#i feel like i just got transported to 2014 tumblr

[capnhap]

🎺💀🎺 TooT TooT TooT🎺💀🎺 The Skeleton Army Sends Their Regards

fantastic

[godmerlin]

i hate to also send an evil anonymous message, and i mean this with all the love i have...but i think the other anon had actual good intentions they just didnt know how to phrase it.

ive followed you for a few years and, while i hate to say it, you tend to jump down the throat of anyone who has a negative reaction in any way to your blog. im not saying hate you got in the past is valid at all, but you really went in on the other person today the same way you have in the past and its honestly uncomfortable to watch. like they said, please be mindful and think of how your words affect others. the same can be said for them, and im sure they regret messaging you at all, but not because of guilt. i think they feel a little hurt, as they should.

your gifs do look different from what others post - and thats fine! some people focus more on different parts of the process. im a gifmaker myself, and i know our gifs look entirely different. you must know that there are gifmakers out there posting much higher quality/crisp gifs than the ones we make. theres nothing wrong with that, its just a fact.

anyway, long story short, anon from before was not rude in any way and you definitely came across as the bully. the chances of them having previously sent messages are pretty slim. please think a little before you attack, especially at your age.

I've literally never had people say anything like this to me off anon. I've also rarely got anonymous hate in the last few years lmfao. I really hadn't before last month in YEARS, in fact last month (at lesst i think it was last month, it could have been august) i made a post joking about it because I hadn't received hate in a very long time...so I don't know what you're talking about??? They WERE rude. Messaging anyone on anonymous to tell them how much their gifs suck is rude. You can literally just NOT do that. They chose to message me. They made that choice. They could have just been like "oh, her gifs suck" and went on about their day/night, but they chose to message me anyway.

I do not in any shape or form think that my gifs are this important to be sending asks in over. Like ??? I feel like I've been transported to tumblr circa 2014 and not in a good way.

If you think I attack people, just stop following me. Or if you don't follow me and just come to my blog, stop. It's that simple. Then you won't feel uncomfortable.

This is officially ridiculous.

[isakyakihasmyheart]

Mind Dump 5 years on...

This is the first time I've logged into this account since 2019(ish) so I'm pretty sure there's going to be no one left here but if you are, Hi! I'm just going to dump this post here because I am a tumblr girl at heart and laying my most deepest thoughts to strangers on the internet is all I've ever known...

After the recent news of the death of Liam Payne 2 days ago I've been thinking about this website non-stop. Like many people, this news hit me so unexpectedly emotionally. Grieving someone I never knew, but also grieving a time in my life I can never ever experience again.

My life has changed so much since I last logged into this account, and yet so little at the same time. I started this account in early 2017 after I got into SKAM back in 2016, abandoning a previous Dan and Phil centred account I had from 2014. I was still in school, the last season of SKAM lining up with my own life of leaving school and starting university. I remember thinking that was so cool, watching these characters I grew to adore also experiencing their last year alongside me. I started university in late 2018, studying to become a nurse but yet never got over SKAM. Instead, I became obsessed DRUCK and connected to Matteo in a way I haven't ever experienced with another fictional character since (the only close match being Connell from Normal People in that one uni scene iykyk). However, I ultimately ended up abandoning this account in 2019.

I don't actually know why I stopped coming on this website. Because since I was 14 this website was all I could ever think about. Me and best friend in 2014 were absolutely obsessed with tubmlr. We would literally spend hours on this website reblogging the most random things, and things that at that point in our lives meant so much to us. And with this recent news, I've felt this strong tsunami of nostalgia for that period of my life.

I was never a 1D blog, but I loved 1D. Not very openly as I had older sisters who made fun of me for it. I squashed any outwardly expression of my love for them to avoid this at all costs. A major cost being turning down to go and see them in concert in 2014/2015 when my friend (mentioned above) had an extra ticket. I think about that often and regret it every time. When covid came around and we were in lockdown I was in the mid/end of my 2nd year of uni, 20 years of age. I know a lot of people talk of how they regressed back to their younger passions, and so did I. I had the full 1D experience I never let myself have, not caring about others' opinions on it (mainly my older sister). I listened to their music nonstop every single day, watching so many edits and even reading fan fics. I truly felt like I was 14 again. But there was always that voice in the back of my head saying, "you're too late, it's not the same, you've missed out on it all." I yearned with everything in me to be that teenage girl again. It was during this period in 2020 that my family relationships also became very volatile and dysfunctional, meaning 1D became an even bigger safe space for me.

I've always been a nostalgic person in the worst way possible. I can't help but let the regrets of things I never did consume me. The thoughts of how different my life could be, how different I could be, it always plagues me. I know this sounds dramatic because I'm talking about a 2010s boyband, believe me I know it does.

But I was 14 when my life started to go to shit, when my mental health first started to decline and truthfully it has never recovered. Maybe because in the back of my mind, I always felt like that 14 year old girl, scared and alone and hurting so bad with no one to help her. And the unbelievable shocking news of Liam Payne dying, it's just transporting me back to that period of my life. Even more so as I lost my dad very unexpectedly and traumaticly in March this year.

I just feel so full of grief for so many things all at once, all separate yet all so intertwined. I would truly give anything and everything I have to just relive being that teenage girl, even the unspeakable bad parts. And it makes me so angry to know I can't. And of course, I can't, because that's not how time works! Yet it feels like I can't breathe when I come to that realisation. In all its dramatic flare, it genuinely feels like it's killing me that I can't ever experience that life again.

All in all, I'll never truly forget this website. Especially not this account, I loved this account! Maybe this is just the part of growing up I'm currently struggling with. I'm 24 now, which in itself is scary because no matter what I am and always will be that 14 year old girl.

Girlhood is forever and always xx

[tmntgirlie]

TMNT Universe!Reader x Turtles 3

You tried to mentally prepare yourself for the questioning you knew would ensue as soon as you left the safety of your room. Keyword is ‘tried’.

It seemed that they had been preparing lists of questions, and immediately shot them your way as soon as you exited.

“Whoa, whoa-” you exclaimed, your eyes wide. You could barely distinguish one voice from another, though it was obvious that Mikey was the one speaking the loudest. And had the most unusual questions.

How do you like your pizza? Really? That’s the question you go with?

You silently wondered what questions didn’t make the cut to be first in his mind.

“One at a time, guys, no need to crowd her. Sheesh.” It was Leonardo who stepped forward, holding an arm in front of his brothers as if to keep them from going any closer to you. “I’ll start. You’re not from around here. Where are you from?”

Oh, that was a loaded question. More loaded than a farmer’s gun in the south.

You know what, never mind.

“Do you want the long answer or the short answer? Neither of them include how I got here, still figuring that out,” you said, blinking a few times.

Were they all this absolutely ripped last night?

You swore you were not attracted to these turtles. That would be weird.

Right?

“Whichever one is more exciting, please!” Michelangelo almost sounded like he sang his request, putting his three-fingered hands together in a prayer-like manner.

The brother let you get settled in what you only could assume was their living room before you began the tale. It reminded you of the setting in the movie where they were situated most of the time. It wasn’t too complicated a layout, but you instinctively looked around for the Hashi room. That scene always cracked you up.

“I’m not sure how I got here,” you started, staring into space. There was no way you could just keep looking at them. You’d start to feel things. “Where I’m from, you guys are fictional.”

You remembered them referencing some popular Sci-Fi and Marvel from the first movie.

“Like how you know about X-Men and the Avengers. You guys were just made up.”

“We aren’t real?” Mikey gasped. “Like, legends?”

“Kind of?” You shrugged. “You definitely have a lot of fans. I think that it all started with comics about you guys, then movies and cartoons came out. I’m not really sure. I mostly know about you from these movies- the same guy who directed the Transformers movies directed your movie, actually- and from a few other sources.”

“How much do you know about us?” You could feel Raphael staring into your very soul.

“That depends?” Your voice raised as if asking a question. “There were a lot of different continuities. I mostly know the most recent movies and some profiles from a more recent animated series. I could be wrong, but I think there were… Four? Four animated series that were all similar, but targeted different audiences.”

You were absolutely not about to admit that all you really knew about those animated series were from gifs on Tumblr with no context. It was just better that way.

It took no time at all for each brother to individually attack you with questions about each of their characters. You answered them as best you could, but honestly, some of your answers you pulled out your ass. There were just so many different versions of them.

If this ever ended (and you prayed it didn’t), you promised to yourself to indulge in each continuity.

Once each and every brother became satisfied with your answers, you finally felt yourself relax. They took this surprisingly well. You couldn’t imagine someone suddenly popping into your life and telling you that they’ve read about you in books and were a fan of you.

Your life was way too boring for that. You were barely your own main character.

“We know that the technology for teleportation exists,” Donatello said. “It would only make sense that if that exists, it’s also possible for a device that can cross through dimensions exists as well.”

As he rambled on, you found yourself lost amid the scientific jargon he spewed. You clearly knew words like ‘the’ and ‘and’, but the words enveloping them? Not so much. You were never the best student in science class.

Although, you admitted to yourself, this was far beyond that. And to think he had no technical training.

“Does that make sense?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking back up at the purple-banded turtle.

“I’m thinking it could have been an accident. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the Purple Dragons, but you somehow got caught in them after transporting here,” he said thoughtfully. “You weren’t involved in any technological experimentation, correct?”

You blinked again. “Not that I was aware of. I have an uncle who is a rocket scientist, but I haven’t seen him in forever.”

Donatello sighed. “Until we can find out exactly what brought you here, there’s really nothing we can do. There’s not much to go off of. You weren’t involved in any experiments, you say you were sitting at your home- what were you doing at home? Did you get struck by lightning?”

“I was indoors,” you stated. “Watching a movie by myself. Alone.”

That did sound pitiful.

He made a face. “Right. As I said, until we figure this out- you’re stuck here, Y/N.”

