#let's pretend that's the seats for sd.

[juliettecs]

then she said, i like your confidence, but you're not the 1975

[kpop-kitkat]

I Wish, I Wish | Park Sunghoon

pairing | best friend!park sunghoon x f!reader

genre/cw | angst, fluff, explicit language, heated argument, crying, clouded judgement, best friends to lovers, happy ending

wc | 1.7k

notes | I felt a bit rushed when writing this, but I think it turned out okay…? Idk.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Sunghoon smiled to himself as he listened back to his music sample. He never thought he’d be writing a love song about him and his best friend, but here he was.

Sunghoon had been best friends with Y/n since the two were in kindergarten. They knew every little thing about each other. In fact, the only secret Sunghoon was keeping from her was the song he was writing. They did everything together, always teamed up with each other, and never stopped supporting each other. Of course no friendship was perfect, they had their disagreements and such. But they always made up in the end. Everyone wanted a friendship like theirs.

Music filled the room as Sunghoon worked on his song. It was a simple piano song, but there was a lot of meaning behind his lyrics. He wasn’t one for writing songs, so Y/n was really something special if he was going to write a song for her. There was only one thing he was worried about. If the producer liked Sunghoon’s song, he might want him to make his debut as a soloist; that wasn’t a problem. But if the song was published, ENGENE might get suspicious and discover that his song is actually directed towards a certain person.

His beautiful music was interrupted by ringing of his phone. But he smiled when he saw he was getting a call from Y/n. He quickly pressed answer and brought the phone to his ear, quickly pausing his music.

”Hey bestie,” he greeted.

”Hey Hoon. My parents are going to be out of town for the next week, and you know I don’t like staying alone… do you think I could-“

“Stay over here for the week? Of course you can.”

”Really? Thanks.”

”Don’t mention it. Come over whenever, I’ve got nothing going on.”

”Alright. See you then.”

”Buh-bye.”

”Bye.”

He hung up with that smile still on his face. But when realization hit, he quickly cleared the notes off of his desk and quickly transferred his music onto an SD card and put it behind his computer, hopefully somewhere Y/n wouldn’t think to look. I mean, what would she be looking for anyway?

Y/n opened the door to Sunghoon’s house without even knocking. At this point, they never did at each other’s houses. She quickly ran up the stairs to Sunghoon’s room and flung the door open, tossing her things onto his bed.

”Wow, you got here quick,” he chuckled.

”Yep,” she replied, hopping onto his bed beside her things. 

The atmosphere suddenly went quiet as they just stared at each other, not knowing what to do next. They had gotten a little too comfortable around each other to be honest. 

There was tension in the air, and they both knew it. And trying to pretend that last night didn’t happen, was failing horribly. Y/n sighed and looked at the floor.

”Don’t say it,” she threatened.

”I wasn’t going to,” Sunghoon defended. But he didn’t keep his word. “You shouldn’t have gone to that party last night,” he reasoned.

”Hoon, I love you, you’re my best friend. But you’re way too overprotective and controlling over my life. If I want to kiss a guy, I’ll kiss a guy. If I want to get drunk, I’ll get drunk. If I want to-“

”I hear you Y/n,” he rolled his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t want you to be with another- I-I mean, a guy. Fuck, do whatever you want,” he laughed bitterly, and it didn’t go unnoticed by Y/n. “I was just trying to protect you, you need to understand.”

”Well, I don’t! What exactly are you protecting me from?” she stood up with hands on her hips.

”Y/n…”

”No Hoon, I want an answer,” she demanded, letting her emotions consume her. She sighed yet again when she didn’t get an answer out of him. “It’s almost as if… as if you were in love with me,” she said, taking a seat on the floor. 

“I’m not! I’m not!” he immediately protested. 

That’s exactly what she wanted to hear, but at the same time, it wasn’t. It hurt a little hearing your crush didn’t reciprocate your feelings. She only stared at him blankly, having no words coming to mind. She sighed, and closed her eyes.

”Then… then why do you, care so much about my love life?” she wondered, as Sunghoon thought of an answer.

”I don’t care about your love life,” he simply stated.

”You fucking liar!” she yelled, getting pushed over the edge.

“Y/n stop.”

”No!” she replied, looking around for something to threaten to destroy. 

She caught glimpse of a SD card. She quickly snatched it.

”Tell me Park Sunghoon, or this is going in the dirt!” she warned, glancing to the open window which was one story above the backyard which was soaked in the afternoon rain.

”No please!” he begged, not wanting Y/n to destroy the one thing that he had worked so hard on. 

Sunghoon knew he wanted to tell her how he felt at some point, but he thought this was just too soon.

“Tell me!” she demanded, tears pricking her eyes. 

Truth untold, Sunghoon had always been a rather protective best friend. Y/n never expressed her annoyance towards this behavior of his, she was too scared. But up until this point, she had held it in for too long. She needed to know. Did he really love her back? Or was he just being an ass? Did she really make him jealous like she had planned all along?

Sunghoon took too long to answer, resulting in his SD card being tossed out of the window.

”No!” he exclaimed, quickly exiting the room and running down the stairs, Y/n hesitantly trailing behind him.

He panicked as he searched for the SD card in the pouring rain. His hands were all muddied as he frantically tried to find his music.

”No,” he whispered to himself.

Y/n would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a twinge of guilt in her heart. Like always, she had managed to let her feelings overcome her mind. That’s one thing she hated about herself.

”What was so important about that card anyway?” she scoffed.

”You don’t understand,” he snapped, trying to ignore her the best he could.

”Exactly! That’s why I’m asking!” 

He sighed heavily before abruptly standing to his feet and turning to face the girl, his anger boiling over, and his fists clenched.

”It’s a love song! Okay?!” he admitted, taking Y/n by surprise. “It’s a love song that I wrote… for you, Y/n.”

She could hardly process his words, only managing to give him a confused look.

”I… I lied. I do care about your love life, very much. And to answer your question, I care about it because, I wish I was apart of it. I wish I was the one you kissed at parties. I wish I was the one who you held hands with in the school halls. I wish… you were mine,” he ranted, barely able to stand on his shaky legs due to his very strong emotions and vulnerability.

Y/n was at a loss for words. Thankfully actions spoke louder. She walked through the cold rain and took his muddy hands in hers, making him look into her eyes. The rain made everything more difficult, but at the same time, so magical. 

“I wish that you would have realized sooner that I feel the same way,” she gave him a sad smile, her throat still hoarse from yelling. 

He chuckled, trying to ease the tension and confusion, causing her to laugh along as well. 

He brought her into a warm hug as they rocked side to side.

”I love you Sunghoon, and I’m sorry for yelling, I just get so emotional,” she apologized, slightly embarrassed.

”Don’t be, I know how you get. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten, haven’t we?” he smiled.

”Do you love me back?” she teased.

”Of course I do Y/n,” he rolled his eyes.

”Say it then.”

”I love you,” he giggled, touching his nose to hers.

Just then, the SD card was seen sitting atop the rose bushes that outlined the house. He grabbed it and held it close to his heart. Then, the terrifying sound of thunder roaring stole their attention.

”Oh shit,” Sunghoon cursed under his breath, quickly grabbing Y/n’s hand and leading her back inside the house.

He made sure to close the screen door and wipe up the mud the two dragged in. He sighed in relief when he realized his mother wasn’t home to scold him for it.

”Hoon,” Y/n called out with a shaky breath. “I’m cold,” she shivered.

”My room,” he tilted his head.

They both quickly ascended the stairs to his room. Once behind the closed door, Sunghoon through a blanket at Y/n, which she accepted gratefully.

”Thanks,” she smiled.

He nodded and then grabbed a towel hanging on his bathroom door to dry off the SD card. Afterwards, he plugged it into his computer to see if it still worked. He played the song for about two seconds, and confirmed that it worked. He would’ve played the entire song, but he wanted to surprise Y/n with it when it was finalized.

”Hoon,” Y/n pouted.

”Mmm?” he bummed in response.

”I’m still cold.”

He shook his head and smiled before going over to her and hugging her.

”Better?”

”Still cold.”

He decided to lay down on his bed, and pull her close to him, so that she was laying on his chest. 

“Now?”

”Still cold.”

Sunghoon suddenly realized what she was getting at when she kept glancing to his lips. He smirked snuggled up against her cheek, wondering when would be the right time. 

He was done wondering when he had this newfound confidence. He sat up just enough to hover over her and stare into her eyes. He slowly inched towards her face and lightly grazed his lips against hers, before fully capturing her mouth in his. Y/n’s hands were quick to get tangled in his soft, dark hair. He noticed how cold she really was, so he exchanged his saliva with hers, sharing his body heat. 

As he finally pulled away, he looked deep into her sparkling eyes. He had never seen them so close up before.

He smiled before laying on top of her, which she didn’t mind.

”Wow I thought today would go in a totally different direction,” Y/n chuckled.

”Me too Love. Me too.”

[pedros-mustache-main]

a bushel & a peck

i will never let go of sd!deaky. this takes place directly after the events in “the arrangement” (uh... not 18+ but suggestive content below whoop)

freddie tries to convince you to forgo dinner and go back to john’s house to make-up for lost time. he wiggles his eyebrows, does a suggestive move with his hips that makes you giggle into john’s chest, but you decide to stay. freddie—er, his chef—went to all the work to prepare a nice spread for dinner, and you don’t want to see it go to waste. besides, there will be plenty of time to indulge with john later.

all throughout the meal, john has his hand on your thigh. his palm simply rests there, never inches higher or trails lower, but it’s a firm reminder of just how much you missed him these last four months. his touch is electrifying. it always has been, but it’s all the more dangerous now. with every zing that courses through your arm at the nudge of his hand or every bolt of energy that stops your heart when he looks at you with such fondness, you feel yourself slipping beneath his spell.

you love him.

somewhere between dessert and an aggressive game of gin rummy, john rises from the table. he brushes his hands along his jeans then reaches for your shoulder. 

“we should get going,” he says. his eyes are soft as they look at you, but there’s an intensity there, a need, that you recognize. 

freddie slumps against the back of his chair. “oh, finally! i thought you’d never go!”

“fred!” you frown as you stand. john lifts your coat from the back of your chair and drapes it over your shoulders. you catch his eye as he slides behind you, takes your wrist, and tugs you toward the door. he smiles; you smile back. “it’s not polite to kick your guests out/”

“besides acquiring my magnificent painting, it was also my goal to put you two back together tonight.” freddies moves his finger between yourself and john, his stare both judgmental and teasing at the same time. “as soon as i succeeded, i was ready to throw supper out with the dishwater, so to speak. who cares about pot roast when you can fuck the living daylights out of one another?”

john sighs, shaking his head. “okay, fred, i think that’s enough.”

“pfft.” freddie tosses his head like a prima-donna, and you’ve never seen a movement so fitting for his personality. “we both know what you’re going home to do, deaky. don’t pretend to be such a prude.”

you’re grinning as john leads you to his car parked on the street. it’s cold out, a light snow falling from the dark sky. the white flakes glisten in the lamplight as they fall to catch in john’s curls. he must have gotten a haircut; nothing dramatic, but his curls are shorter now. you wonder how else he’s changed.

he opens the passenger door to his car, and you slide into the vehicle with ease. once seated, john turns on the engine, blasts the heater, and grabs your hand. he places your joined fingers on his knee, barely giving you a glance as he pulls into the desolate street. the glow of the dashboard illuminates the strength of his jaw, the straight line of his nose. your gaze lingers on his mouth.

one kiss. you’d only managed one kiss before freddie stormed into the dining room with a paper party horn and obnoxious cheering. the memory still tingles on your lips.

