

 death, life, darkness, bodybuilders

🤐 tell us a secret

I smell every book that I get/buy/read

😡 something that makes you mad

When I am beeing ignored or not taken seriously 

😈 turn on

good taste in music, nice arms and hands, firmness, passion, good smell

👿 turn off

not showering, bad breath, rudeness, duplicity

🙌🏻 something you can’t live without

books, the Internet (tv shows, tumblr, instagram), air, food (sweets, chocolate, pasta, pizza, good hot drinks)

👽 ever seen a ufo?

Well even if I had I don’t remember any of it

👄 first kiss story

sometime when I was in primary school, so I don’t remember any details but not like it matters to me

🤘 first concert you went to

not sure, I don’t really leave the house, but the first that I went to on my own was a couple of yrs ago with @here-and-now9

👀 eye color

hazel i guess

💇 hair length

almost mermaid hair (you know, when it covers the boobs)

💁 hair color

gingerllightblondeish

👯 best friend

a nerd thet doesn’t have tumblr, @meetmyinnerdemons and @here-and-now9 <3

👑 favorite Disney princess

Belle (mah spirit animal)

🐱 have any pets?

yeah, a dumbass dog ( i love her, though)

☘ are you superstitious?

maybe a bit, I know it’s dumb but I can’t help it

🌸 favorite flower

forget me not, daisy, lily of the valley

🌿 favorite season

what show, m8?

(jk autumn)

🌎 where you want to live

Norway or England

🌝 day or night

night

☄ seen a shooting star?

yes

🌈 favorite color

litterally anything covered in sunlight

❄️ favorite winter sport

not going outside

🌊 ocean or pool

ocean

☂ rainy or sunny?

rainy and sunny is the best combination

🍎 favorite fruit

lately mango

🎤 favorite singer

Dawid Podsiadło, Agnes Obel and Amy Winehouse

🎧 favorite band

The Neighbourhood, Arctic Monkeys

🎭 favorite play

Macbeth, but I don’t read much of them

🎹 play any instruments?

i fucking rock at playing silent night on mah flute

🎬 favorite movie

Cloud Atlas, it leaves me depressed, though (but I am not into movies at all lately, they bore me. I prefer tv series)

🎮 favorite video game

Assassin’s Creed

🚲 preferred type of transportation

my plane (but I don’t have the money yet, so I  usually take a bus)

✈️ place you want to travel

Scotland, India, Norway, America (both, all of them)

🏠 where you currently live

Poland

📞 last person you talked on the phone with

thet nerd that doesn’t have a tumblr so I can’t tag her

📺 favorite tv show

Sherlock, Supernatural, Shadowhunters, Skam, Parks & Rec, Modern Family

🚬 ever smoked/drank/done drugs

yeah, I’m the kid my parents warned me about when I was small (don’t get me wrong, I don’t do drugs and stuff)

🔮 where do you see yourself in 5 years

hopefully with my shit together and happy

🎁 best gift you’ve ever gotten

my own room

🎉 favorite holiday

Christmas, bc it’s cold outside and I don’t have to go out and do stuff

💌 ever received a love letter?

nope, still wating, bro

📚 a book you are currently reading

The Cirkle by  Mats Strandberg

📖 favorite book

Yall know it’s an impossible question

Twilight (always in my heart), the hunger games, The Raven Cycle, The mortal Instruments + Infernal Devices, Eleanor and Park

💗 sexuality

Bi

✝ religion

catholic

♌️ zodiac

virgo

✅ something you’ve checked off your bucket list

Well I’m gonna go to England and Scotland this year, so that counts, right?

#️⃣ lucky number

dont have one but 7 and 9 are satisfying

🎶 top 5 favorite songs

for now

back to blak - Amy Winehouse

5 fine frøkner - Gabrielle

Way down we go - Kaleo

Want it all - Boris Nonte

Fuel to fire - Agnes Obel

✖️ 5 things you hate

the hiatus (wating for tv series to come back to me)

not being able to understand or get something while trying hard

not being taken seriously 

forsing people to do things out of their comfort zone while knowing it’s hard for them and not completelly nessesary

like, I’m drinking that green coffe and I’m still fat, what’s the secret?

🕒 time you go to bed 

between 11PM and 3AM 

Tag whoever you want to or do it anyways

And sorry for any mistakes I’ve made , it’s like 2:47 a.m.