You sat quietly on the couch, looking down at your feet. This wasn’t exactly the best-case scenario, but you were convinced this wasn't the worst-case scenario either. You could have been dropped into the live-action Avatar The Last Airbender movie. That would be the absolute worst.

“So what now? Do I go up top and find a job, get my own place, start a life here? Do I stay down here hoping to help you guys figure out what got me here? What?”

Your first option didn’t sound like something you wanted. You were suddenly given this opportunity to not have anything expected of you. You could live in secret, or as secret as the turtles allowed you to be. You didn’t want to feel like a freeloader, but also figured that one extra mouth to feed wouldn’t be a huge stretch for them. You knew how they ate already.

Man, you would not keep your figure on their diet.

It was Leonardo that spoke up. “No rash decisions yet. We’ll take every day as it comes. You can get a job or something if you want, but I’m almost nervous that who or whatever brought you here might be looking for you. They might be angry that whatever happened possibly happened wrong.”

Good point, good point.

“So I’ll stay down here until further notice,” you concluded, leaning back into the couch. You certainly didn’t expect it to go as far back as it did, and you ended up laying down with only your legs not on the actual couch. This was very smooth of you. “Huh.”

You could barely see Leonardo tilt his head in your direction. “You alright there?”

“This is a lot to take in.”

“We’ve seen some pretty strange things, but this might top it,” Raphael said. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost hear the smirk. “At least we got a fangirl.”

You sat up slowly, rattling your brain for a witty remark. When none came to mind, you settled on sticking your tongue out. You might not be a teenager anymore, but there’s always that inner-child inside of you.

Being with these four, and Splinter, was something you had dreamed about years ago when you first saw the 2014 movie. Now that you had calmed down (for the most part) and ‘grown-up’, it was bringing back the memories of dreaming how something just like this would go. Who you would possibly end up with. How you would get along with the others.

You weren’t sure if you were excited or terrified that those dreams actually come to fruition. 

[bennguinfest]

Spring 2019 Fan Fest Prompt List

Hey fan-festers! 

We’re happy to say that we received 81 prompts this time around, and we spent the last few days distilling all those amazing and creative prompts down to a list of 63 prompts! (If you’re keeping count, that’s far more than last year’s 48!) 

As with last year, we had some repeat prompts and prompts that were similar enough that it made sense to condense them under one item. Additionally, most of the prompts we distilled down to a few words for the sake of having a concise list! Again, like last year’s fest, we’re providing the full text of the original prompts under the cut, in case you’re looking for more details to get started!

You’re free to create any kind of fanwork based on the below prompts! There’s no minimum word count and no rules on what to create, or even how many - if you want to combine prompts, that’s cool! If you’re called to make more than one thing, that’s awesome too! The only limit is that this fest runs from now until April 15th - so if you’re creating something, make sure you post it and tag it with #bennguinfanfest so we can share it to this tumblr! If you’re posting to AO3, the collection is now open for submissions as well, so make sure to include your work there so everyone can find it!

One final thing: even if you didn’t submit prompts, feel free to participate and join us on the discord! We’ve set up a discord server here: bennguinfest on discord to stay connected, inspire each other, and have fun! It’s a great group and really active, so don’t be shy!

That’s it! On to the prompt list!

Matchmaking dogs

Space AU

Birthday gifts

Coming out/being together in the NHL

Acting like a couple (but they’re not actually a couple)

Tyler as a WAG

Transported to a parallel universe

Abducted by aliens

Superhero/Superpowers AU

Amnesia from an injury

Soulmate AUs: Color-based, name-on-wrist

Thirst follow/Met online

Drag AU

Time loops

Alternate histories

Cop AU

Reality show AU (Survivor, the Bachelor, Married At First Sight)

Jamie Poppins/Single dad AU

Supernatural races (vampires, werewolves, shapeshifters, etc.)

Omegaverse: Courting

Delivery boy/Uber driver AU

Tyler gets traded back to Boston

Breaking up & making up

Omegaverse: Bonding drama

Boring office desk job

Road trips

Protective Jamie defending Tyler

College/University AU

Tyler tries to be Jamie’s wingman

Lites’s comments affecting the boys

Taking care of a sick hockey player

Cuddle pile/team bed fic

Harry Potter AU

Fire alarm meet-cute

DnD/Hockey Mashup

De-aged after a fight

Bakery/Tattoo Artist AU

Friends with benefits - and then with feelings

Zombie AU

Homeless AU

Nerds are hot/competency kink

Omegaverse: scents

YouTube channel AU

Bridal shop meet-cute

Beard appreciation

Tornado warning

Figure skater mpreg

Self-conscious Jamie

Wing!fic

Winning the cup and a kiss on the ice

Lifeguard AU

Haunted farm

Animal daemons

Surprise/sudden parenting

Jealousy from dating/flirting with someone else

Secret relationship and almost getting caught

Long-lost childhood friends

"Come here."

“Close the door.”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“It’s three in the morning and you want me to do what?”

“You could’ve died.”

“I thought you were dead.

Full text of the prompts under the link! If you have any questions, feel free to send us an ask - and as always, happy creating! 

1. Matchmaking dogs: Tyler’s dogs want to get their human with a certain cow-eyed captain

“well this is really awkward considering the last time we saw each other, i was screaming at you to never talk to me again, but like, my dog recognized you all the way across the park and literally dragged me over here because she misses you so hi” AU

2. Space AU (ex. Star Trek, Firefly, or something else entirely)

3. It's Tyler's birthday and at first Jamie gives off the feeling that he's forgotten and this hurts Tyler but it turns out that that Jamie wakes Tyler up at midnight on his birthday with two tickets to an offseason trip

4. I want a fic that REALLY captures what it would be like if two NHL players were to come out in 2019. I'm talking teammate reactions, press reactions, social media, family, the whole shebang. I wanna see the real raw reactions and the struggle the guys would have to go through. I would also loooove if you could fit Jamie proposing to Tyler in there somewhere but it isn't a necessity.

Jamie has a hard time dealing with how public Tyler’s life is, with the insta stories and with random people filming him all the time. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before their relationship is exposed because of how much Tyler is in the public eye. Jamie doesn’t want to break up but it seems like that’s the only choice he has. He doesn’t want to do this so much that he calls a press conference and comes out of the closet.

Jamie and Tyler have been dating since 2014 and he’s tired of hiding it. So with Jamie’s consent he posts a cute photo of them being a couple and writes a heartfelt monologue about their story. And the whole hockey community blows up about it. And it’s kinda about how they deal with being and out couple and Tyler posting obnoxiously cute couple photos on his Instagram. Sorry this prompted is a mess I just want Tyler to be a troll and post cute cliche couple photos on Instagram of him and Jamie and the world loading their minds about it.

Jamie and Tyler come out to the team about them dating. Management wants to keep their relationship secret so they make Jamie fake date someone. And him and Tyler struggle with the stress that puts on them.

realistic consequences of being together with the team

5. Tyler and Jamie are super close but super oblivious to the fact that they act like a literal couple. Jamie has a gf and she hates the fact that it seems like Jamie cares more about Tyler than he does her.

6. Fluffy fic where Jamie still plays hockey, he meets tyler and they fall in love and tyler becomes an nhl wife/husband/boyfriend.

7. Parallel universes -- somehow Tyler (or Jamie) finds himself in an alternate universe where his life is radically different (for better or for worse) which makes him realize how much his relationship to Jamie (or Tyler) means.

waking up in the future/alternate reality fic

8. Jamie and Tyler are abducted by aliens and taken to a faraway planet where they are prisoners in a bizarro planet. Is it real or is it a nightmare though?

9. jamie and tyler are in danger and major trouble when their identities as superheroes are revealed and bad guys are after them.

powers/mutant AU (as in pick one, not all at the same time) One hides their ability from the other, and when the other finds out, its...not good

Superhero AU! Are they superhero partners? Is one of them a superhero and can't date the other because he has to keep him safe? Are they both trying to keep their secret identities secret from each other while simultaneously dating in both iterations? Up to you, or anything else!

10. Amnesia angst for the win - Jamie gets a particularly hard hit, wakes up and can remember everyone except for tyler (maybe not explicitly, say they can *remember* them, but not remember that they've been dating for eight months now) cue tyler avoiding jamie because its too hard him to be around him

11. soulmate au! people are born with blackmarks - on their hands, their faces, their skin in general - the black marks is the first place their soulmate would touch them. Jamie was born without a mark. Tyler was born with two pitch black palms. Years after tylers been traded to the stars, Jamie falls asleep, and tyler can't help but run his fingers through Jamie's hair, just once, and then he looks down at his hand and the tips of his fingers are colored, and so are the few strands of Jamie's black hair.

Soulmate au- either abo or name on wrist. No drama, just fluff!

12. Tyler thirst follows Jamie on insta. This can be hockey or non-hockey, but Jamie follows back and they start talking.

13. Rupaul’s Drag Race au. Tyler and Jamie are competing against each other but are constantly talking about how much they like each other/are attracted to each other in the confessional. They’re both single, so why not go for it? Alternatively, one is a queen and the other is a member of the pit crew.

14. groundhog day au (aka, tylers/jamies day keeps getting reset, again and again until they get together finally and wake up the next day)

15. alternate history, tyler is never traded to dallas, but they still somehow meet and fall in love anyway

16. cop AU, where in tyler the rookie transfers and get stuck with Jamie the sorta senior to show him the ropes. Jamie gets attached. And that’s...a problem, in their line of work. Or at least it is for him.

17. Survivor au- same or different tribe, as long as they’re the “showmance”

"The Bachelor" AU

Married at first sight au- either within the parameters of the actual show, or they literally get married the day they meet

18. Jamie!Poppins - tyler is a single father with a new baby and no clue of what he's going to do. enter Jamie Poppins!

19. Minotaur Jamie

The Dallas Stars are a pack of werewolves, and Tyler is the vampire that’s been traded to their team.