“you’re staring, love.” john’s voice breaks your thoughts, and you slip low against the seat as a wave of embarrassment washes over you. you’ve never felt like this before: vulnerable and safe and open and scared all at the same time.

this must be what love feels like, you think.

“sorry,” you whisper. you try to pull your hand from his grasp, but he holds tight and shoots you a grin.

“‘s fine. it’s nice actually. i feel like i was always the one staring.”

you have to smile at this, at the way you so artfully avoided recognizing his feelings and giving into yours. you really were an idiot. “maybe you were—always staring, i mean. i tried not to notice.”

you drive the rest of the way home in silence. it’s a comfortable silence. the windshield wipers brush off the falling snow at a steady pace, and the air from the heaters threaten to drag you beneath a thin veil of sleep. you fight to keep your eyes open, but eventually give in, especially after john turns on the radio and soft music fills the car. 

he wakes you with a nudge to the arm. “we’re home.”

you blink, yawning as you stretch. it’s only as you follow him over the threshold that his words settle on your heart. 

we’re home.

you grin, tucking your lower lip beneath your teeth. yes—you are home.

john’s house, unlike his hair, hasn’t changed at all. it’s the same, save for a rather large ding in the living room wall. you touch the paint-scraped spot and look at him for an explanation. from his place at the sideboard where he pours himself a small glass of whisky, he just shrugs.

“row with brian,” he says. “you want some?”

you shake your head and plop on the couch. the cushions mold against your body, and you give an experimental bounce. beneath you, the springs groan and squeak. you bounce again, again, like a child, but stop when john sits down next to you.

“i thought you were going to get this replaced.”

“haven’t had the time.” he takes a sip of his drink, lips curling against the immediate burn. you watch his mouth react, watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “things have been busy since... well, since we split.”

“a new album, yes?” you take the glass from his hands and take a sip of your own, right over the spot where he just drank. it’s silly; it’s childish; but drinking from the same spot he had sends a thrill to your belly. it’s like you’ve kissed him again but only through glass and alcohol.

“mhm.” he watches your lips against the rim of the glass. his tongue flicks out to lick the corner of his mouth. “the working title is ‘the miracle’ but that could change.”

you place the glass on the coffee table and move to curl your legs beneath you. you prop your arm up and reach out to tug at his shortened curls. “you got your hair cut.”

he smirks, lifting a hand to run over his head. his fingers connect with yours, and he pulls away quickly, shifting in his seat. he’s nervous; you are too.

he suggests you put on a film, and that’s fine by you. it’s enough to simply sit beside him, feel the warmth radiating off his chest. your flat has grown so cold as of late. you forgot what it felt like to be in a home—a proper, well-decorated, well-lived in home.

leaning your head against his shoulder, you snuggle against his side and mindlessly watch the television. it’s clue staring tim curry, and though you’ve already seen the film, it makes you laugh nonetheless. john runs his hand up and down your arm, his breathing steady.

“you remind me of colonel mustard.”

“i don’t know if i should take that as a compliment.”

pressing your hand against his chest, you lift yourself to meet his gaze. “oh, i mean it as a compliment. he’s forceful. he knows what he wants and he goes for it.” 

you realize then that you are precariously close to john’s mouth. in times past, you would have slipped off the couch and asked him to come and join you in the bedroom to alleviate the tension in the room. tonight—tonight, you let the tension linger. you let him stare at your face, your eyes, your lips. you want him to kiss you. you ache for him to kiss you, but you will let him make the first move. after all, this is painfully new to you. you can’t remember the last proper relationship you entertained.

john clears his throat and shuffles out of your grasp. he stands from the couch and goes to fiddle with the alcohol decanters on the sideboard. you frown.

“john?”

he repositions the glass decanters then moves them again. “huh?”

“don’t you want to kiss me?”

his wrist knocks the lid of one of the decanters off. it bangs against the sideboard, and he curses beneath his breath in his haste to right the bottle. then he looks at you and he’s all wide eyes and hunger and desperation. the movie continues in the background. the butler is running across the foyer demonstrating a possible solution to the murder. 

“[y/n], i—” he rubs the back of his neck, looking away on a sigh.

“well?” you move to your knees on the side of the couch, your palms flat against the armrest. “don’t you? you haven’t tried once since we were at fred’s.”

with a sheepish sort of glance, john cringes. “i’m afraid if i start, i won’t be able to stop.”

you roll your eyes. “we’ve shagged before, john. i figured we’d get there eventually tonight.”

“no, that’s not what i mean.” he drops his hand from behind his head and steps closer until his thighs are pressed against the couch armrest. you tilt your head back to look at him. he’s so tall like this, hovering over you with equal parts ravenous desire and careful patience. he skims his fingertips along the column of your neck. “i have imagined kissing you in thousands of different ways, in hundreds of different places. if i start now, i will kiss you until your lips beg for relief.”

“fuck,” you breathe. your grip tightens on the armrest. 

“ever since we made our arrangement, i have wanted to kiss you.” he swallows, eyes holding on your mouth. “i held back for your sake, but now? just knowing i can...” he lowers himself to his knees, his thumb dragging your lower lip down. 

you blink. your mind is blank, an empty canvas waiting for him to fill it with the markings of his love.

john swallows hard, and his eyes flick to yours. “do you know how often i’ve thought of this? i felt like an idiot, going to bed some nights and just dreaming about your lips on mine. how could something so simple be so important?”

you shake your head, speechless. “i don’t know...”

he continues. “other guys, i bet they went to bed and rubbed one out thinking about your body. me? i was the sorry fuck who couldn’t stop thinking about your lips on mine.”

“john.” it’s a whine—and a pathetic one at that—but you have never heard him talk like this, never heard him wax philosophical about kissing you. part of you wants to grab his face and smash your lips together. the other part never wants him to stop talking.

he leans close, and you close your eyes, prepared to meet bliss in the simple form of a kiss. his breath just fans over you, and he keeps talking.

“you know, in some cultures, kissing is thought to be two souls becoming one.” this time his thumb brushes over your top lip. you resist the urge to pull his thumb between your teeth and bite down on his knuckle, something, anything, to get him on with it. “maybe that’s why you never let me kiss you, huh?”

“i don’t know,” you say again. god, you sound stupid. god, you want him to kiss you. “maybe.”

“when was your first kiss?”

you shake your head slightly, caught off guard by the question. “what?” you meet his eyes, dragging your gaze away from his mouth, to find him searching you beneath your stare. 

“when was your first kiss?”

you snort through your nose. “you won’t believe me.”

“try me. i was nine, if that makes you feel any better.”

you smirk. “it was when you kissed me in freddie’s dining room. that was my first kiss.”

he goes still. his eyes dart between yours, and your heart hammers so painfully against your chest you think you might be going into cardiac arrest. finally, he moves. he grabs your face, his fingers brushing the edges of your hair.

“god, fuck, i love you,” he mutters before slamming his mouth against yours.

unlike your first kiss in the dining room, this one is rough. it speaks of years of him pining, of you wondering, and, yes, of two souls becoming one. you grunt softly at the impact of his face on yours, but it’s not painful. it’s delicious. john moves his mouth over yours with expertise, and you struggle to keep up with him, to match him and his tongue and his lips. if you are unskilled, he doesn’t seem to mind. he truly kisses you senseless, any wit you had left in your brain leaking out of your ears. 

your skin is hot, radiating a heat unlike anything you’ve felt before. you struggle to breathe as the kiss lingers, and you drag your mouth away, gasping for air. he looks at you through his lashes, his palm framing the side of your face. his chest rises and falls with the weight of his hard breathing, and you’ve never seen pupils so blown with desire—all from a kiss.

“you love me?” his voice is strained, but in earnest.

you nod and lick your lips. at the sight of the motion, he can’t help but dip back down and capture your mouth for the briefest of seconds. when he pulls away, you say, “yes, i love you.”

“you will let me love you?”

“please.” you’re surprised at the lump which rises in your throat. it clogs your voice with emotion, and you sniff hard against a sudden onslaught of tears. “please love me.”

with the softest of smiles, john tilts your chin with his thumb and forefinger and kisses you again. you press your hands against his chest, fist your palms in his shirt. this feeling—of being loved and loving and kissing—is better than any arrangement, any gift, any fuck you’ve ever received. you push a little harder against his mouth, eager now, eager for him to kiss you until you beg for relief just as he promised.

he pulls away, stands, and offers you a hand. “come to bed, love.” you slip your fingers between his and fall off the couch on wobbly legs. he grips your waist, kisses your temple then your mouth. “i’ve got you.”

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

Let's pretend there was a proposal to eliminate the Senate, and instead have only the House of Representatives, still with 435 members. But, every state would start with four House seats, with the remaining 235 seats being allocated proportionally. In other words, California would only have around 30 House seats, while the Dakotas, Wyoming, etc. would each have four seats. Would you rather have this new arrangement, or the status quo?

I can't even imagine what the country would be like with a unicameral legislature, but I don't think it would be better than what we have now. For one, the House lacks the filibuster, so a single party could have total control with just 218 seats. I'd rather keep the bicameral system but reform the Senate so it's proportional; I like the idea of having statewide offices rather than districts which can be gerrymandered and packed. A proportional Senate would better reflect the will of the people. Under out current system it's not uncommon for one party to win statewide or nationwide popular votes and wind up losing seats in both the House and Senate (the Senate favors Republicans, the House tends to favor Democrats though with the upcoming redistricting and the Common Cause SCOTUS decision I think that's going to start favoring Republicans too)

If the New Senate remained at 100 members, each state would get 1 to start with, and the remaining 50 would be distributed more or less evenly. There are 330 million Americans, so every 6.6 million would get an additional Senator; Wyoming has less than 0.6 million people, so they wouldn't get an extra one, but California has 39.5 million, so they would get 6 extra (actually 5.985, which we'd round up, but rounding up for every state might create more than 100 senators, so there would need to be a formula to ensure equitable distribution). This would give us Wyoming with 1 senator and California with 7. Florida would have 4, Texas would have 5 or 6, New York 4, Georgia 3, Vermont 1, etc.

This would ensure that more people have more power, and would increase the likelihood of purple states sending senators from both parties; the seat at the top of the ballot would be highly partisan, but down ballot seats would probably receive fewer votes and could stand a chance at flipping either way. The Senate is the way it is today because the small colonies threatened to boycott the Constitution if they weren't given an amplified voice in Congress; it's always been about appeasing the conservative minority. This New Senate would ensure majority rule from now on; the House could still potentially be gerrymandered, but the Senate would reflect the voice of the people statewide.

There's not going to be a revolution, and even if there were the framers of the next constitution would probably keep the old disproportionate system in place rather than shake things up; it's easier to copy someone's homework than to make up something new, and state-building is VERY difficult even under the best of circumstances. There's no way the conservative minority would agree to an equitable system, whether it be a unicameral House or a proportional Senate, it's all wish fulfillment at this point. All I know is the US Constitution is full of holes; it's dangerously sparse, with huge swathes of it spackled over haphazardly with Supreme Court decisions rather than by popular amendment. If I were running things, I would make the federal constitution like the state-level constitutions, where amendments were put up to a vote rather than the ridiculous process of supermajorities in both houses of Congress and majorities in 3/4 of state legislatures.

From Wikipedia:

"Few new constitutions are modeled along the lines of the U.S. one, according to a study by David Law of Washington University. Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg viewed the United States Constitution as more of a relic of the 18th century rather than as a model for new constitutions. She suggested in 2012 that a nation seeking a new constitution might find a better model by examining the Constitution of South Africa (1997), the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (1982) and the European Convention on Human Rights (1950)."

"I would not look to the United States Constitution if I were drafting a constitution in the year 2012."

-RBG

Proportional Senate Calculations (using 2021 numbers):

100 senators; each state starts with 1, the remaining 50 are divided based on population; there are 330 million Americans, so these 50 senators each represent 6.6 million

AL: 4.934 million/6.6 million = 0.75 ≈ 1 (2 Senators total)

AK: 0.724/6.6 = 0.11 ≈ 0 (1 Senator)

AZ: 7.520/6.6 = 1.14 ≈ 1 (2 Senators)

AR: 3.034/6.6 = 0.46 ≈ 0 (1 Senator)

CA: 39.6/6.6 = 6.00 ≈ 6 (7 Senators)

CO: 5.894/6.6 = 0.89 ≈ 1 (2 Senators)

CT: 3.553/6.6 = 0.54 ≈ 1 (2 Senators)

DE: 0.990/6.6 = 0.15 ≈ 0 (1 Senator)

FL: 21.945/6.6 = 3.33 ≈ 3 (4 senators)

GA: 10.830/6.6 = 1.64 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

HI: 1.406/6.6 = 0.21 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

ID: 1.860/6.6 = 0.28 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

IL: 12.569/6.6 = 1.90 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

IN: 6.806/6.6 = 1.03 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

IA: 3.168/6.6 = 0.48 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

KS: 2.917/6.6 = 0.44 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

KY: 4.481/6.6 = 0.68 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

LA: 4.627/6.6 = 0.70 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

ME: 1.355/6.6 = 0.21 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

MD: 6.065/6.6 = 0.92 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

MA: 6.912/6.6 = 1.05 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

MI: 9.992/6.6 = 1.51 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

MN: 5.706/6.6 = 0.86 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

MS: 2.966/6.6 = 0.45 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

MO: 6.169/6.6 = 0.93 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

MT: 1.085/6.6 = 0.16 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

NE: 1.952/6.6 = 0.30 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

NV: 3.186/6.6 = 0.48 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

NH: 1.372/6.6 = 0.21 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

NJ: 8.875/6.6 = 1.34 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

NM: 2.105/6.6 = 0.32 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

NY: 19.300/6.6 = 2.92 ≈ 3 (4 senators)

NC: 10.701/6.6 = 1.62 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

ND: 0.770/6.6 = 0.12 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

OH: 11.715/6.6 = 1.78 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

OK: 3.990/6.6 = 0.60 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

OR: 4.289/6.6 = 0.65 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

PA: 12.804/6.6 = 1.94 ≈ 2 (3 senators)

RI: 1.062/6.6 = 0.16 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

SC: 5.278/6.6 = 0.80 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

SD: 0.897/6.6 = 0.14 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

TN: 6.944/6.6 = 1.05 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

TX: 29.730/6.6 = 4.50 ≈ 5 (6 senators)

UT: 3.311/6.6 = 0.50 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

VT: 0.623/6.6 = 0.09 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

VA: 8.604/6.6 = 1.30 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

WA: 7.797/6.6 = 1.18 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

WV: 1.768/6.6 = 0.27 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

WI: 5.852/6.6 = 0.89 ≈ 1 (2 senators)

WY: 0.581/6.6 = 0.09 ≈ 0 (1 senator)

This gives us 99 Senators; seems like we rounded down more than we rounded up, so the last senator would go to the state with the highest population that didn't get an extra one; looks like Nevada

[joggerfive]

Fic: Christmas Mischief

This is my Discord Secret Santa gift for @notebooksnshoelaces <3 Hope you like it, my lovely! Happy holidays!!

Simon and Five become christmassy Township Troublemakers™ and bring some festive cheer to Abel with a few pranks and surprises! Set in S1/S2.

(Link to fic on AO3 if that’s where you prefer to do your reading)

---

“Hello there, my dearest Five.”

Runner Five looked up from their notebook towards the doorway of the rec room. Simon swaggered in then slammed himself down on the couch next to Five with a grin.

“Where did you even get a Santa hat?” Five wondered aloud, reaching over to Simon’s head to touch the white pom-pom that was dangling from the top.

Simon playfully swatted their hand away before it could reach the hat. “I shall answer your question with another question. Are you up for some festive mischief?”

With a glint in their eye, Five immediately shut their notebook as their reply.

-----

“Jesus, it’s cold out here,” Simon complained, “even on the move, I’m bloody freezing.”

Five shook their head as they picked up a dirty shirt from the side of the road. It would be good as new after a wash. They shoved it in their bag and quickly caught up with Simon once more.

“You’re just grumpy because Sam made you take off your Santa hat.” Five replied.

At the mention of his name, the radio operator’s voice started coming through the runners’ headsets.

“It made your headset sit all weird! I’m not having you lose vital equipment in the name of Christmas spirit.” Sam rebutted indignantly.

Simon gave a fake cough, then mumbled the word “grinch”. Five smirked.

“Hey! I am not a grinch! I love Christmas!” Sam replied, sounding offended. “In fact, when I was a kid-”

Five startled as Simon gave their arm a couple of taps to grab their attention. Sam continued his story into their ears as Three pointed towards a street. Five nodded silently in response. Time for part one of the plan.

“Sam,” Simon started with a smirk, “What was that about geese? You’re breaking up.”

“What? No, I said trees.” Sam replied, coming through perfectly clearly.

“Bees? What have bees got to do with Christmas?” Three acted as confused as he could, furrowing his eyebrows together even though Sam couldn’t see him.

“Trees! I was saying how my family would choose a Christmas tree together!”

“Choose a what? And it was free?”

“A tree! And I didn’t say it was free!”

Simon tried to keep the grin off his face as he looked over at Five, “Sorry Sammy boy, you’re breaking up. I guess we’ll just have to hear your story about the free geese and bees later on, hey?”

“There are no geese or bees!” Sam exclaimed, before properly taking in what Simon said, “Wait, you can’t hear me? You should be able to, we haven’t had any problems in this area before-”

“-am. I –an’t hea- you.” Simon spoke in fragments, pretending to get cut off. Five gave a quiet scoff at the ridiculous attempt.

“What? Three? Five? Can you still hear me?”

Five looked over at Simon with an incredulous look on their face. They couldn’t believe it was actually working.

“Ca- -ear –ou.” Simon continued.

“Guys? Oh God, why can’t you hear me? Has a wire come loose? I knew I shouldn’t have cleaned in here!” A slight amount of panic started to become present in Sam’s voice, causing a small pang of guilt in Five’s chest.

Runner Three let out a last few incoherent syllables before turning off his headset and motioning for Five to do the same. When he saw Five’s expression, he sighed and turned off theirs for them.

“Oh, stop your worrying, Five. He’ll be fine.” Simon shrugged, “Come on, it’s this way.” He turned down the street on the left, instead of the route straight ahead that Sam had originally planned for them.

“We could’ve told him, you know.” Five mumbled, but followed Simon regardless.

“He would’ve ratted us out and you know it.” He rolled his eyes when Five looked at him with an expression like they’d just hurt a harmless little puppy. Which was kind of how they felt. “Come on, this is for the Christmas spirit! Just a quick stop at this shop and then we can tell Sam we’re okay. Only a few stragglers in our way and we’ve dealt with much worse, right?”

Five gave a reluctant nod, “Fine.”

Simon gave a loud whoop and a fist pump, which put a smile back on Five’s face, as they ran towards their destination.

-----

“Why do these places even exist?” Five asked once they were inside the shop, poking a bobblehead of Santa to make it nod. “Surely they didn’t get any business for ten months out of the year.”

Simon called out his answer from the other side of the store, “Yeah, but I bet the two months they did get business were booming.” On the last word, a couple of bells made a loud noise as a toy fell to the ground, Simon yelling out a quick ‘sorry!’ as he picked the elf back up and put it on its rightful place on the shelf.

The two runners were currently grabbing supplies from a Christmas shop aptly titled ‘Christmas Galore’, which although it appeared to be barren in a few areas (the clothes and candle sections mostly) it still had most of its contents covered in dust. Seemed like kitsch holiday items were not the most necessary thing to scavenge at the end of the world.

“Hey, look!” 

Five whipped their head up from the Nativity display they were looking at just in time to catch the flying scrap of red fabric that was thrown their way. 

“Now we can match!” Simon said happily. Five looked in their hands and saw a Santa hat. Slightly smaller than Simon’s, but it would do. They went to try it on.

“Can’t put it on now, you dolt.” Simon remarked as he shoved something into his bag, “Don’t think we would’ve found festive clothing in the pharmacy Sam thought we were going to.”

Five shrugged, “Maybe someone at the pharmacy was really into Christmas.”

“Alright smartie pants, if you wanna wear it then fine, but you’re doing the explaining.”

They gave Simon a glare before relenting and shoving the hat into their pack instead. The pair continued to grab whatever festive items they could as Simon whistled some Christmas songs to himself.

-----

Runner Five left their bunk on Christmas day with a spring in their step and a poorly concealed smirk on their face. Late last night, the secret santas had been putting festive touches all around Abel whilst trying not to wake anyone up. Five thought back to the moment they’d both tried to sneak into the kitchen through the window and Simon’s foot had gotten caught on the wood, causing him to land on his back with a loud thump, and bit their lip to contain their laughter.

Speak of the devil, as soon as Five entered the kitchen, their companion was already sitting at a table (Santa hat and all) with a mug in his hands.

“Good morning and a very merry Christmas, dear Five!” He greeted with a huge grin.

Five simply nodded as they sat down next to him. They were less of a morning person, but they’d make an exception for one day out of the year.

Simon took this as a reply and continued, “Where’s your hat then? Thought we were gonna be matching.”

Five looked confused for a moment, “My hat?”

“Yeah,” He replied, “I got you a hat. Did you lose it?”

Their face stayed the same for a few seconds, but they cracked when they saw Simon’s crestfallen expression. Reaching into their back pocket, they retrieved their Santa hat and put it on with a cheeky smile.

Simon gave a chuckle, “Had me there for a second. Thought my partner in crime had given up on me.”

They were about to respond when Simon looked over at another table, brimming with excitement. Five followed their gaze, only to be chastised.

“Don’t make it too obvious!” Simon hissed, “Act natural.”

The two mischief makers gave as many casual glances as they could to the other side of the room as Sam walked in, still looking half asleep.

Sam’s eyes widened as he saw the huge box on the table and slowly approached it. Three and Five watched as Sam read the label that was on top, which addressed the present to him. The box was big enough that it covered up Sam’s entire body from view as he sat behind it, making the troublemakers slightly upset that they couldn’t see their victim’s face. However, they knew it wouldn’t be a problem for long.

They watched as Sam (or just Sam’s arms, from their perspective) quickly opened the first box, then halted before pulling out a slightly smaller - but still quite large – box. Next, when that box was opened, another one was inside.

Over the next few minutes, Five had resorted to covering their mouth with their hand to ensure no giggles escaped and Three was pretending to take frequent sips from his now empty mug to hide his grin. There was a small group gathering around Sam as he continued to open the boxes and more boxes would reveal themselves. He was now on his seventh box, and his expression had changed from glee, to confusion, to annoyance.

The final box was about the size of the palm of Sam’s hand and the fervour with which he opened it showed just how done he was with the whole farce. After all the fuss, he held up a tiny SD card between his thumb and forefinger, looking over it with distrust as if he expected it to also have something even smaller inside. There was a note attached, which had been folded as many times as it could to be as compact as possible. The note read:

“Thought this would be a useful gift. Merry Christmas! From, Santa.”