Shifter verse!! and ive got nothing else for this other than wanting to see tyler as a tiny lab puppy pls and thanks

20. Alpha Tyler and omega Jamie: “usually when I meet an omega I wanna bone, but with Jamie I wanna fucking hold his hand and feed him bonbons all day, what the fuck”

21. Jamie the delivery boy. Kay hear me out. Like he keeps delivering huge quantities of food to this particular house and it always seems like there should be more than one person. But there’s not. And Tyler orders. All. The. Time. Hopeful it’s jamie. But they’re both too dumb to ask each other out. Lots of pining

Uber driver! Jamie picks up Tyler from a one night stand

22. Tyler gets traded back to Boston AU - Everything hurts and nothing is okay. (except that at least one of them is retiring at the end of the season so it's actually more okay than they think) (also a future fic)

23. breakup and makeup but spanning over seasons - no cheese plots

24. Bond drama (abo) either they bond too quickly, like at the all star game or something and dont know ehat to do because theyre on different teams, or they really want to bond and its not happening as fast as they think it should

25. Boring office desk job

26. road trip to Montreal to visit Jordie

27. while out chilling at a bar celebrating a win, jamie and tyler are having a couple of drinks and when jamie gets up to go the bathroom, a drunk stranger and a couple of his friends decide to harass Tyler, upsetting him. A furiously protective Jamie intervenes and despite holding his own, Jamie is beaten up and him and tyler end up in a dumpster.

28. A University fic where Tyler is out and proud and gay and Jamie is still trying to figure out his sexuality but he's having a hard time. No homophobic Jamie tho please, just a guy trying to figure himself out. Would love if he would rely on his family throughout the fic for advice.

I’m always a sucker for college au, or masters/PhD students etc

COLLEGE AU BECAUSE WE ALL NEED MORE OF THAT IN OUR LIVES

'the cops showed up to a party we were at and chased everyone away. You and I happened to run in the opposite direction of all our friends and got lost in some dark and creepy street.’ - College AU

29. Tyler finds out Jamie is gay (outed/comes out/whatever you prefer) and embarks on a wild but good-intentioned quest to find Jamie his perfect man.

30. Tyler is hurt by Lites' comments more than one thinks and Jamie is worried when he sees Tyler crying in private.

31. sickfic? jamie taking care of tyler is- like just how pathetic is a sick hockey player?

32. team bed au omg someone pls

33. Harry Potter au but not as high school student, just something in the magical world

34. "3am and the fire alarm in our apartment building went off and you look cold here is my jacket"

35. Hockey AU but they’re all dnd races. I would love to see half-orc Jamie, and goliath Bishop, and tiefling Tyler. Please be as creative as you want with this!

Hockey AU where instead of going out, a core group of guys plays dnd in their hotel rooms while on the road. Tyler and Jamie’s characters are getting flirty in game, and it’s starting to translate outside of it as well.

36. Tyler and jamie fight - a *big* fight, and the next day Jamie suddenly got a deaged tyler on his hands and no idea how to fix it

37. Jamie owns a bakery and tylers the new tat artist next door plsplspls gimme that slow burn bullshit with this one

38. ty/jam used to have a whole friends w benefits thing that went oh-so-wrong because one (or both of them) caught feelings—as one does—and the fic is kind of that aftermath and trying to repair the broken relationship.

39. ZOMBIES

40. Homeless AU w/tyler

41. Tyler is smarter than he leads people to believe, and Jamie is into privately nerdy Tyler

42. Abo verse surrounding scents. Tyler smells like the most delicious thing Jamie has ever smelled, but he thinks he shouldn’t bond with a teammate

43. Youtube channel

44. Designer and single friend of client at a bridal shop AU

45. Beard appreciation

46. a tornado warning hits dallas and everybody is ordered to seek shelter. jamie follows tyler back to his house and hide in the basement with the dogs, frantic and terrified.

47. Tyler is a figure skater, Jamie still plays hockey. They meet and fall inlove but whoops tyler ends up pregnant. The world still isn't 100% accepting of LGBTQIA+ people and even less accepting of men getting pregnant. Tyler feels down at some point cause he has to put his career on hold. but it all ends up great in the end.

48. Jamie feels self-conscious about his ass after some chirping from opposing players and it's up to Tyler to comfort him

49. Wing!fic

50. They win the Stanley cup and kiss at centre ice

51. Jamie's a lifeguard. They meet after Tyler basically drowns himself. (It's not an excuse to have Jamie kiss him. Its *not*.)

52. Haunted farm au- Tyler is a witch that lives on a farm where extremely weird things happen. He ends up rescuing Jamie and Jamie pledges his services for one year in exchange for his life. During that year, they fall for each other hard, but there are outside forces in the farm trying to keep them apart.

53. Animal daemons

Goose daemons

54. Marshall, Cash and Gerry turn into human kids (temporarily or not), Bennguin handle being sudden parents

55. Tyler having a serious boyfriend for a while and Jamie is jealous because he wants to date Tyler but he’s not ready to come out. And he’s also upset because everyone is taking it so well and nothing has changed and he realizes he really missed out. But in the end they still get together.

56. secret relationship and how they almost get caught - many many times

57. Childhood pen pal / long distance childhood friends?

58. "Come here."

59. “Close the door.”

60. “I feel like I can’t breathe.”

61. “It’s three in the morning and you want me to do what?”

62. “You could’ve died.”

63. “I thought you were dead.”

[pseudodeepwords]

thoughts from a head in the clouds

okay, context: i got a little d9 dab pen at the gas station and took too much and decided to document how i felt because it was crazy. here is what i wrote, unedited and in its entirety. please be merciful.

hi tomorrow morning aubrey its me 10 pm high aubrey

in case i dont remember:

took more hits than with haz previously and took some pretty big preheated hits and holy shit dude this is crazy

i wasnt sure if i was high before but i for sure am high as hfuck now i was gonna fix tha typo but i didnt feel like it. same for that one idc so idk if im gonna fully remember this but uh

vision kinda goes in and out in a groovy wave pattern. very 70s fashion inspired stuff

everything is going in and out a little bit. like sea spray on glass. oceanic themes are also present elsewhere. if i try really hard i can make myself stop for a second before doing it again but i keep waving my torso around like im in a boat or a tube or something. like in galveston when the waves kept knocking me arounf or in kiowa that sumer with emma and caroline and i dont really know why but it's nit unkpleasant.

i care less about the typos right now but i promise im fixing some of them. most of them.

i realize i might pos this on my tumblr maybe and its gonna sound fake and crcinge and 2014 and thats okay becasue right now i think it;s really fun to documnet it. thats why i write. its for me. its almist never for anyone ekse and i dont give mysekf credit for it. it's beeen about seven minutes since i starged typing but it feels much longer. it's easiet to sto swayin gand things are almost back to normal speed. not really tho. kind of. lol

im sad haz isnt here. they would probably have been fun to talk to. im thinking about trips i didnt tell dad i was taking.

like the lake with haz a couple weeks ago when we got minecrafgt steve stuck in that pothole and those really nice okies had a tow strap theu used to save us and like that timw i told dad i was in austin and instaed i went with my friends i hadnt seen in two years to galveston so i could traste the ocean and the sea salk breeze for the very first time and even though it was galvy water and i got sick afterwards it was still the sea and i didn't sleep because i forgot my sleeping pills and i thought about will the whole time because i loved him so much and it hurt so bad but it was still better than being numb like i thought id be without him like i was without him that i let it go on too long and killed whatever else we coul have been.

like that time i told dad i was going with ally to abilene and it was her idea and we had a friend out there and i really went alone to see b for the first and so far onky time and even thouh it was miserably hot and i got so dehydrated i got a uti and we couldnt have as much evil sex as we wabted it was so good and i am so in love with him now but this time he does not love me back and i dont jnow if it scares me or not because the last two loved me back and still left so whats this gonna end jp being anhwaus but i dont care because i think i love him even though i feek like we dont know each other that much and im onkyt just now realixing that but i dont care i dont think, i think im reading too deeo unto my own insecurities and we just are what we are thats something sam would say and i trust him even though im still hurt but not realy

im still upset with sam but even more upset with mysle fbaout it. i cried about mom the ither day for the first time in a whike

am i a abd person? do i miss her> i think i do bit i can barely remember her. why wasnt i allowed to be a whole person

why did i always have to be alone

did i do it to myself

where did it get me?

it got me to kiowa and the worst sunburn of my life and it got me to galveston when i was supposed to be in austin esveot no i wasnt and my car needed an oil change but i didnt wanna get one so i was reliant on others for transportation and i remembered how much thar sucks because i want to be able to leave on my terms because god fucking knows i never have been afforded that kuxury before. it got me to abilene. it got me to will and sam abd fucking matthew and all that shit. i dont know if i regret any of it or all of it or none of it. i cant tell anymore if i think im in love with b or if i just need to be wanted. i tjink right this second im leaning towards tha latter but thats bc im emo and lonely. forgot how much distance sucks lol. someon e tected me

it was emmy from tinder. shes nice.

it feels like im a diver. water. remember this was about water,

i wish haz was here they could talk me through the emo patch i know it

i trust them so when they tell me i deserve love and knowin the wouldnt keep me around if they didnt love me in their own way i have to eblievve them theyre my best friend and id probably kill myself if they died bc i really could not live withougt them theyre maybe the only person i think has ever actually seen me or even come close to seeing me without leaving me theyre so importan to me haz i hope u read this if i post it on tumblr ur my platonic soulmateb my twin flame whateber the fuck idk how i would go on without u for real ur my eternal shoulder to cry on and u know me so wekk and care about me even when im a bitcbh ilysm

ally also i love u even when u are devious because of your occasionally unchecked mental illness ilysm

i forgot i was wearing a shirt bc the yellow light frin the screen on thsi white tank top looks like my sking lol

im gonna turn this smocsh video compilation on and tru to sleep lol see u in the nmorning sober me xoxo maybe we dont do that much along next time to avoid the esy mood shifys shawty

i love water i love my friends i love the people i love so much and i love being a diver in secret becuase its just for me and nothing else evr seems like it is. i do not deserve salll the bullshit i went throgu and i deserve to be happy. i hope i find that soon.