Three and Five watched with delight as Sam read and reread the note multiple times, seemingly only getting more confused. Eventually, the crease between his eyebrows left and he let out a chuckle as he looked to his right and saw the ridiculous amount of empty boxes and wrapping paper on the floor, then pocketed the SD card. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes, seemingly looking for a culprit, making Three and Five tear their gazes away from him.

“How about we go see our next lucky contestant, eh, Five?” Simon said quickly as he saw Sam rise from his seat, probably to go interrogate people about his gift.

With that, the two scurried out of the kitchen, finally letting out all their laughter once they were alone.

-—-

On their way to their next destination, they caught sight of Janine shouting up orders to one of the guards, who was up on a ladder desperately trying to grab something that was seemingly tied above the gates that allowed people in and out of Abel.

Simon instantly changed direction to head towards Janine, his smirk flawlessly changing to a concerned expression as he approached. Five tried their best to copy him.

“Jenny, what’s up?” Three asked as they got close, “Something wrong with the gates?”

Janine turned around, her red cheeks almost rivalling the red plaid shirt she was wearing. She looked aggravated and tired at the same time.

“It seems someone thought it would be funny to tie some… mistletoe above the gates.” She said snippily, staring upwards at the object in question with a grimace.

Simon let out a chuckle, “And that’s why you’re making poor Jacob here stand at the top of a ladder in the freezing cold on Christmas morning? Come on, it’s obviously just a bit of fun.”

Janine folded her arms as she scowled, “‘A bit of fun’, is it? It may be Christmas but we still have runners scheduled to go out today, and this…” she pointed up at the mistletoe, “thing will cause nothing but chaos.”

Five bit their lip to try and hide their smile as Simon replied, “Chaos? It’s just a bit of fake plant that lets people give kisses scot-free. That’s it.”

“When someone comes back through the gates, their first port of call is to go straight to the hospital for bite checks, not to…” Her nose scrunched up, “kiss someone. What if the person coming in is bitten? And the mistletoe malarkey gives them a few extra minutes to hide their bite? What if the person that’s bitten kisses another person?”

Simon hummed in thought, “I don’t think that someone that’s bitten kissing someone else that isn’t bitten would cause the other person to become a zom too. I don’t know though. Haven’t exactly been doing any kissing research.” His eyes lit up as he saw an opportunity, “Maybe we could do some research, ey, Jenny? Strictly for scientific purposes, of course. For the greater good of the township.”

Janine’s eyes widened, her cheeks once pink from the cold and exasperation now blushing for a completely different reason. “Would you like to take over from Mr. Quinn?” She asked Simon, gesturing to the man that was still trying to grab the mistletoe but couldn’t reach due to the fact that the ladder was too small. (Luckily, Five had the forethought to hide the taller ladder that Simon had used to hang the mistletoe up, and it was currently in one of the barns.)

Simon paused for a few seconds as he feigned thinking, “No, I don’t think I’d like that.”

“Then I’d suggest you leave swiftly. Before I make you do so.” Janine concluded.

“Righty-o!” Three replied, giving her a wink before turning away, “Good luck up there, mate!” He shouted up to the guard, who didn’t give a reply. (At least one loud enough that Simon could hear.) Three and Five began to walk away.

“Si?”

They both turned around as they heard Janine speak once more.

“Yeah?” He replied non-chalantly.

“How do you know the plant is fake?” She asked.

Simon paused, “What’s that, Jenny?”

“You said ‘a bit of fake plant’ when referring to the mistletoe.” She said calmly, “How do you know it’s fake? I can’t tell from down here. How can you?”

He quickly scoffed, “Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? Where’s someone going to find real mistletoe anywhere these days?”

Janine seemed to ponder his answer for a while, staring him down for multiple moments. Five was glad that steel gaze wasn’t on them, they weren’t sure they could handle the pressure as well as their partner.

“I suppose that’s true.” Janine conceded, though she still seemed suspicious. “Very well.”

Three took the answer happily, grabbing Five’s arm as he began to walk away from the scene of the crime once more. “See ya later, love!” He shouted as him and Five scurried away as quickly as possible.

--—

Throughout the day, people started reporting more instances of Christmas mischief.

In the hospital, there was tinsel of all different colours lining each cot. Maxine removed it from beds that were currently being used, just in case a patient tried to stand up and got their leg caught, but happily left the empty beds decorated, enjoying the little bit of brightness it brought to the room.

Jody had been gifted a single knitting needle, with a vague clue to tell her where the next one was hidden which caused her to go on a wild goose chase around the township.

Multiple people saw animals in the farmyard wearing festive hats and headbands, though most of them had wrestled them off by afternoon.

Sara had been gifted a bottle of whiskey, but a padlock on the top prevented her from opening it. There was a riddle attached saying what the combination was, but instead Simon and Five saw her asking around for a hammer or a crowbar.

All the individual jars and tins in the kitchen cupboards had been wrapped in patterned Christmas paper, forcing all the people working there to unwrap each and every one. (If they were to count the amount of ingredients, they would’ve realised that they were a few more than there were the previous day.)

Then, somehow, a rumour had started that Santa himself was going to be visiting Abel. The children whispered happily about it, the parents all gave each other broad smiles, and everyone was trying to suss out who this Santa could be.

-—-

That afternoon, hidden away in a barn as far away from the other residents of Abel as they could be, Three and Five were getting changed into their costumes.

“I still think I should be Santa.” Simon huffed from behind a stack of hay bales, his voice straining with exertion as he tried to get into his outfit.

Five replied, already dressed as Santa Clause, complete with a bushy white beard and big black boots (Evan wouldn’t miss his boots for one day, surely), “The Santa trousers were so short on you that most of your calves were showing. And the jacket showed your midriff. This is for the best.”

“What’s wrong with people seeing my wonderfully toned calves and midriff?”

Five rolled their eyes while fiddling with the fake beard.

Simon’s head popped out from behind a hay bale to glare at his companion, “You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Five replied coolly, “Now hurry up, the kids will be waiting already!”

“Alright!” Simon huffed, “I’m coming out.” He let out a heaving sigh as he wondered out from behind his hiding spot.

Five let out a full belly laugh that would’ve rivalled Santa’s.

“Oi!” Simon shouted defensively over the sound of laughter.

“Sorry!” Five choked out, “It’s just… Wow. And I thought the Santa outfit was short on you.”

He was wearing a green and red elf dress that cut off at his mid-thigh, accompanied with an elf hat that had a golden bell on the end.

Simon folded his arms, then realised it made the skirt ride up even more, and brought his arms back down to his sides. Even in the low afternoon light, the redness on his cheeks was obvious.

“Oh, come on,” Five said, walking up to their elf, “For someone who’s streaked multiple times-”

“This is going to be in front of children!” Simon said indignantly.

“Yeah you’re right,” Five agreed solemnly, before breaking out into a grin, “They’re going to be scarred by your pasty legs.”

“Pasty?!” Simon cried out, “Hey, I-”

“Speaking of the children, we don’t want to keep them waiting, do we?” Five continued with a smile.

Simon let out a large exhale, “Fine. You’re right. Best get this over with.”

Five chuckled, “Aw, come on little elf. Cheer up. It’s Christmas!”

At that, Simon perked up. “Yeah, I guess it is. Alright. Let’s put on the best show Abel’s ever seen.” He held out his arm for his partner in crime, who happily linked their arm with his.

They walked back towards the centre of Abel together, Simon’s hat jingling the whole way.

[rogerina-yee-haw]

“at least I’m one”

sd!gwilym lee x reader

chapter 6: “- the happiness”

[the goodbye] [the sadness & tenderness] [the broken rules and true affection] [the pain and eternal bliss] [the anticipated sweetness]

summary: you and gwil met ten months ago; and he offered you to be his sugar baby almost immediately. you agreed at that exact moment, not knowing where it would get you.

word count: 4,3K+

warnings: fluffy fluff, angst, mentions of negative body image, mentions of abuse, typos

a/n: well, this is it!! it’s been almost three months since i posted “the goodbye” chapter, and now alio is over!! yikes!! 

but, seriously. i can’t thank all of you enough. you’ve shown amazing support to this fic and it caught me completely off guard. it’s my first fic in English that i’ve finished (sorry, “Truth or Dare” kssjsjdksksjsk) and i’m so thankful for all of you. i have found amazing friends through this fic, through this fandom - and i’m really, really thankful for the love and support you have for alio. thankuthankthanku. i love you all dearly, and hope that you will enjoy the last chapter. i’m still going to write some side pieces to the fic, but for now, alio is over. again, i love you all so much and thank u.

p.s. hope this chapter doesn’t suck ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Whatcha doin'?"

You raise your head from the book to look at Gwil - he stands in the doorway, rubbing his eyes sleepily and wearing nothing but boxers. He looks so soft and sweet, that you can't quite process the fact that he's all yours. It all still feels like a dream.

"Reading".

"At three in the morning?" his eyebrows rise, as he comes closer to the couch and takes a seat right near you; Gwil doesn't seem to be bothered about personal space at all - he sits down so that your hips are touching. 

"What's wrong?" Gwilym brushes your cheek with his fingers, looking at you worriedly.

You put the book on the tea table in front of the couch, and turn yourself to Gwil so that you're facing each other. "Nothing".

"Something's wrong, I know it", he insists, and you sigh. "C'mon, love. Tell me".

Can he get any more perfect? you think to yourself while looking at him. How is it possible that he knows something is wrong before you even tell him? Is he some kind of psychic or something?

"Are you some kind of psychic or something?" you repeat your thoughts out loud; Gwil chuckles and licks his lips.

"That's the ultimate dream of mine, y'know", he's even closer right now; his hand is on your thigh, squeezing it gently, while his other hand cups your cheek, "being a psychic, read people's minds", the corners of your mouth quirk up at Gwil's attempt to joke. "But I'm not, in reality", he says softly, "I just feel that something is wrong". Gwilym is silent for a moment; his gaze wanders all over your body, stopping to look at your hands that are covered with the long sleeves of your hoodie. He sighs deeply, adding another thing to many of his suspicions about your weird behavior. "You've been ignoring me for the past two days. Just tell me what I've done wro-"

"It's not you, baby", you don't let him finish. "It's just..." you stutter for a moment. "I still can't process that. Still can't believe we're here. Getting married, and just... Being together. Like a normal couple".

Gwil lowers his head to look you in the eyes; his hand is still on your face. "Baby", he brushes his thumb over your cheek slowly, "what are you afraid of?"

It's weird. Weird how he feels you, knows you. Before you could even think about it, he already knows the answer. You're scared. You've been in a serious relationship before, but it turned out to be complete garbage. You loved too much and got hurt terribly. You don't want to witness the moment when tenderness leaves Gwil's eyes and he falls out of love with you. You're afraid of losing him - you almost did, and it made you go nuts - and you don't ever want for this to happen again. The love you have for him is immeasurable, and you're scared that once this bliss will go away. You're scared he'll stop loving you.

"I don't want to lose you", your voice is almost a whisper, but Gwil hears it. And it breaks his heart to know that you think this way.

"You won't", he reassures you, "I'll always be here. You'd get tired of me first", Gwilym jokes, and the corners of your mouth turn up, giving him a small smile.

"I can hardly believe that", you mutter, turning your head away and losing Gwil's touch on your face. He furrows his brows; he doesn't understand what's going on.

It's been five days since the two of you came back from Dublin and two days since you've been acting weird. Your mood would swing from happiness to crying in the bathroom. You wouldn't talk to him. You wouldn't let him touch you. The two of you barely kissed - Gwil only got quick pecks on the lips before going to work. You were never like this: you were always affectionate and loving towards him (and everybody) and seeing such a shift confused Gwilym to no end. When he woke up several minutes ago without you in bed, he immediately thought that you left him - for ever. That's the only thing that's been going on his mind for the past two days.