[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 

[xyouaremylifedelena]

Some thoughts after seeing The Last Jedi

I’ve been a fan of Star Wars for as long as I can remember. I liked the prequels, but the acting was cringy at times (I’m looking at you, Ep1&2) but still enjoyed the tragic love story between Padme and Anakin even though Anakin became an ass at the end of 3 (still love Vader though). 

With that being said, I was always in the Rey & Kylo fandom but didn’t interact that much with you guys. I was always liking an rebloging stuff, other than that, I tried to stay as far away as I could from the fandom (or every fandom for that matter). I used to talk with other shippers on twitter and tumblr, interacting with them between 2010-2014, because for me, thats when the ‘fandom culture’ wasn’t that much toxic. I’ve shipped damon & elena since 2009, I’ve always made fanvids with them on youtube and the shipping wars we had was about which couple was better, (for those whose been in that fandom, remember that Delena and Stelena we’re craaaazy) but for some twisted reason, it was fun having a ‘war’ with the other fandom. Probably because we didn’t insult each other, we just didn’t like the other couple, that was that.

But from 2015 to now, I’ve seen the fandom culture changing into something that wasn’t healthy at all. Insulting each other and throwing the words ‘abuse’, ‘toxic’, etc. everywhere wasn’t my cup of tea, so I stayed away for a long time. It’s fiction first of all, so it isn’t that deep and second, I’ve grown up with worse tv shows, games and movies than that and didn’t turn out to be ‘fucked up’. I’ve had an ex-boyfriend who was mentally abusive to me, but didn’t stop liking certain ships because  ‘they we’re presumably bad for each other’ or ‘(insert character name) fucked up’. Yes, I changed the way I viewed my relationships with everyone. I did let some people go because of it but I never paired fiction with reality. EVER. Because liking something doesn’t make you a bad person, change your morals or whatever. It’s like saying we should stop making Star Wars as whole because it promotes war? Humans aren’t that dumb. Yes, some people make bad choices, but that’s not because they go on tumblr or twitter and ship a certain couple. Like wtf. You do you guys. 

All of that to say that, I couldn’t stay away from the Reylo fandom because I just can’t get enough of them. I’ve shipped them since TFA got out (I even whispered to my best friend ‘is it weird I ship those two?’ at the interrogation scene) and never looked back since then. 

Anyways, I have some things I have to say about the movie so here it is: 

I absolutely loved every Rey & Kylo (Ben?) scenes. Driver and Ridley we’re so amazing in this one, I couldn’t help but REALLY stare at the screen for every scene they shared. Seriously, they’ve blown my mind. The movie could have been better in my opinion but everything was perfectly executed and believable, I would go and see it a second time for sure (Overall, I give the movie a 7.5-8/10).

The force bond

It was really well done. It felt like they we’re in the same place at the same time, even though it was totally different scenes. I have to give a thumbs up to Rian Johnson for that. One of my favorite moment is when they touch their hands and Luke explodes the hut. It was sweet and not something I was expecting from them, or at all actually. I loved that Ben is transported into her surroundings instead of his, mostly because the lighting in hers is really warm and just feels safe and comforting instead of his who’s more cold and dreadful. It clearly states that she is okay with him being near her and found a friend who can actually understand her worries when she thought she was alone. They have each other.  I’ve seen some post worried about the last scene, when she is shutting the door of the falcon on him as if destroying the force bond. But the thing is... You can’t destroy a force bond unless one of the two dies. And even then, it feels like a piece missing in you, a wound you can’t heal. Also, when she sees him, she hesitate for a moment, opens her mouth as if to speak but chooses not to. She looks more mad at him for his poor choices dans than hating him just because. She knows he won’t hurt her, she just want to make a point by closing the door that she can control when she can see him or not, shutting him out of her mind like she did at their first force visions. 

Ben’s redemption

It’s happening. I seriously didn’t thought he would be after the little tantrum he did on Crait, but there’s one moment, a little moment that can confirms you that he will be redeem. It is not a scene with Rey though. It’s the scene where Luke and Leia talks when they see each other for the last time. She says something along the lines that her son is not himself anymore and Luke respond by saying that he can still be brought back. I have no idea why, but the fact that Luke finally see this calls back to when Rey tells him that Ben is their only hope after the hut scene. Rey lost that hope at the end of the movie, but Luke finally understands her words and believes it more than ever. Even when he’s in front of Kylo, he tells him that he will always be with him like Han is. I’m pretty sure that we’ll see Luke guiding him and Rey in IX together, because she’s the only one who can bring him back now that Carrie Fisher is gone. Maybe Kylo knowing that his mother is dead will affect him dearly, but I don’t see that happening in the first act of the movie.

 There’s subtle hints here and there that he’ll come back, like the fact that Hux wants to kill him and side eye him when Kylo pulls a tantrum on Luke. My theory for this, is that the real villain of IX will be Hux and not Kylo. The fact that Kylo is practically begging Rey with his eyes to not reject him does not make him the baddest villain, it’s a call for help. If Rey would have taken his hand, Kylo would have turned around and run away with her, so he wouldn’t have lied to Hux about who killed Snoke. Pretty sure he would have exterminate the dude. The guy is still conflicted about himself being in the dark side or light side, and ends up being grey at the end of the movie even if he’s still trying to be dark (we all know he loses his chill when Rey rejects him, not because he just wants to be dark).

I’m not sure yet if Reylo will be endgame yet, I’ll have to wait for more inteviews but they’re not dead for sure. They’ll have a final showdown and all that and then Ben will probably switch side by the end of the second or third act. I just hope they don’t do like Anakin’s story and kill him at the end.

Also, J.J. Abrahams is the one who compared Rey and Kylo to a Princess and a Prince, that star wars was a kind of fairytale and that they wanted to explore that relationship further down the road. Plus, he still had to approve the idea of Johnson with TLJ. If he didn’t want this to happen, we wouldn’t be seeing any romantic Reylo in the movie AT ALL. 

(Sorry if I made some mistakes while typing this, French is my first language so if you didn’t understand a shit of what I said, don’t be afraid to tell me!) 

[benjaminwatchworld]

My review of the decade is kicking off my first blog of 2020, still debating if I should do a review of 2019 it’s self. Anyway, where to start is a bit of a problem but I have to write this and it’s supposed to be long but I will make it short since a few of my readers complain about the length of my write-ups.

I am going to do more of outlining those special events that happened this ending decade and will surely impact the starting decade. Will start with 2013 when Benedict XVI shocked the world in February when he became the first pope to resign in almost 600 years Which makes us a special generation to have been a life when that historical event happened. After the guys did the surprise announcement all the attention shifted so fast to the succession, and the election of the new Pope, Francis. In the next decade one question will maybe fully be answered, “why did Benedict quit?”

Before going to the rest of the world, my Uganda should come first, the decade has been doted by a raise of violence in the pearl of Africa some that were a result of political events since we hard two elections in there that were more of scripted unless in the last on the biggest opposition figure took the oath of office for presidency on his own inspiring Kenya an the likes of Venezuela where it seemed to have worked that side in the initial stages making Dr. Besigye more of a world experiment since his work to work events were more of a blueprint for the Arab spring. It’s laughable but sad, the cries of human rights violations with the talks of safe houses and torture as a mode of investigation, murders and assassinations have been trend of the decade which started with religious clerics then a judge and later there was an Amy office, a member of Parliament and two high ranking police officers all done in a MOSSAD style.

Let me speed through the bad ones but are their goods the oil production has still not yet started, middle-income delusion has not materialized. There are memorable ones, like Uganda making 50 years of independence, and hosting the biggest number of refugees in the world because of the instabilities that are around us, we have our brothers coming from South Sudan, Burundi, DRC and many from the Horn of Africa putting our hospitality to a whole new level that other countries are coming into a benchmark on our methods only that along the way the UN found out that the numbers were being exaggerated for some reason that would need there own blog.

In this ending decade, there a few sporting achievements that really united the county but the government seemed to learn nothing from the results of the events. In the 2012 London Olympics Uganda managed to get a Gold medal taking the country by storm since it was like 4 decades since it last happened, I was not there am not sure if it’s even true. Then again after about 3 decades the Uganda Cranes the National Football team qualified for the African Cup of Nations which to me is still a dream I have to wake up from. World Cup is not a statement related to Uganda but the She Cranes has been able to go for two world events in the last ten years. Those sports moments made Ugandans feel like one. The other event that made Uganda feel like it was not in a milky way was a political event, the second of the two presidential candidates debates before an election.

Moving to other things away from Uganda that will always be remembered about the decade which started with South Africa host the 2010 FIFA world cup on the continent for the first time. The aftermath of the seven resulted in the change of leadership at the Football organization because of serious crimes in how money was moving around.

The United States of America has a Russian agent as President am joking but the truth is that Donald Trump is the head of the Free world crazy just like the predicted end of the world in December 2012 but when you take a close look we are not far from a Mad max situation going to the next decade.

This decade has seen the most advancement in tech, can you believe it that before this ending decade there was no iPad first came out this decade, and many other companies joined the Apple revolution. When it first comes out, it was quite a special tech item but now we are using them to play Fruit Ninja. Companies like SpaceX, Boeing shaped a lot of the technology of the decade. Then come to the raid hailing apps for transport that in Uganda we even use them for boda bodas. Hybrid and fully electronic cars are no longer things for the future.

But with all the technological achievements it’s this decade when our phones track our every activity and location that a Malaysia Airlines passenger jet disappeared without a trace in early 2014, the fate of the plane and the 239 passengers and crew on board has become one of the biggest aviation mysteries. The missing plane captured the attention of millions around the world, triggering a multinational search and plenty of conspiracy theories. In the middle of last year, The Atlantic gave us a report of what could have happened the plane was likely intentionally crashed by the pilot which I don’t want to believe.

This decade has also been a roller coaster in the entertainment industry and for me my mark was boyhood but there was a whole range of movies, TV shows and music albums that will surely be classics. From 2012 to 2013 was truly the time of viral videos and Ylvis’ “The Fox” was truly the strangest one to ever become an internet hit. Then the Oscars Twelve years of Slaves was special for Africa because Lupita, the movement of Oscars are so white which I don’t feel was justified followed by Oscars are so male, I can’t imagine a woman or black person playing Hitler just saying. Leonardo finally got a win at the 88th Academy Awards in 2016 when he awarded Best Actor for his role in The Revenant, and I still believe he put upper a better show in The Wolf at Wall Street but the academy decided to give him an award for a role he barely sides anything all movie. This decade saw the end of Harry Potter and the Massive Game of Thrones a TV show that really had an impact on television history.

In the last decade, there has been some very nice Music coming from the likes of Adele, Ed screen, Beyonce, Sam Smith, Taylor Swift, Common and John Legend, Cold Play to the Renegades but the song of the decade fell from nowhere pictures a man doing horse-riding-like dance in July 2012 all the way from South Korea called Psy released a new song called Gangnam Style and it’s the only song on YouTube with a billion views.

It was that decade when The Harlem Shake happened in 2013, thousands of bizarre 30second versions of the “Harlem Shake” a dance set to the electronic song by DJ Baauer were being uploaded on the daily, from sports clubs to military men, to government officials.

What am I living out, sports a lot happened, from that World Cup in South Africa to Japan beating up South Africa in a rugby world cup tipping tables in the sport to the Golden State Warriors taking the NBA by storm but for me, my moment was Leicester City winning the English Premier League. It has become a turn of some sort we a now calling surprises “A Leicester City”.

About 19 million tweets kicked of the Me Too campaign leading to widespread awareness and discussion of the topic of sexual assault against women and have since then become a historic feminist movement, it’s another thing we can partly credit to the internet and technology.

It was that decade when the rainbow was everywhere in the world every single day after Same-sex marriage became legal in the U.S.A on June 26, 2015, it opened another door for LGBTQ+ Community in the whole world. So that past decade we were lucky to witness two royal weddings the one in 2011 and the last one in 2018 that seemed to be more special because many things about it rewrote human history.

In that last decade Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, Moammar Gadhafi of Libya, Ali Abdullah Saleh of Yemen and Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia all went out of office in the same year in what came to be known as the Arab spring. Later down the decade, Omar Bashir of Sudan was overthrown a prior to him Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe also left office.

I will end with war in Syria, it’s a Civil war against the government of Assad, it’s a proxy war between Russia and America, it’s a religious war with between the Sunni and Shia Muslims who are backing a president from the Alwhyt side of Islam and its an international war against the self-proclaimed Caliphate called ISIS that has seen almost every nation on the planet get involved. Since 2011 the end is not yet in sight producing the greatest numbers of refugees since the Second world war making it the climax of the third world war generation. War is war.

The greatest thing of the decade is the awareness concerning climate change even if it has come at a very high cost at least for now everyone on the planet knows what we have got ourselves into going to the next 10 years.

I will end with a light one but it still fascinates me to this date. Never before has the world been so divided over something so simple as the color of a dress but that’s exactly what happened back in February 2015 when a picture of a dress originally posted on Tumblr suddenly went viral overnight. To me “The dress is gold and white”

That Decade My review of the decade is kicking off my first blog of 2020, still debating if I should do a review of 2019 it’s self.

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: KlaineShip2 day 1

And now for someone a little different... Klaineship2 is a fic translator who translates her favourite fic into German.  

DAY 1: Meet the author

First of all I want to thank @damnpene and @spaceorphan18 for finding me worthy to stand in the Author's Spotlight. I feel humbled to be included in the circle of fandom authors, though I don't write original fic myself but I translate them into German.

1. Why Klaine? 

In Germany Glee season 1-4 aired from Jan 2011 through Nov 2013. I loved the music. It reminded me of the tv-series 'Fame – Der Weg zum Ruhm' that I had once loved watching (it was about a New York Performing Arts-HighSchool – who remembers kindhearted keyboarder Bruno Martelli or rebellious Leroy Johnson?) and I tried not to miss an episode. Of course it was the German Dub version and while Kurt's German voice is very similar to Chris's, the German speaker overdid it a bit with Kurt's uppity attitude and it took me some time to warm up to him. But when the bullying got worse I connected to him because I'd also experienced bullying during my school days. When Blaine Anderson entered the scene I fell under the spell of the love those stupid boys shared for one another (like you all did, too).  

In 2014 Germany stopped airing for whatever reason and I had to wait for the UK-DVD release of Season 5 in October to continue watching (Don't tell me about internet possibilities to watch series from other countries – I am a computer dummy and never knew how to do that) In the meantime I had purchased the Season 1-4 DVDs as well and watched it over and over again in English which made so much more sense to me. During that long break I started to search the internet and found the glee.wiki pages. During a discussion there someone mentioned fanfiction and listed his favourite 5 AUs, including @flamingmuse 's 'Near Misses', which led me to her livejournal, where I fell in love with her fics, which led me to  AO3 and that was when I fell into the rabbit hole that is fanfiction, and I didn't find a way back since. When I read a particular entrancing line I sometimes wanted to know what it would sound like in German and tried to translate it. In January 2016 I finally started with a short 600 word story just to see if I could do it, because I am not a professionell interpreter and, well, I kind of liked it and continued translating my favourite stories.

2. What draws you to the kinds of stories you translate? 

At first I only read canon compliant stories to fill in all the logical gaps and give me a bit of understanding what went on in those boys heads but then I found some very inspiring AUs as well  and I indulged myself in sweet and angsty stories.

So the most important to me are the missing scenes and I started to post translations of my favorite ones for each season. Season 1-3 are completed, and I'm going to start on Season 4 in a couple of days. I am very particular about them being really canon compliant. There are several authors who I adore for these wonderful pieces. These fics don't always have to reveal any specific insights, I love fluffy domestic Klaine just as much and of course some sexy Klaine once in a while.

In AUs I love it when they have really realistic story lines and are not just that overly lovey-dovey stuff. A good AU for me is not just Kurt and Blaine and Love/Sex but real life background. My favourite AUs tell stories about Kurt and Blaine going through very angsty and dark times (like misunderstanding, injury, depression, crime aftermath or immigrant politics) struggling and hurting a lot but coming out of it as stronger and better people. There is also Firefighter!Blaine or Deaf!Blaine but always with a lot of background and context. This background and context is also very interesting to me for a better understanding of US culture (e.g. college / Broadway / Immigrant situation) or to compare it to Germany (e.g. health system / fire department / Deaf Culture)

What kind of stories do you most enjoy? Do you translate fluff? Angst? Sex?  Have you ever translated anything way outside your usual wheelhouse?  Do you prefer to translate AUs or fic that’s consistent with canon?

Starting with the last question: as I said in the previous answer. I enjoy both:  canon compliant stories  and  AU's with complex storylines and a lot of realistic background, but also domestic every day life with a bit of sex to spice it up once in a while.

Something way out of my comfort zone would be Dom/Sub or hard sex kinks and I never translated  that.

But I do translate fluff, angst and sex of course, though I was quite nervous when I posted my first sex scene. It's not always easy to find the proper words to transport the vibe of the situation into another language and I never wanted it to just be vulgar. Since May 2017 I have the wonderful @klaine-rants as a beta and it makes things much much easier when you have someone to discuss it with.

Is there anything you avoid that's particularly hard?

It's particularly hard to translate wordplays or puns though up to date I always managed to find a  German equivalent (*knock on wood*). What I completely avoid are topics that include a lot of technical terms or specialized phrases from businesses or branches I know nothing about. Like I really enjoyed 'The Sweet DREAMers' Verse'  by @perryavenue    about undocumented immigrants but I don't think I could properly translate all those specific terms concerning the administration laws, regulations or institutions. I had a very interesting conversation with her concerning US immigrants politics vs European/German  including WW II but still I'd never dare to translate it. Same goes for @adiwriting‘s 'A Minute From The Deep End'   which deals with judicial proceedings and court trial.

What do you feel like you bring to the story?

Glee and especially Klaine have many German fans, but not everybody can read the fanfiction in English. By translating it I can share my favourite stories with many German fans who wouldn't have the opportunity to read these stories in their original language. Of course these readers aren't usually on AO3 (understandably, my stories there have not many hits) , which is why I post the translations on www.fanfiktion.de , too. It is the German equivalent of AO3 and my name there is Klaineship https://www.fanfiktion.de/u/Klaineship as well. My translations (which are always linked to the original, as I'd like to point out) have many many hits there and lots of comments and discussion.

Sometimes there is an educational aspect as well. Particularly with my first big multi-chapter-translation of the 'Hearing Verse'  by @adiwriting I had to do a lot of research concerning Deaf Culture, Sign Language, educational issues and so on and I provided my readers with a lot of information about similarities and differences between our countries concerning Deaf Culture and Deaf Communities in footnotes after each chapter. If I hadn't translated that story I would never have learned so much about this topic (including a bit of American and German Sign Language). So I think by translating I spread a lot of information to many readers who had never been in touch with Deaf Community before (just like me).

Do you communicate with the author as you go?

Of course! If I like a story I leave kudos and if I love it I leave a comment as well and normally this is my best chance to ask for permission for translation. Only in one case have I gotten a no for an answer, usually the author is thrilled to have their story translated.

Unfortunately some authors don't answer comments in general or my request in particular, and I'll never know, if they just didn't get my request or if they really don't want the translation. So please, if you don't want it, just say so, but don't leave me with 'what if'.