"Do you regret it?" the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. Your brows knit and you look at him in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you regret being with me?" Gwil is everything but calm now. "Do you regret saying "Yes"? Do you regret all of it?"

Your breaths quickened at his words. "Why would you even say this?"

"Because that's what I'm afraid of", he is silent for a moment. "I'm scared of you just pretending. I know you're not - I trust you and I love you and I know that you love me - but I'm scared that you don't want to be with me. That you'd better be free now, doing something - being with someone else. I'm afraid you regret all of it, like everything that happened in between us - I'm just so scared that it's not-"

"Gwil", you cup his cheeks before he can say something else. "I don't regret it", his eyes are glistening with tears. You hate it. "None of it, baby. I love you so much, it's even impossible for me-", you sigh. "I'm scared that you regret being with me".

"Why would I ever regret being with you?"

"Because it's me. I'm not like every other girlfriend you had. I'm not skinny, not pretty, not-"

"Woah", Gwilym takes your face in his hands and examines it thoroughly. "Don't say that. You're amazingly beautiful. Mesmerizing. Y/N, I haven't been dating anyone for some good amount of years. Or what-" he looks you in the eyes, "you think Zoe was my girlfriend? Or, god forbid, Alice?" Gwil huffs. "No. That's the point. I fell in love with you immediately, like it was something in my mind telling me to come and talk to you. I'm not going to - I won't ever say bullshit like "You're not like other girls" and shit, but, baby, you're so fucking special to me. Everything about you is unique. You've changed my life in so many ways, and there you are, sitting here, and telling me that you're not pretty enough for me?" you sigh deeply, and he licks his lips, a grin creeping onto his face. "How dare you, Mrs. Lee".

You raise a brow and look at him, startled. "Mrs. Lee?"

"Soon to be", Gwil smiles softly. "Only if you want to", he adds quickly.

"’Course I want to", you bite your lip, and Gwil feels his cock twitching in his boxers. "Wouldn't ever follow you to Dublin and lose my job if I didn't want to".

Gwil kisses your forehead and intertwines his fingers with yours. "Please, don't push me away if you feel insecure. Please". He puts his forehead to yours and looks you in the eyes. "You're everything I've ever wanted. I love you, Y/N", you can feel a lump in your throat.

"I'm just-"

It's been building up for so long.

You have never been following the standards of beauty. But you did that unknowingly when you were a teenager; you had all of it that every magazine required from a woman - a flat stomach, a skinny body, and long, perfect hair. But you never saw it - you were drowning so deeply in your insecurities, that you saw yourself only as something "fat and disgusting". It took you a lot of time to come through this terrible period when you considered fatness to be something awful; it never has been awful, and you're happy to know this now. But no matter how much you stood up for body positivity since you've learned about it, no matter how many times you've been praising your friends' bodies and souls, you could never bring yourself to this concept of "self-love". For many years, especially when those ones you had spent with Luke, you've been asking yourself daily, "What is self-love?"

Your mother couldn't explain it to you. Your sister couldn't. Your best friend since the university days, Janet, put it as, "Self-love is when you love yourself. Easy, right? Very easy, Y/N. You just gotta look at yourself in the mirror and see how perfect you are. You've got big boobs, nice ass, thick thighs - well, a bit of extra weight on your stomach, but that's fixable - come on, how can you not love yourself? You have to remember that if you don't love somethin' about yourself - you can fix it. Lose weight and shit. But it shouldn't ever make you insecure! Guys love thick girls too!".

Janet has always been a bit of an asshole, as Billy puts it up. You used to tell him off for such words, but after her speech on body positivity, you stopped. You knew Janet meant only well, but her words made you feel worse. "If you don't love somethin' about yourself - you can fix it". It was echoing in your head every day. When you looked in the mirror especially.

When you were a teenager, you saw a lot of extra weight in yourself, you were never able to see yourself as you really looked. James never actually complimented you, but he loved to tell you, "How fuckin' big ya tits are, babe, just fuckin' made fo' me to touch". Some years later your therapist would tell you it wasn't a compliment. At least, not the type of compliment to help in your self-esteem increase.

These words were steady, always at your side when you and Luke were together. He used to praise you, but this praise was never genuine - it was when he was guilty and tried to buy your trust back or when he needed something from you. He told you that you had an amazing body and later that day said you needed to lose weight - as he would state that - because he was ashamed to go out with "Such a whale".

You starved yourself for days. Tried to keep up with this "diet" when the only thing you could "eat" was water. You never stuck to it for too long, though. Your mum and Becca always made you eat - and you were grateful for this. But you still felt terrible. You couldn't love yourself. Even though you were sure everyone is beautiful, you never thought that you were too.

Several years later, when you were twenty-three - just some days before you met Gwilym - you and Billy were at one of the family gatherings when you asked him about self-love. You remember him being silent for a moment; when the two of you sat down on the bed in your childhood room, he sighed deeply. "I have no fucking idea, Y/N", he said in a shaky voice. "I can't say I love myself. I mean, sure, I work out and I got abs and muscles and girls fall for it, but-", Billy stuttered, looking at you. "All of it doesn't make me love myself. I don't know what self-love is, to be honest". He lied down on the bed and you did the same; you heads on the pillows were touching and both of you were looking at the ceiling. "Mum always says that no one would love you if you don't love yourself".

"Do you agree with it?"

Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Dunno. It feels like truth, but whenever I shag a girl and she tells me how hot I am-"

"Jesus, ew".

"Yeah", he chuckled. "I have the same reaction all the time. Always ask myself, 'Is she really into me? Why is she into me? Is this because I'm ripped?'"

"Have you found the answer?"

He sighed, leaning in closer to you, so your shoulders were touching too. "Not yet. I'm just thinking, Y/N - how does it feel to love yourself? What should happen in your life that you just wake up and... Feel it? Feel that you don't look like shit, feel that your body doesn't have imperfections. How does this happen?"

You gave a half shrug. "I don't know. But from what I've read and what my therapist told me - self-love isn't about seeing yourself as something "perfect". It's about accepting your flaws and loving them. It's about accepting yourself, no matter what you look like".

"Oh, I get it", Billy answered quietly, "I've read about such shit on Twitter".

"Not the best source".

He shushed you. "There was like a thread - I don't remember exactly everything, but there was this thing that got into my mind. It said, that no matter how ripped you are, no matter how much you look like these Victoria's Secret's models - if you don't love yourself, you'd still hate the person in the mirror. Even if you look "perfect".

You nodded and let out a deep sigh. "Well, that's true. I mean, you look like a fucking bodybuilder and still hate yourself".

"At least I'm not the one listening to my bitch of a friend who says I have to lose weight to look good".

You poked him in the ribs playfully, and both of you smiled.

"Alright, we're both fucked up, I admit it", Billy replied. "Let's make a deal".

You turned your head to look him in the eyes. "What kind of deal?"

"Let's try loving ourselves", he said in a soft voice. "Let's say something nice to the reflection in the mirror. Maybe something dumb like, "That dick is poking out good today" or whatever. You can say the same 'bout your nipples".

"Why do you always have to make it sexual, Billy?"

"Oh, come on, Y/N!" he said loudly, propping onto his elbows. "That's the bare minimum! And I make it sexually related because I don't know what to praise in myself except for the dick. Not yet", he added quietly.

"At least, you admit you can praise your dick. I hate every part of my body. I don't know how it’s even possible".

"I would say that you have nice tits, but it would sound really weird".

"You already fucking said it, you dumbass".

"Y/N, look-", he was determined to convince you, "everyone hates something 'bout themselves. But we've gotta work on that. We've gotta get out of this pit full of hatred and self-pity, just 'cause-", he stuttered, "just 'cause if we don't - we won't end up well. And that's certainly isn't something anyone wants".

"Come on, Y/N", he continued when you didn't respond, "I know it's hard to believe it, but you're really fuckin' gorgeous. But what's most important is that your beauty isn't the only thing to admire. You graduated with honors, you can outsmart anyone everywhere - and you're literally throwing good opportunities away because you're insecure. Remember that job you were offered last month?" you nodded. "You fuckin' declined the offer. ‘Cause you're too scared you won't fit in. It's written all over your face that you think everyone would discuss how fat you are".

"How'd you know that?" you mumbled.

"'Cause you wear nothing but baggy clothes all the time!" Billy almost yelled. "You've got a nice body down there - I have never checked you out in my life - 'cause it's disgusting - and I know it because everyone's body is beautiful. Isn't it a thing you're telling everybody on a daily basis?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, even though you knew Billy was right.

"A bit hypocritical, innit, Y/N?"

"Alright, alright, yeah", you said finally. "I admit, I don't even try to love myself".

"And you're too scared of the society's attention", Billy added. "Like, remember our senior ball? You looked really good in that pink dress. The makeup though? T'was great, made me feel jealous I didn't wear that eyeshadow instead of you", his comment made you laugh. "Everyone was startled, but when Jemma Cham said you looked ugly... You only saw that. You always see only the bad things, Y/N, and ignore the good ones. That's what I meant. You should start appreciating the good things around you, at least", you both looked at each other for a while, before Billy rested his head on the pillow again. "Come on, mate. Let's make a deal".

His pinky finger was at your face in an instant; and sighed deeply and gave up. At least, Billy wasn't offering to do something terrible.

"Let's say good things about ourselves every day", he said, when you gave him a pinky promise. "No hate, no irritation - just the good things. Agreed?"

You nodded, smiling at him. "Promised".

"Alright", he said. "I'll start. I will try to love my first name, that my poor, fangirling mother gave me twenty-three years ago when she thought Billy Bob Thornton to be the best manin the world".

"It still sucks. Try something else, bub".

Billy sighed. "You don't make it any better, Y/N".

You were bad at keeping promises. Of course, you tried to start this journey to the anticipated self-love - and, to be honest, you hated yourself a bit less now. You acknowledged that your body had some good sides; you started to understand that stretch marks weren't a bad thing. Especially after Gwil kissed all over your inner thighs with stretch marks on them the first time you had sex. Gwilym made you feel a lot better about your body - he never stopped worshipping it and telling you how good you looked, no matter what you wore. That made you feel better. But only before you met Alice.

Of course, now Alice isn't a problem - she's being charged with breaking and entering into Gwil's apartment and won’t ever bother the two of you - but she certainly had been a problem in the past. With her long, beautiful black hair, perfect body and witty personality - you felt like you were out of the competition. She had made an impression on you during your multiple encounters - that one on Christmas, in the pub where you were with Billy and Janet, in the mall, or when you were grocery shopping... The last one wasn't quite good, though.

"Doesn't Gwil give you money to go to some better places for shopping?" she asked, while the two of you stood near the shelves with vegetables.

"I've gotta the same question to you", you muttered under your breath, trying to ignore her presence by looking at the price of tomatoes.

"Oh, my mum asked me to buy something for her here", you looked over at her shopping cart; something about it told you it wasn't for Alice's mother. "I don't go grocery shopping at all. Gwil has bought me a maid for it. And for cleaning my flat too".

You had to restrain yourself from laughing. Of course. "That's very kind of him", you said, turning to face her. "Guess, he gave all of his money to you, since he can't hire someone to fix up his place", a muscle in Alice's jaw twitched. "You've been to his flat, right? It's a mess", you looked at her with innocence written all over your face, "he can't even do laundry or wash this pile of dishes - that's how busy he is. And still, there is no maid helping him out. Maybe you'll share yours with him?"