When I started the big multi chapter Hearing Verse almost a year ago, I had a lot of questions concerning Deaf Communities and education of Deaf children and I communicated a lot with @adiwriting who finally even gave me access to all her spreadsheets and timelines concerning that universe.

The only reason I got a Tumblr account about a year ago was to have a better possibility to get in touch with 'my' authors. And there are some authors who even comment on my translations and leave kudos there wich is the greatest praise I could ask for. Thanks to all of you. You are the best!

But unfortunately there are also some authors who not even link their work back to my translation although they get a notification from AO3 as soon as I post. Of course I know that they are not obligated to do so, but they ask me to link my work and I always do and I would truely appreciate if they linked it back as well, so that potential readers see that there is a German version available.

[23wildestdreams]

1989 came out when I was in college. I finally found the friends I was meant to have and the ones who were always there for me. This new sound was an absolute dream and I became obsessed with everything Polaroid, floral and artwork related. This album brought me so much joy. This was when I started to paint. When I stated to see beautiful moments in life. I still remember buying this album and being so excited and about the polaroids inside, the deluxe songs and just how much love was poured into it. I never thought there’d be an album like this from Taylor and I’ll never forget freaking out on the bus hearing it all for the first time and reading the prologue to the album. When I attended the 1989 tour I was pregnant with my little girl. I was only pregnant for two months then but it was still my daughters first ever Taylor concert!! This was also the first era I felt truly connected to Taylor through tumblr and how much she started being here with us. She followed me in December of 2014 and I still can’t really get it.

Reputation was released when I first started getting help for my depression, anxiety and my ED. The summer before it was released I was admitted into the hospital for my mental health when I finally admitted I needed help. Through that the perception of me as a person changed. People saw me differently and thought I wasn’t me. When reputation came out I was completely shocked because I realized I needed to take back my reputation and who I was as a person as well. I wasn’t weak because I struggled. I was strong for standing up for myself and reaching out for help. Reclaiming who I was and reflecting on what I needed to do in my life. I became bigger and stronger than I ever though and I needed reputation to help me discover that. This era was a roller coaster of emotions for me. Especially when I got invited to the secret sessions in LA. I STILL can’t believe that even happen and I wish I could have went so badly - but at the time I was a single mom, a student, working and it was extremely hard to juggle everything. I wanted to go so badly and it breaks my heart still.. but I know that what is meant to be will be and that I will be able to thank Taylor one day ✨ ALSO I’m a crazy fan because I couldn’t attend rep tour Seattle due to transportation but I bought a ticket anyway because I wanted to support it in some way.

Now that lover is coming out, in a time in my life where I am so in tune with my mind and feeling so much love/positivity it couldn’t be more fitting. I’m learning to love myself more everyday and I’ve been in recovery for my ED since last November. I’ve been doing better than I ever was and I’m so excited to have the lover album to shine all that positivity through. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. Thank for opening your heart so I could open up mine and see the beauty in this life. @taylorswift

Taylor, I’ve been wanting to explain somehow to you how you’ve helped me throughout my life and this is the only way I know how… every album you’ve written has created the beautiful memories in my life. They’ve all helped me in certain ways and I can’t imagine my life without these songs or without you. I love you soooo much. I wouldn’t be here or who I am today without you. @taylorswift

Taylor Swift came out when I was twelve. It all started when my dad told me about a song called tied together with a smile. He said I needed to hear it. During that time I felt really alone. I didn’t feel pretty or included.. I was being bullied and when I found Taylor I felt less alone. She reminded me so much of myself, right down to the poofy blonde hair. I loved to sing as well and having her songs to sing to helped me so much.

Fearless came out when I first started high-school and damn did I need that. I was fourteen when I heard fifteen and I would remember crying to that song in my room. I would sing you’re not sorry to silly boys who broke my heart and girls who would knock me down. I sang the best day for my mom and change on Canada Day at a local mall. This was the first time I felt free to be myself. I was so surprised of how fearless and loving you were Taylor. It made me open my heart and showed me how to be a kind, humble, caring person.

Speak now was released when I was in grade ten. I was always called loud, annoying. There were days when I would eat in the bathroom.. but this year was the year I stood up to my bullies. I spoke up about my friend being thrown under the bus and then stood up for my character. It was the hardest point for me in high school, but I finally told my bullies that I will stand up for myself and I won’t apologize to them because I know what’s right. This was also the first era I ever saw Taylor in concert.. the speak now tour was an absolute dream and sparks fly will always have a space in my heart for being the first song I ever heard her sing live.

[gerec]

Fandom Rant Incoming

Legit I feel like I’ve been transported back in time to 2014, after Days of Future Past just came out because I’m seeing the EXACT SAME BULLSHIT happening now that happened then. 

Here’s me giving zero fucks.

TWICE in less than ten hours I’ve seen an anon ask sent to a popular writer’s blog with the same message - ‘There’s Xavierine all over my blog, why do people ship them I don’t understand??? Where’s the Cherik love?’ Where’s the Cherik love? Are you shitting me? Are you really fucking for real here? Because Cherik is THE guarantuan ship in this fandom and has been since at least the days of XMFC, and there are like TEN people total that ship Xavierine so I have no idea where this is coming from. Last I checked there’s 11,000+ Cherik fan works on AO3 alone, not to mention all the content all over tumblr with fanart and gifsets and snippets and headcanons.

‘Oh but I’m not doing anything bad, I just sent an innocent ask about my favorite ship’ - NO. You sent an anonymous ask to a blog with a guaranteed wide audience, to try and get that kind person to agree with you that Xavierine sucks and to validate Cherik as the ultimate OTP. Does that make you feel better? To trash what other people love? Because let’s not kid ourselves you ‘hate’ that ship because it’s all about Cherik for you, so other people shouldn’t be ‘flooding tumblr’ with content you don’t like right? We shouldn’t feel free to enjoy Charles (or Erik) with other pairings and enjoy the slight bump in popularity that’s happening right now because we finally got some good material to play with? 

You might wonder why I’m ranting about this, and I’ll happily say now what I said back in 2014:

If YOU don’t like Xavierine or any other non-Cherik ship you can EASILY blacklist or unfollow or block the content. Poof, the problem goes away. But I CANNOT get away from your passive aggressive bullshit unless I unfollow all of my favorite Cherik blogs, because you’re spamming them with your needy asks about how ‘not enough people are doing this thing that you love omg horror’. 

Do kindly fuck off.

[yesthisisemma]

Kalafina Ask meme answers!!

Hello! I'm Emma (nice to meet you) and these are my answers! Thank you to @kalafinaquips / @sharkafina for creating this I've always wanted a Kalafina ask meme to exist >_< And thank you to @putschki1969 and @auctumnitas for sending me numbers!! I know I'm not super active on Tumblr but please enjoy my responses! 1) First Kalafina song? That would be Magia, as I first heard it on PMMM~ fell in love immediately, but I wasn't into Kalafina as a group until about a year later. 
6) Favorite Kalafina B-side? I love Koibito and Gloria, but my favorite is Utsukushisa, the B-side for the Progressive single.... I feel like I'm transported to a different world when I listen to it... it's lovely! I highly recommend it, definitely in my top 10 ^^ 
8) Favorite Kalafina look/attire? Oh boy, that's a toughie. The dresses they wore recently for the last couple of Christmas concerts totally blew me away. Other than that, I've always loved the outfits they wore for the After Eden album cover/the Symphonia PV. And the colorful set they had for the middle of the Far on the Water Live Tour! <3 9) Own any piece of merch? Unfortunately, as of right now I do not :( However, (#10) I do own almost all of their music either digitally or physically on disc! For Christmas, I got the Believe single CD (In Every Nothing and Lapis FTW) and the 8th anniversary live 2014 CD as well. Woop woop Have you ever… 11) Attended a Kalafina live? (If so, how many?) It is my ultimate dream to go see Kalafina live someday. If only they would come to America again.... particularly on the eastern side, as I live in Virginia and have no way of getting to California •_• 
 12) Watched any of the shows/movies they have performed for?
Yes!! I love to watch their live performances. Please take me there lol 
 15) Traveled out of your country for a Kalafina concert? Nopety nope, last time I was out of the country was when I was 2 and I went to Canada : ) 
 16) Talked about Kalafina with someone else (other than the fans)? I talk about Kalafina quite frequently with my sister Abby, who must undergo my ramblings and try to stay sane as I talk forever and ever about the latest news with the girls I care so much about ^^ (sorry Abby!!! Love you to death I swear) Random Kalafina questions: 17) What’s your favorite fact about Kalafina? I have so many!! I really love how they were assembled piecemeal by Yuki Kajiura and it wasn't like they were all together right away! I also love reading about their different backgrounds, and the struggles they have overcome. Wakana is my favorite success story ^^ 18) Do you have any ships? (Which one if so) I ship them all with me???? Hahahahahahahaha totally not kidding but for real I ship them all platonically I will be answering all of the questions from this section :> Name a Kalafina song that… 21) You love Um all of them. But to name one Kimi no Gin no Niwa has always held a special place in my heart 
22) You never get tired of Destination Unknown...!!!! 
 23) Makes you cry Must admit I've gotten misty-eyed listening to Symphonia on more than one occasion, as well as Alleluia, Kimi no Gin and Hikarifuru. 
 24) Makes your day a whole lot better For some reason, I get a huge burst of energy when I listen to Blaze haha. Destination Unknown has the same effect on me, but honestly, different songs affect me differently at different times. One day I might say "yeah this song is cool I guess" and then the next day my life is transformed by the same song lol. Right now my jam is Love Come Down. 
 25) You used to dislike but now love to death That would be Te to Te to Me to Me. I can't get enough of it now '_' 
 26) You listened to over and over until you got fed up :p To the Beginning!! I learned my lesson after that and I try to space out my song listenings among different days 
27) Can transport you to another different world with its beauty -Kimi ga Hikari ni Kaeteiku -Utsukushisa (every time) -Lapis, In Every Nothing -Destination Unknown (again sorry) -Symphonia -Anything from Madoka Magica (Magia, Kimi no Gin, etc.) -All of the Overtures and such. Al Fine in particular I love that 
 28) Inspires you to be creative *see listed above ^^* anything that gets me in "the mood" if you know what I mean. What Kalafina member would you choose to: 29) Go shopping? I really love Wakana's style, I feel like she's very classy but cute are the same time. But Keiko would be fun too. 
 31) Show her around your hometown? I think Hikaru would be the one to appreciate my hometown the most ^^ She's very poetic so I think she would see the beauty I see in it. 

43) Go to Disneyland/world? Please just send me to Disney with any one of them, I swear I will be happy -~- (Keiko cough) 
 47) Help you with homework/tests?
 Hikaru reads a lot so maybe her. 
49) Go to a concert? I want to go to THEIR concerts lololol 
 And that's it for me today!! I will probably do more numbers in the future :)

[haveyahurd]

Blog Post- Why am I a Feminist?

[Today in class, one of the groups that presented posed the question, “why are you a feminist?” My immediate response in my head was, “it’s no question. Of course, I’m a feminist. Why wouldn’t I be?” Then I paused and took a step back. I really asked myself the question. “Why am I a feminist? How did I become one?” The origins of my feminist ideology whisked back to me, and for a brief period of time I was transported back to when feminism was first introduced to me.

My feminist identity was solidified when I was 18 and listened to actor Emma Watson’s UN speech on feminism she gave in 2014. Watson was gentle with her words. She wasn’t aggressive or hateful in any way. She made feminism appear as logical and natural as drinking water to survive. Simply put, Watson claimed, “If you stand for equality, then you’re a feminist” (Watson, 2014).  

Before this, the majority of my feminism experience came from Tumblr. Although Tumblr helped open my eyes to gender inequality issues, I didn’t quite feel like I could fully be a part of Tumblr feminism. Tumblr feminists were aggressive, sarcastic, and vulgar. They got their points across, but I felt like I wasn’t bold enough to be that kind of feminist. Through her contrasting tone and the professional setting in which she spoke, Watson showed me that anyone can, and should, be a feminist, no matter your personality. Slowly, I began to combine my perceptions of feminism until it fit for me in ideas and practice.

A 2016 poll by Weiyi Cai and Scott Clement for the Washington Post found that about 60 percent of American women consider themselves a feminist. To my surprise, women ages 50-64 had the highest percentage of feminists, even more that the 18-34 age group. Women ages 35-49 had the least number of feminists at just 51 percent (Cai & Clement, 2016). The study did not speculate about the origin of the low number for that age group. Perhaps it was due to the way people in that age group were raised.

Regardless, I can’t help but wonder why about 40 percent of women do not claim to be feminists. The main reasons I see are misunderstandings about the definition of feminism as well as a fear of being associated with “the ranks of women whose expressions are seen as too strong, too aggressive, isolating, and anti-men. Unattractive, even” (Watson, 2014). In a world where women are inherently considered more valuable based on their poise and looks, I can understand this point of view. However, I think it is essential for women to begin to see themselves as more than their appearance, thus helping to re-shape the culture. True change will come when women as a whole demand respect and equality. In my opinion, 60 percent of women who are feminists is not enough.

I’m a feminist because I believe that women deserve the same treatment as men. We have spent far too long being considered lesser in the minds of men, and consequentially, in our own minds.  

Watson, E. [United Nations]. (2014, Sept. 22). Emma Watson at the HeForShe Campaign 2014 - Official UN Video [Video file]. Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gkjW9PZBRfk

Cai, W. & Clement, S. (2016). What Americans think about feminism today. Retrieved from https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/national/feminism-project/poll/

[dandelliongirl]

2019!!!

The year of ME

It’s the 2nd of January and oh boy did December just fly by. I’m sad to be taking down my Christmas tree in a few days..

The last few weeks of work were busy but a lot of fun. We had so many Christmas parties that we barely had enough time for all the meetings and other work. We also got to leave early on Friday the 21st, which was super nice. I went home to my parents on the evening of the 22nd after some much needed me-time and building a cozy Christmas house in the Sims 4. On the 23rd me and mum drove through a literal winter wonderland with trees sugarcoated in fresh snow to visit grandmum, grandpa and my uncle. We helped grandmum with her Christmas cooking and spent a few hours over there before driving back home listening to Christmas music. Grandmum gave me new mittens with flowers and pearls in them that she’s made, and money to go and buy myself a piano book. ♥

The 24th was spent traditionally. I woke up early to watch Christmas cartoons, we had rice porrige for breakfast and went to light up candles at the graveyards. This time I left a candle for my godfather as well.♥ Then it was time for Christmas sauna, although mum couldn’t go (or didn’t want to go?) because her surgery scars are still pretty fresh. It breaks my heart to see her go into the bedroom and close the door and be careful nobody sees her. I hope it’s just because she doesn’t want me to see and it isn’t actually as big of a deal for her but it must be pretty intense having your body go through such changes nonetheless.. After sauna we had a delicious meal (reindeer, parsnip puré, sweet potato fries, beetroot casserole and gravy, with panna cotta for dessert), watched From all of us to all of you (as is tradition) and handed out presents. I got a new set of pajamas, mittens, a giftcard for a pedicure, a giftcard for clothes and a painting (although it’s more like a framed paper cutout craft). Me and my boyfriend also got a present together. Mum and dad really liked their presents as well. I can’t remember if I wrote about them already but I got mum some pajama pants, a new Sauna seat cloth, a shower gel and a hand cream. Dad got a sweater and a Star Wars workout shirt. Both of them got some tea and for our summer house I got a sauna headrest, a book about natural herbs and a bird book.

On the 25th me and dad visited my other grandmum and cousins and had a Christmas lunch with them. My twin cousins are going to start their military service in a few days, which is incredible.. In the evening mum and I went for a long walk and we made pizza for dinner.

On the 26th I went xc-skiing with dad for the first time this winter and it was a lot of fun. I did 6-ish kilometers on my first run this year, which is really motivating. Back in the day 5 km was not even a consideration and now I did it on my first run of the season! Other than that we spent our days until the 27th chilling together and being cozy. It was much needed and so very nice.

My new sleeping cottage was supposed to be delivered to our summer house before Christmas but the truck that was supposed to transport it broke down. Then it was supposed to be loaded up and delivered on the 27th but turns out it was too big to be transported without a permit so I still don’t have it. I hope it gets here soon, it’s been snowing nonstop and it’ll be impossible to transport it in this weather.. I’ve already planned out the layout and furnishings, and even bought a sheephide from my sheep farmer colleague for the main living space. I want it to be spring already!

On the 27th both me and my guy came back to the apartment. He opened my present and I opened my new pair of knit wool socks from his grandpa. My parents got us two board versions of escape room games. We played our first round of The Captain is Dead with little success but it was a lot of fun anyway. On the 28th we went shopping and helped our friend find new frames for new glasses. She came over to try The Captain is Dead with us but we still didn’t win the game. On the 29th I met up with my ballet friends for some frozen pizzas and long chats. It was amazing to see them again since one is in London and the other two have moved across the country. I’m so proud of us for staying in touch since it would be really easy to drift apart now that we don’t go to class together anymore. Every last Friday of the month we tell each other how we’re doing and occasionally message each other in-between.

The 30th of December was spent playing Mass Effect Andromeda with my guy, and for New Years Eve two of our friends came over to make pizza, play Cards Against Humanity, go watch fireworks, play The Captain is Dead (AND finally beat it!) and play The Ultimate Chicken Horse until 4am. We all slept in until past midday on the 1st, my friend left and me and my guy started the Witcher 3 (finally). He’s playing it on my PC because I can’t be bothered to care for Geralt too much as a character and also the game is really graphic for my tastes. I’m reserving the rights to change my opinion on these two points as the game goes on however.

Now that I’m all caught up it’s time for the usual New Years sap. 2018 was a really hard year for me but DAMN if I didn’t SMASH all my goals and achieve so much. I aced my MA thesis and GRADUATED, I found out I passed JLPT N2, I was ASKED for my dream job without even applying for it, I spent 3 AMAZING weeks travelling around Japan and got to cross off Sanrio Puroland from my bucket list. It was the warmest summer since 2014 and I got to spend so much time with mum and dad at our summer house. I got to start a new hobby and tried lots of new things in 2018. Looking at my passion planner from 2015 all my 3 year goals have been achieved and I am so incredibly proud of myself for it. So what about 2019 then?

2019 will be a year to continue the process of reinvention, reassessing and reprioritizing that I was sort of forced to start in 2018 with a new stage in life. That also came with a total lifestyle rebranding in what I eat, what I wear and what I want from my future. 2019 is also a year to dream big and start working towards those dreams. My successes up until now have given me confidence to know that I can achieve any goals, hopes and dreams I set for myself (as long as they’re somewhat realistic).

Being happy and having time to relax are so much easier now that I have a job and I feel like things are exactly the way they’re supposed to be. That also comes with a creeping fear of stagnation, which is why in 2019 I’d like to spend time learning new skills (namely improving my photography and piano) and reading/listening to books and podcasts to keep on learning now that I’m not actively studying anymore. I’d hate to come home from work and waste away on the sofa day after day. In addition to learning new skills and keeping my mind and body occupied I’m going to pay more attention on body conditioning and increasing my flexibility. I finally bought myself a foam roller (a really expensive one at that!) and it’s been worth every cent. I’ve also been following stretching routines and hopefully this spring I could go to a yoga or Body Balance class more often. Another obvious goal is to continue on my fitness path and it is really motivating now that I’ve actually seen results from my diet change in 2018 as well as from starting Body Combat. In more ways than one I feel like 2019 will be my year to relax and spend time on things that matter to me. I’m excited. ☼

So the Tumblr exodus of December 17th 2018 happened and my blog seems largely unaffected. Regardless I’m glad to have a backup of my diary posts just in case. Seems like these random occasional diary posts will continue for now. I’m trying to stick to a minimum of once a month but we’ll see. I’m not going to guilt myself over it since going through my old blog posts I literally wrote which homework I did and on what day. Yes, I know it was mainly to keep myself accountable but still I feel like even though these longer recap posts take hours to write and I might miss important memories or other details the contents are much more relevant than what I ate and which part of the syllabus I revised on what day. Heh.