Alice was almost burning; her face went completely red and she was heavily breathing. "Maybe you will do it?" she asked a couple of seconds later when she got herself together. "You've got quite a personality for it".

You frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"People like you..." Alice looked you up and down. "Are just destined to be the second best. No, probably, even the tenth best. But never the first".

Alice won back then. She made you feel terrible in every way possible, and - it was pretty stupid, as you thought - you couldn't stop remembering about this moment now especially. You never tend to be the first. Never. Never. Never.

"Baby", Gwil whispers, looking into your eyes, "what is it?"

You close your eyes and sigh deeply. His hands are on your cheeks, and his touch is so tender and soft that it makes your eyes swim with tears. This is too much. He is too much. No one has ever cared about you like this before. 

It all has been building up for so long - probably since you were a teenager. 

James never understood the basics of human nature, never understood why you needed his shoulder to cry on, why you needed his constant reassurance that he loved you. And Luke... Luke is a different story. He would tell you he loves you, and the next moment you were crying on the floor because at this specific time he hit you too hard. Luke was never caring or loving. Luke was - and still is - harsh and cruel, violent. And even after ten months with Gwil, you're still not used to being admired, worshipped. You still aren't used to being loved.

"I'm just-", you barely open your mouth, when you feel the lump in your throat. You're afraid that the next time you open your mouth - you'll be choking on tears.

"What's wrong?" even though your eyes are closed, you can still feel Gwilym looking at you. He's worried, sad and anxious. He's still scared that you're going to get up and leave him forever. Gwil thinks that he won't ever get rid of this fear. "Baby", he presses his forehead to yours; you bite the inside of your cheek just to stop the tears - but they uncontrollably stream down your face anyway. "I understand. You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. You don't have to" when Gwil repeats it, your eyes are flushed open.

"No, I-" wow, you really are choking on tears, "I want to. I just...don't know how". You're crying - sobbing now, actually - and Gwil still has his hands on your cheeks. Because he knows that you need his touch. Need it more than anything. "No one has ever - ever cared about me as you do. And I don't know - I don't know where to start, what to say - I just-" you stutter again, unable to continue. You feel as if all the oxygen has been taken from - you can't fucking breathe.

Gwil kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, putting his hands around you. You nuzzle his neck, tears glistening on his skin in the dim light of the living-room. You feel warm and safe - and for the first time in your life, you feel comfortable crying. He holds you close, stroking your hair and whispering sweet nothings. That's the thing you've been craving from James and Luke - the thing they never gave you. Reassurance.

"I love you", Gwil whispers, when you finally pluck up the courage to look at him. "I love you more than anything".

"I love you too", you say breathlessly and kiss his stubbly cheek lightly. And when he looks at you - with so much love and fondness - you start speaking. You don't know how to stop yourself, but part of you knows that you don't want to.

You keep telling Gwil about everything: starting with your classmate calling you a "cow" in the sixth grade and finishing with your fears. You can't stop saying all of it, and Gwil doesn't want you to - it's probably the first time when everything is focused around you. You're not much of a talker, and sometimes saying "I love you" to your parents is a hard thing to do - but tonight you talk, and talk, and talk. All because you're tired of keeping everything inside. And if you don't spill it out, you'll blow up.

And Gwil deserves to know what's going on inside your head - he's going to marry you, you can't keep having secrets from each other. Every relationship must be built on trust, and tonight you finally let all of your walls fall down, opening up to Gwil like to no one else. You trust him. That's the most important reason why you're being so honest. You know he won't laugh at you, you know he would never judge. He'll accept you no matter what. Because now you know that he loves you.

When you finish, it's already the break of dawn. You're in Gwil's arms, with your head oh his shoulders, and his arm around your waist. He's playing with your hair, while the two of you sit in silence.

"Still wanna marry me?" you say jokingly.

He smiles and kisses the top of your head. "Always. Can't wait to call you 'my wife'".

You chuckle and snuggle closer to him. All of it feels like home. And you know that you have finally found the love of your life.

He’s so warm and sweet and lovely. You’ve never thought you’d be so in love with someone that even their smile would make you go crazy. He’s the guy you’ve been dreaming about your whole life, he is your Prince Charming. And you are his Princess. Even though you don’t need this - you just need him in your life. You feel so much love and happiness while kissing with him before you two fall asleep in your bed at six in the morning - and you can’t keep yourself from beaming when Gwil’s pulling you closer to him and whispering “I love you’s” into your neck. Now you don’t know yet that in two hours you’ll wake up with the worst nausea in your life; you still don’t know that three days later you’ll find out about your pregnancy. You don’t need to know that yet. Now you’re in the state of total bliss and love and what you’ve craved for years - eternal happiness - is given to you by the man right next to you. And you that’s exactly what you need.

_______________________________________________________________

“alio” taglist:  @majesticdiscodeaky @heartsarecompatible @all-my-friends-are-german @magicwithaknife @longing-hiraeth @thelondondreamer5 @roger-taylors-drumsticks @runningoutofwordstosay @chlobo6 @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @queenficarchive @murydedeus03 @alis-volat-propriiis @deacycomics @hollandspcter @gwils-bitch   @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @painthatiusedto @kaylaylaylayla @rogerinastolemyheart @broken-pieces @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @leah-halliwell92 @brianandthemays  @murydedeus03 @rogerfxckingtaylor  @zvzxs

[mintyvan]

43

prompt reader meets van while photographing the band in a photoshoot for @i-wanna-bring-you-home-myself. fluffy! word count - 2857. 

notes I’ve never seen people do mood boards for their fics, so I’m going to continue doing it since it was so fun for Red. Let me know what you think!

__________

You slid your thumb across the winder of your 35mm camera, and sighed when you realized you’d used up the last picture on the roll.

“Take 5, lads,” you yelled to the four men posted up near the studio backdrop, and walked to your equipment table. To your anger, you realized the side pocket of your camera bag was empty. You’d only packed three rolls of film that day, and you’d just finished all the three on people unwilling to pose. These men took ages to photograph properly, and even so, still made odd “serious” faces that didn’t look natural. Ugh. You had barely used two rolls of film on Rita Ora last week, and her management had asked for a whole lot more final photos than Catfish and the Whatever-they-were-called. You’ve got to be kidding me, you mumbled under your breath, and pushed the palm of your hand against your forehead.

“Problem, love?” a voice piped up from behind you. You swiveled. Standing there was the frontman of the band you were shooting for their upcoming album booklet. He had a hard time with clenching his jaw in photos, and you had to tell him to relax multiple times, but he kept jittering around and making everyone nervous until you had to expel him for a cigarette break about an hour earlier. You weren’t too keen on talking with him; he’d interfered with your work too much by now, and he seemed like he could be a stressful presence on the regular. However, you had to keep it professional. Kelsey, your intern, giggled. Early on, she’d noticed how upset this particular job had made you.

“Ran out of film. Don’t have any more in the kit,” you sighed, talking more into the air than to the man who’d asked. “I might just let you all go today. I think we have the material we need.”

He chuckled, and sat on a nearby pop art yellow chair under a softbox, spindly legs awkwardly bent beneath the metal chair seat. “I doubt that. We lot are terrible at photos.” At that, the corners of your mouth turned upward. At least he knew he couldn’t model. His humility brightened your mood a tad.

“People have told us before, ‘You’re all nice, but you’ve got no good looks and you can’t pose for shit.’ Even when they use the regular cameras they’ve gotta change the SD card or whatever. We’re pros at wasting time. See, me mate Larry and I, he’s over there, we sit up in our kitchen for ---”

The buzzer overhead sounded off that the five minute break was over, and that everyone should return to their places for photos. You smiled and nodded toward the ceiling to dismiss him. Bless. Boy could he run his mouth.

The frontman stood up and stretched his legs a little. Instead of walking to the backdrop, he walked over to his friend, presumably Larry, and whispered in his ear. You shook your head and readied your digital camera. You were so glad you’d grabbed it as you left out the door this morning.

“Y/N, are we moving to digital?” Kelsey asked, ready to take orders.

“Yep, go ahead and dismantle the flashes on stands; we won’t be needing them for this shoot since I have another to attach to my camera. Thank you!” you called as Kelsey scurried about the studio and between Catfish members.

Once the men were back in place -- drummer and bassist in the back, lead guitarist and vocalist up front -- you readied a separate camera.

The band’s manager, Mike, walked in after you’d taken a few test shots. You called over to him.

“Hey Mike, unfortunately the photoshoot has taken up the three rolls of film I had ready for today. I have to use my digital camera to finish the rest.”

Mike walked over, gnawing on a toothpick. “Won’t that interfere with the finished effect of the photos we specifically booked your studio for?” he asked cautiously -- not getting angry yet, but about to be. “We don’t want to pay extra for editing to achieve that film look.”

“It will, but unless we get our hands on some film, I can’t continue. My studio didn’t expect them to be so… uncooperative.”

The mention of the word seemed to evoke whispers from the band members as you spoke, only semi-hushedly, to the manager, who tersely responded.

“My... apologies. We don’t know if we’ll be coming back here another day for the rest of the shoot. We’re on a tight schedule.” His eyebrow furrowed first at you, and then he shot a look over his shoulder at the four men standing awkwardly on the white paper drawn down for the shoot. Kelsey pretended to not be listening.

“And so am I. Today is the only day I blocked out for you lot.” The tension in the room climbed to uncomfortable levels as your voice rose.

The frontman came up from behind and tapped on Mike’s shoulder so he’d let him into the circle of conversation. “If it’s any consolation, I can pay to get you more film,” he said, sympathetic.

“That would be nice of you, but the camera takes only a certain kind,” you shrug. “I don’t think you’d be able to get it today.”

“Give me the details, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Very well,” the manager cut in, and left the circle to attend to other matters, probably to try to book another studio for this afternoon. You guessed you were trusting the frontman now.

“Thank you,” you said to him. You handed him a piece of paper with the film type scrawled onto it, courtesy of Kelsey. He smirked, pivoted on his heel, and walked away.

Stressed and in need of a dose of caffeine, you made your way to the table filled with snacks and drinks provided for your camera crew and the band. Mug in hand, you went to pour the coffee jug and realized there wasn’t any left. You scoffed and picked up a scone instead.

“Sorry,” the person next to you said raspily, clearing his throat before speaking again: “Took the last bit of coffee not more than five minutes ago. It was mostly the dregs though.” His rabbit teeth smiled in consolation, and then he sauntered off in a matching tracksuit. He paused to check his phone, typed out a text, and then kept walking. You took in the sight of the little man in his tracksuit, and chuckled to yourself.

At a table a ways away from the studio setup, you chewed your scone dejectedly. You were supposed to be a professional… but then again, so were they! They came into your studio and wasted your time all day, and you probably only got two good shots from all those rolls you used up. You wouldn’t be able to tell if they were adequate until you developed the film.

You sat there for thirty minutes, waiting for the lanky frontman to return. You’d sent the band members out on lunch break in the meantime. Kelsey entertained you and your lighting crew by setting up her laptop with Shane Dawson’s latest conspiracy videos… needless to say, your mood brightened considerably.  

While you were checking your phone, a small box came down sharply on the table, and then a cup next to it. You looked up in awe. There the frontman was, smiling ear-to-ear.

“Five rolls of state-of-the-art film you asked for, exactly for your camera, and a venti coffee, because the bags under your eyes aren’t becoming you, love.”

“How did you…..?”

“Don’t mention it. I’m sorry to have caused you all this trouble today. I know you can’t complain much ‘cause it’s your job, but if I can make it less hectic, I will.”

“I have no words. That was…. quick.”