Happy 2019 - hope it brings relief to the world and success to all the deserving, kind and friendly people. ♥

[mylovingbouquetearthquakewo-blog]

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I know that this is a vague question, but I was just curious as to what the average amount would be? I'm 16 years old about to be a new driver. I have a used red 2000 Jeep Cherokee if that matters. I'm female and live in Rhode Island.""

Do I qualify for federal health insurance?

My parents don't get insurance through their jobs, and they can't afford private insurance. My parents and I are currently enrolled in an assistance program through our local hospital. I go to a private university that requires for students to have some type of health insurance. If the student doesn't have health insurance, the school charges the student $1,000 for the school insurance. Since I am 19 years old, I no longer qualify for CHIPS, which I've had all my life. I am a full time student, I am a U.S. citizen, I am in Texas, my parents are low income, I don't have proof of a job (I'm a nanny and get paid in cash). Online resources are confusing. But is there any federal insurance program that I may be eligible for?""

Insurance when buying 1st car?

How do i go about buying a car (private or dealer) without insurance to test drive it 1st, as i'll only get insurance once i know what car i will have (i live in the UK).""

Fair insurance for 03CBR600RR?

progressive. 170 a month. average liability coverage and collision and theft protection. im 19 and in the Military...have not taken the MSF course i know this will lower the cost. but interested to know if this is about the average price thank you

How Can a 17 Year old Teen Afford Car Insurance?

I am a 17 year old guy working on getting my first car. I was thinking possibly a 2000 Pontiac Sunfire, or a 2006 Saturn Ion. I had looked up a few quotes from Progressive and Esurance, and noticed that the semi-annual price was VERY high, way beyond anything my family could afford. I was wondering If anyone knew of a way that I could possibly afford this. Many of the quotes totaled at $800-$1000 per six months. This is outrageously high, and that was just insurance for an adult I had quoted. Adding a teen onto the insurance would be much more expensive. If anyone has any ideas on what I can do to cheat the system per say, or just find a nice and cheap affordable, reliable insurance company I'd be extremely grateful.""

Can I be reimbursed for birth control paid for after Affordable Care Act took effect?

After paying my co pay for birth control for about a year, I finally asked my pharmacist what he knew about the Affordable Care Act. He ran my insurance and found out that I was eligible for free birth control. Is there any way for me to be reimbursed for the birth control that I paid for after the Affordable Care Act became effective?""

If I get car insurance will my parents' rates go up?

If I get my own car insurance with my own policy from a completely different insurance company than my parents', but use the same address, would that cause my parents' rates to go up?""

How will the Affordable Care Act help the self-employed?

While I have been examining the Affordable Care Act from the employer's side (I work in HR), I haven't put much time into how it helps individuals. My brother is married and self-employed. He has no employees. His wife is currently a full-time student. Neither of them currently have health insurance because it is too expensive. They are in their 20s and are both healthy. What type of health insurance options are going to come available to them with the passing of the Affordable Care Act? What is the time frame on this? (I know I read something about the State Pools starting in 2014 but surely there is some relief sooner).""

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cheap jeep insurance

What car insurance company would you recommend?

Yeah im 20 years of age and im just going to get my license. Yeah i know...why did i wait so late. But now i want to know what car insurance company would be good. I don't have a huge budget to spend but i do need insurance. HELP ME OUT...

""Does anyone know of an auto insurance provider that does not require a credit check in Vancouver, WA?

I switched from Progressive to Allstate online about a month ago. I started the policy and paid the premium. Now I get a letter from Allstate saying they are unable to carry a policy for me due to my poor credit. I'm angry and totally disagree with my credit score having anything to do with my driving ability. I refuse to do business with any company that uses a credit score to determine auto insurance rates or availability.

How much will my car insurance drop when i turn 25?

How much will my car insurance drop when i turn 25?

How much does car insurance cost in England?

I'm not used to private insurance companies with differing rates! Here are the details: - If I had an older, smallish car, say that cost 900 pounds - No spots on my driving record, been driving for 10 years, *but* - I've just moved to England from Canada - I want full coverage, 3rd party, fire and theft Any advice on who is more, or less, expensive?""

Car insurance price for 17 year old?

I've got 2 questions cropped into 1 1st question, im looking to buy a Ford Fiesta HOPEFULLY after i pass my driving test. Ford Fiesta 1.2-1.6 litres. 2004-2006 model. Insurance price to a new 17 year old male driver living in northwest london where not much vandalism/problems occur compared to other towns. Car will be on off road parking overnight. Whats the approximate insurance price im looking at? 2nd question being that if anyone had recently taken the theory test. Is it hard? Easy? Thanks in advance""

Bike insurance vs car insurance?

im 18 years old currently going after my A2 restricted licence and drivers licence, what i dont get is why a 27 year old 1.6L car will cost me 5,500 a year to insure while a 1.6L cruiser bike will only cost me 512 a year

Cheepest land rover defender insurance for young drivers?

Any ideas, companies past experience would be much appreciated""

Wont be able to pay rent and car insurance this week?

i mismanaged my money and now im in a dilemma.i get paid on the 6th. but wont have enough money to pay rent and car insurance. i have three choices. 1)pay my car insurance and be late with rent just pay it on the 20th.. late fee is $75. 2. pay rent and let car insurance cancel for a week. which i really don't wanna do since i don't know the consequences. i am financing a car. 3) pay rent and pay car insurance with savings account. but the funds wont be available until the next week. but the banks will try to process this over and over again.

Can your auto insurance increase after you already got a quote and pay downpayment?

my auto insurance already gave me a quote and check my license everything and offer me 1800 for 6months then after july the agent called and said the underwrite said to increase the quote to 2200? can your insurance do that? after you already paid down payment? thanks

Im looking for car insurance?

coverage for individuals who are less able to afford auto insurance

Car Insurance rip off?

Just a warning anyone thinking of taking out car insurance or renewing their car insurance with the AA check with many other companies first, the quote they have just given me is DOUBLE that of any other like (Direct line,LV,Barclays ect ect) the AA are brokers and the insurance they offered is supposed to be the cheapest they could fined from LV and when I went on the LV web site to get a quote it was half that the AA had quoted.""

Auto insurance involuntarily cancelled?

I got a new auto insurance begining June. And I had an hail damage and hit and run case towards the end of June. On July 30 there was an accident, other person involved was at fault as he rear-ended my car. I reported all these occurances. I get a involuntary cancellation of the auto insurance policy after a couple of days. They sent me this notice and also made me aware of the right to dispute this with the State commisoner for Insurance. Now, when I go shopping for new insurance, I get an increased premium quote. None of the reported claims are my fault and I do not know if I have to dispute this case with the commisioner for insurance or not and not sure how much money I have to spend towards it. Please advice what to do in this situation, thank you in advance.""

Where is the cheapest place to get renters insurance?

My land lord is requiring everyone to get renters insurance now so im just looking for the cheapest most basic insurance I can get.

What is the most affordable life insurance in japan?

What is the most affordable life insurance in japan?

""Your credit rating can affect how much you pay for renters insurance,if so explain thoroughly.?""

Your credit rating can affect how much you pay for renters insurance,if so explain thoroughly.?""

Health insurance for 1099?

I am forming a corporation that will bring on several 1099 contractors as consultants, almost like a consortium of consultants. I'd like to offer them group health insurance. is this possible given that they are all 1099 contractors?""

""I got into a car accident with my new car before i could get insurance, help?""

I just recently bought a 66 mustang from a private seller. My mechanic took a look at it and said it was good. I went to go pick up the car from the seller, and while driving home, 15 minutes into my drive the breaks gave out. I ended up hitting a UPS truck. My passenger and i ended up going to the hospital for injuries. I did not have insurance since i was just going to drive the car home and not drive it until i got full coverage on it. The previous owner still has insurance on the car, and i have not been to the dmv to have the title officially signed over. I need help; legal advice would be great.""

Why are there so many car insurance ads on SKY?

really ruins the mood when watching say MTV or Bravo! Is Car Insurance and Debt Busting Loans the only thing worth selling????

Car insurance is it sexist?

why is car insurance cheaper for woman ?i know lots of woman say there safer drivers but i dont think thats always the case

How much do you guys pay for Honda S2000 car insurance?

I got a quote for 490 for 6 months. Full coverage from state farm for a 04 Honda s2000. Is this good?

Car Insurance Honda Civic coupe vs sedan?

So I'm looking into buying a car. I'm 20 and I'm under my dads insurance. I pay 60 for being a secondary drivers for my dads van, but I want to get my own car. Would it be more if I got a black Honda civic coupe rather than a sedan?""

Cannot get any fr44 insurance?

every insurance company says I need to give $4500 down as a lump sum because of my driving record... any advise im in florida DUI, PIP claim, 2 speeding tickets""

What are the best health insurance plans in Massachusetts?

for individuals available through the Mass Health Connector?

How much is my car payment and insurance?

Hey, everyone else is asking the same 2 stupid questions, now it's my turn!""

Only eligible for group insurance?

My husband is only eligible for group insurance due to multiple injuries/surgeries obtained from playing sports. His employer does not provide benefits, nor does mine. I was able to get insurance privately, but they refused him. What else can we do?""

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cheap jeep insurance

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