“I know,” he winked, and ambled back to where the other band members were camped out against the backdrop.

You stood from your seat and threw the plate with scone crumbs into the wash bin for the caterer, took a long sip of coffee, and started to ready your camera with a little pep in your step.

“Kelsey, would you mind calling Mike to tell him everything’s fine? Van saved the day.”

You listened to the chit-chat as you prepped.

“Van!” the guy in the tracksuit yelled across the room. It echoed against the industrial pipes framing the white brick. “Van!”

“What d’you want Larry?” the frontman, presumably Van, answered sharply before sitting up and catching whatever Larry had thrown at him.

Van. Cute name. It reminded you of a guy you’d met a few years ago at a pub. His name was also Van, and he’d bought you a few drinks before making out with you in the alley behind it. Thinking about that experience made you blush, and chuckle a little to yourself. Oh, the things you did when you were younger. Kelsey noticed you smiling, and air-high-fived you from across the room for getting into a better mood.

“I don’t get this Animal Crossing game, Benji,” the tall one with the hat said to the guy next to him. “Why do I have to give the animals what they want? Why can’t I get off on withholding?”

Bob snickered, and shook his curls out. Benji spoke slower than you’d ever heard anyone speak. “Bondy…. you just collect what they want from the different areas, and come back to them when you have it all,” he said. “It’s the whole premise of the game.”

“I don’t like this fuckin’ app,” Bondy said, laughing, and put his phone back in his shirt pocket.

“You’re going to have to remove that from your shirt pocket,” you told Bondy. “And the pack of ciggies you’ve got lingering in your front jeans pocket. I see you,” you motioned between your eyes and his with two fingers.

“Do what the woman says, Bond,” Van piped up, and smiled softly at you. For once that day, you felt like smiling back. Caffeine works wonders.

Camera in hand, you walked over to them and put your elbow on your hip. “I know you’re all tired, and so am I, so let’s try to get these done as quickly as possible.”

*****

That same night, shortly before closing time, glow from the safelight bulbs washed the studio darkroom in redness. You were dipping photos in solution, and hanging them on the clothespin against the wall to dry.

A knock at the outer door in the hall caused your concentration to break, and you jumped a bit. You were the only one in the office adjoining the studio today.

You pressed the intercom button on the far wall. “I’ll be out in a second!” you called, and removed your gloves.

You made sure the light was turned off in the hall before you opened the door, and then locked the darkroom before opening the hall door into the main studio, where Van himself was stood admiring your past photography framed on the industrial brick walls.

“Hello, love,” Van said, moving to stand closer to your desk. He’d changed clothes since the shoot, into a simple black short sleeve and black denim. You walked behind the desk in the studio and sat in your chair, waiting for him to speak again.

“It’s Van McCann, remember me?”

“How could I forget such a charming and resourceful person. Can I help you tonight, Van?”

“Just checking the status on those photos,” he said, tongue between his teeth.

“Unfortunately, they can only be picked up by the person who booked the shoot… and in your case, that’s Mike. Also, it takes at least a week to process them and log them. You’re a tad bit early, I’m afraid.”

You shook the computer mouse back and forth to revive your sleeping computer, and in your Catfish business folder, you made a note that said Van tried to pick up photos under the “Contact” spreadsheet.

Van leaned his elbows across the high shelf of the desk, and peered down at you, coquettish smile on his face. “Can’t you make an exception for little old me?”

“Are you…. flirting with me?”

“Might be.”

“Well, I have to close up shop in a few, Mr. McCann, so if you’re going to ask me out, make it quick.”

“As quick as the film retrieval, or?” he trailed off, smiling so hard his teeth could bust.

“Quicker than that.”

******

The next day at the studio, Kelsey was talkative.

“So, Y/N, how’d it go?”

“What do you mean, Kels?”

“Last night.”

“Wha ---”

“You wrote a note in the spreadsheet that Van tried to come pick up photos. The spreadsheet was still up on the computer, which you never accidentally leave open, or turned on, meaning something had to have happened to get you distracted. And then, after I’d seen that, I got a call from the band’s manager, Mike, asking to come round to pick up the photos today, meaning Van didn’t retrieve them. So I knew he was up to something. And you can’t wipe the grin off your face today. Which I guess answers the question -- last night went great.”

“I mean, yeah. We went to dinner. He seems traditional but fun. I laughed my ass off. It was…. good.” You tried to brush it off nonchalantly. Kelsey smiled mirthfully.

“Not in that way, Kelsey, he and I just met.”

“I never know with you! Remember the time---”

The banter was interrupted by a ring of the bells over the studio door.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Van sauntered in, carrying a vase overflowing with sunflowers. “These are for you.”

“Holy fuck,” Kelsey whispered, giggling softly to herself.

Your eyes widened as you silently took the vase from him. When you’d caught your breath, blush still fire engine red and evident on your cheeks, you turned to him. “Sunflowers are my favorite.”

He winked, and said, “how about coming out to lunch with me today?”

*****

The chivalry continued throughout the next several weeks, and you and Van saw each other at least every other day. Sometimes he’d pop into your studio with a coffee for you, other times he’d find a way to whisk you away for an afternoon of fun. You two were inseparable. All the original disgruntled feelings you’d felt toward him had vanished the night he came into the office late.

“Van, today’s your lucky day,” you called to him. He was in the main part of the studio, visiting you of course, but also chatting it up with a friend who knew Bob.

He walked over to your desk and leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Am I going to get lucky on this lucky day? After all, I am Irish. The luck abounds.”

“Maybe, if you don’t keep spitting in my ear,” you laughed.

Van glanced at your computer monitor and smiled. “These the photos?”

“Mmhhm! The second set you came back for, after the first press shoot. The ones where you all weren’t being assholes.”

Van smiled. “But if the band hadn’t been so uncooperative, we’d have never got on so well.”

You chuckled, “Maybe so.” You shifted your gaze back to the computer, and put on a presenter’s voice. “Fresh off the press, edited by my own hand. Digitized for you and your friends. Want to have a look?”

Van let you scroll past a few before commenting. Mike had given orders that they be transformed from color to black and white. That was easy, but finding a photo where they all looked decent and not like angry Arctic Monkeys fans was a challenge. You were able to find a few for their next press photos.

“Shit, you make me look good,” Van snickered, pointing at his jawline in one photo.

“You already look good.”

“But like… better.”

You scrolled past a few more, enchanting Van with the photos. When he spoke up again, his voice was a bit softer.

“You just make me better.”

You weren’t expecting such sincerity. You leaned up to where he was propped over the desk and kissed him. His plump lips tasted like the cherry chapstick he borrowed from you earlier.

“And I know we’ve only been going out together for two months, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your back arched with a tingle and you sat up straight in your chair. Fuck. No. Nope. It was too early for this, wasn’t it? Every nerve in your body was fighting the urge to hyperventilate. There’s no way he could love you this soon. Were you excited? But you were used to being independent. Breathe. He was good for you though. But what if it was a trap? You needed to--

“I’m going on tour.”

“Thank God,” you huffed out, relaxing in your chair.

“What?” Van asked, shocked.

“No! No, I meant... sorry… I didn’t mean that I’m glad you’re leaving. I just thought you were about to tell me you loved me.” You facepalmed. He smiled, and laid his chin to rest on his hand, looking you in the eyes.

“That too.”

[ariyadaivaris]

o fuck okay uhhhhhhh i wrote this awhile ago when mustafa was called to sd because i was sad and am still embarrassed to poast it but its late and hopefully no one will Keep Reading so ill archive it here i suppose and if its still bad and embarrassing you can just pretend not to see anything i promise i wont be hurt or anything thanks love u

     cedric envelops mustafa in a hug in that way where he's really clinging to mustafa more than he is folding him up in his arms. the way he does when his Want to pick him up and swing him around is overruled by wanting him to shine on cedric, wanting to soak in the light he carries with him at all times. mustafa can read it, he likes to think he reads people okay after years of applying poetry and practice to them, but it still makes his heart break quietly! cedric doesn't break down or stop running the way mustafa does, he doesn't fall to his knees or sink against walls or stop moving without a closed door between him and Eyes, but in these brief moments mustafa feels cedric's heart like a mirror, like the shadowed silhouette of himself. so tired, so aching, so longing to be listened to, so longing to be soothed.      mustafa keeps listening to the conversation, he can't just walk away now, but he finds one of cedric's hands resting over his own heart and laces his fingers through. reassuringly squeezes, promising to hold on and let cedric anchor down as soon as he can, just a few minutes, love.     minutes pass, and ariya disengages, and mustafa can finally look at cedric and smile and lead him somewhere for just themselves. cedric smiles back, and beneath his sincere smile, charming and earnest as ever, there's an exhaustion etched so plain mustafa wants to weep. it's dramatic and cedric would never stand for such a reaction but mustafa can't help feeling it, that anything in the world could have carved out such a sorrow in cedric's face! that anything could wear that back into his eyes! it makes mustafa want to turn back on the world and curl around cedric like a crocus in reverse, denying the weak spring the ability to freeze cedric out, protecting him and holding him and smoothing everything around him till nothing aches again. he feels a love like a child does, naive and unconditional and beyond the bounds of reason, a desire to make things stop, put them all on hold for one thing and one thing alone, not thinking about logic as long as cedric looks less /tired/.      but there will be aches. mustafa cannot hold the seasons at bay, cannot keep the sun from burning, and he knows cedric would never allow him to. so he allows cedric, instead. allows him to lead where mustafa can follow, allows him to find his footing before settling in to talk to mustafa.      they find their way to a stairwell, find their way out near the top of the stadium, where seating is tucked behind windows and no one has thought to convene up here when the day is over and they've parked stories below. in the hallways winding round the area, mustafa waits for cedric to settle, or to start talking, with his hands tucked in his pockets jittery with the urge to Touch. he doesn't get the chance. cedric touches first, suddenly grabs his arm and pulls him in and hugs him tight.      mustafa is Not A Big Fan of sudden touch and cedric knows that, but through the alarm he tries to think that if cedric's this quick to hold him, something's up. he pulls his arms out, curls them around cedric's back, and cedric tucks his head beneath mustafa's chin as much as he can.       "i don't want you to go," he says finally, quiet and ashamed and small.       mustafa's heart crumbles.       "i know you wanna go," cedric says, "and i want you to go and be happy and show everyone that the heart still beats, but i don't want you to go." he pulls away (shame, shame, shame), tries to draw his arms closer to himself and his eyes even further from mustafa's. "i know that's selfish," he says.       the air feels colder on mustafa's arms without cedric in them. "no, no," he says, torn between reaching out and putting his own hands away as well, "cedric, that's not selfish. i don't wanna leave you guys." the oxygen in the room feels so icy in his mouth, his heart aching and bruised. "i don't wanna leave you," he says, softly. "i'm not leaving, you know? we're still travelling the same shows. we're still sharing tuesdays. even if we weren't, i'd still find you wherever you were, you know that, right?"      "i know," cedric says, shoulders hunching almost defensive, "i just--you're--they don't deserve you. WE barely deserve you, smackdown doesn't--"      "no!" mustafa interrupts, and he winces immediately at how harsh it sounds. "no, don't say that, you guys are the world to me, you don't have to be DESERVING of--"      "i know, i know, i'm sorry." cedric is sorry. his eyes are still low and ringed with dark circles behind his glasses, and mustafa wants to sprout wings and tuck cedric so warm and safe and close in soft white feathers and absorb anything that ever made him feel so helpless.      "i get it," he offers, gently. "it's alright."      they're both quiet, and after deliberating it, mustafa finally closes the distance between them and hugs cedric again, chin on his shoulder, feeling the strength and nobility and weight of the man in his arms and so painfully aware how little that means in this whole process. "i'm the heart of 205, remember? you're not getting rid of me so easy."      "i know," cedric says soft, and leans into mustafa, allowing himself to be held. after a few seconds of breathing together, trying to make the rhythm coalesce, cedric murmurs, "i'm happy for you."      mustafa smiles and closes his eyes and tears he didn't know had welled up drop on cedric's hoodie. "thank you. i love you, cedric. always will."      "love you, too."

[kyulkyungs]

reverse-idol!doyoung | pt.2

Request: heyyy! i just found your blog while looking for seventeen and nct aus and honestly so far i’ve read everything of the masterlist and your work is amazing. Since the request box is open i was wondering if you could do a part 2 of doyoung reverse idol au? something like where one lucky fan get selected to go on the date with reader and doyoung gets picked. can’t help but ask since doyoung reverse idol au have to be my favorite and it’s rare that you find many doyoung aus on Tumblr. (Hi!!! Thank you!!! This really made my day akgndndhsjab)

(part 1 found here!)

others: jaehyun (part 2) | jaemin (part 2) | haechan (part 2) | renjun | jisung

so honestly after meeting you at a fansign, doyoung had been so, so, so elated

the others begged him to at least see a couple photos but he keeps kicking them back

thEY’RE PRECIOUS YOU CAN SEE THEM WHEN I’VE MADE ANOTHER EDIT

he’s actually really proud of them though since they’re pretty high quality

taeyong just wants to see his baby bias wrecker c’mon

but after seeing you in person doyoung has an even greater respect for you

because despite the exhaustion and hard work you have to go through every hour of the day, you’re smiling in every single one of the photos he has

when he hears rumors of a guerrilla concert he goes into full on frenzy mode???

it’s like a full on heist team with him and the others to find out where, when, and why??? like you’re already loaded with the schedules so this???

but a part of him pushes that side down since it was most likely planned by your group and………

he’ll get to you see you again

right at the moment where the boys are still scouring over social media posts, that were also asking questions and screaming, there’s a vlive alert and they all pOUNCE

you’re the first one that pops up on screen and you look confused because of those darn connection issues

but doyoung can barely suppress this goofy grin on his face for you

and then you check your phone to see how good the connection is on there and that’s when he spots the little key chain he gave you at the fansign

and his heart does a little beep because wOW??? you kept it???!!! and used it?!?!

and when one of your members pokes fun at you for being childish with the keychain, you defend yourself by roasting them so horridly that another member falls over laughing

and doyoung is so proud of you and laughs so loudly cause he can’t help it

and taeyong is shocked his baby has grown up so much, which leads to doyoung swatting him some more

but eventually you and the other members are talking excitedly about the guerrilla concert and as fate would have it……….

the connection drops right when you guys were going to announce the location

which makes all the guys scream and shake the screen around

but it quickly cuts back in to your group screaming as well and shaking you because…. just because

bUT AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT!!!!

the concert would be held in a park that was only half an hour away from where doyoung and his pals lived and he was???? elated!!!!

he got to see you again!! and he had an advantage of knowing the park inside and out because the guys played there all the time and he just

wow he’s so excited!!!!

and then over the course of the next week, the boys are all planning who’s bringing what and where they’re going to be seated to watch

it wasn’t actually revealed where exactly in the park you’d be performing in, so it was up to them to figure out

they had an entire whoppin’ load of bulletin board, connecting strings, and multiple photos set up like they were solving a conspiracy

until sicheng literally just pulled up your group’s social media account and the most recent post was an apology for forgetting that detail and then the location of where it’d be the day before the concert

the day of, doyoung was so so so excited but he didn’t want to look like a complete dork

(it was too late for that lmao)

but he played everything off and pretended to be That Super Cool Guy

and the only reason why he brought five sd cards this time was because he “wanted more editing material and pictures because the others kept bothering him for some pictures”

and while his friends and him are waiting, they are eventually joined by a bunch of other fans

and he can tell that there’s some that traveled many hours away just to see your group and it kind of warms his heart because it shows that your dreams are coming true

and eventually the stage that was already set up begins to light up and doyoung is exhaling with relief because he’s so glad his friends and him got there p early since they have a pretty good view of the stage

and when you come on stage to greet everyone, you’re letting someone else do the greeting while you scan the crowd

and you see a familiar camera snapping photos and a grin behind that lens

and you make sure to smile and then like last time…

give him a thumbs up and small nod as if to say ‘did it come out well’?

and doyoung moves the camera away and mouths ‘always does’

and you swear it’s the sun peeking through the clouds that warms up your cheeks

while you’re performing, doyoung manages to succeed in taking very lovely photos

his favorite is when you’re not looking directly at the camera and your eyes are looking somewhat down and your eyelashes are really thick and prominent and your hair is falling a little over your face but it’s enough for someone to see the fullness of your lips

totally not doyoung’s words

but he has so many fine shots of you and some of the others as well

after the concert, you guys are thanking everyone who showed up and saying goodbye

and the boys are packing up their stuff and making sure they have everything and everyone

i swear johnny and his giant self got separated walking in a large open space

and when everyone is leaving and watching the tech crew start deconstructing everything, mark complains of thirst since he shared the rest of his bottle with yuta laser eyes

so they all make a stop at a local cafe to sit down and relax and talk about everything for a bit

while doyoung is looking through his pictures, he looks up for a second and sees nearly the same exact image from his screen

up and down up and down anD YOU’RE THERE??????

he freaks out highkey, which gathers your attention and all of a sudden you’RE COMING OVER!!!!!

the others realize what’s going on and push him a little and he flushes and you’re laughing at the sight because it’s p funny and kind of………c u t e

you’re standing in front of the table and smiling specifically at doyoung but you do make your rounds and doyoung is grateful for sitting at the end of the table cause he’s closest to you

“did you come here to buy a drink?” doyoung finds himself asking and then you’re nodded and laughing a little

“actually i’m here to buy my entire group drinks… i lost rock paper scissors……… but i wouldn’t mind losing every time if it ended up like this”

and doyoung catches on realizing what you meant when you make eye contact with him and turn red and start shuffling your feet

in an instant, doyoung stands and is offering to buy all the drinks for you

and you’re turning even redder because nOO…….. he couldn’t possibly…… he doesn’t have to

and he pulls a smooth move and is basically like “you worked hard for it, you deserve it”

and just slides past you with an angelic smile and you’re watching him walk into the line and the guys at the table are all chuckling and laughing a little

“is he usually like that?”

“lOL no he??? pffff”

and then you realize that doyoung is getting closer to the counter and he has no idea what to order so you rush over there and nearly crash into him

but you come to a stop right next to him and……..

your shoulders are brushing and wow he’s……. he’s really warm

and he smiles down at you and laughs a little at your red face but

don’t tell anyone but he’s screaming on the inside big time

“so what did your group want?”

“oh……..”

“??????” doyoung sees you fiddling with your hands and turning even redder and he finds that actually really, really endearing and cute

“well…………………… you see……………… actually…………… i came in here because………….. uh… because i saw you come in here………. and i used my group as an excuse to see you again……”

and then doyoung is smiling really widely because.. him??? out of all people???

he only saw you once and….. wow????

and you get really flustered and start babbling about this and that but doyoung is still having a mini heart attack

“well… what do you want?”

and you were mid-babble so you were confused until doyoung referred to the menu and asked you what you wanted

“uhh… you don’t have to get us anything still…….”

“since you don’t have to get your group anything, i want to get you something”

and your heart starts to beat a little faster and when you see the genuine smile and gleam in his eyes you find yourself smiling too

and you were definitely sure that in any rock paper scissors battle… you’d lose every time if it ended up like this

[pllsetskyonice]

if this night is not is not forever, at least we are together

Otayuri Week Day 1: First Times/Confessions

Words: 2.8K 

Featuring: DJ Otabek, Artist Yuri, Photographer Phichit and a whole host of drunken antics. 

AO3 link

It starts with a doodle in the margin of his art history notes that, when he looks at it from the right angle, looks like Otabek. Then there’s the midnight scrawls in his journals when he pours his heart out onto the page in smudgy ink, and when he rereads them the next day, it’s clear in his mind that the rambles that fill page after page are only about one person. Slowly, bits of Otabek start creeping into his art, snippets of things he’s written in journals, half remembered conversations immortalised in paint, some of the writing covered in angry strokes of red acrylic or made barely legible by the ink running down the page. He’s under his skin, and Yuri doesn’t really know why, or how to make it stop, how to make it go away, or anything that could possibly make the situation any better.

And whilst that might well be the start, it’s not technically the beginning.

- 

“Yuri! You came!” Victor opens the door of his apartment with a smile on his face a mile wide, a drink in his hand and his boyfriend Yuuri clinging to his waist. “Did you bring vodka?”

“Duh,” he says, holding up the bottle. He can hear laughter and music coming from inside, some loud EDM that the neighbours are probably going to complaining about in a few hours’ time. “Who’s here?”

“Everyone,” Yuuri says, swaying slightly. The top few buttons of his shirt are undone and his eyes look kind of distant. He’s completely smashed, but Yuri’s not surprised. Yuuri’s got a bit of a reputation when it comes to parties. “Even Otabek came. He’s DJ-ing”

“The mysterious music student?” Yuri asks, and Victor nods in confirmation. “Nice. You going to let me in now or what?”

-

The music seems to get louder the more Yuri drinks. Someone drags him into some stupid drinking game that ends with him doing far more shots that he usually would do, Victor orders pizza halfway through the night because “you should probably all eat something, Jesus”, and Phichit has brought his camera and keeps taking photos that Yuri’s probably going to have to systematically untag himself from in the morning.

The party is in full swing when Otabek, who’s spent the entire night mixing songs and matching the lights to the music, appears at Yuri’s side. Yuri looks at him, confused, because he’s meant to be at the decks, not here on the dancefloor, until he looks over to the other side of the room and sees that Leo has taken over. “Oh,” Yuri says.

“What?” Otabek asks, a frown settling across his brow. “Is something wrong?”

“No, but you were there, and now you’re not, and I was confused, because you were supposed to be over there and I –” Yuri stops himself from rambling on further and making even more of an embarrassment of himself. “Have you been drinking? I don’t think you’re drunk enough.” Yuri walks over to the drinks table, grabbing Otabek’s hand and dragging him across the room with him. “Shots,” Yuri states, grabbing the nearest bottle of vodka and starting to pour the liquid into the small glasses. “You’re doing two for every one I do.”

“Vodka’s not really my thing.”

“Tough shit.” Yuri pushes two thirds of the glasses in Otabek’s direction. “On my count. One – two – three!”

They do the shots, the disgust on Otabek’s face obvious the further down the line he gets. Once the last glass is back on the table, Yuri grabs his hand again and leads Otabek over to where Chris is sitting with a couple of other people. “Chris! Is it about time for another drinking game?”

“Yuri, you read my mind,” Chris says with a smirk. “Ring of Fire?”

“Perfect.”

The game gets underway quickly, with most people playing. There’s some argument about the rules at first, but it’s soon forgotten as soon as the game progresses. Otabek breaks the circle first, meaning that he has to do another shot, something which he complains about bitterly: “You didn’t tell me that was a rule!”

“I thought it was obvious!”

The game carries on, consisting of some dubious rhymes whenever a nine is pulled from the circle, and groans whenever more gets added to the cup in the middle. Otabek picks up the last king, and Yuri tries not to let the smile show on his face.

“Unlucky, my friend,” Chris says with a grin, passing Otabek the cup that was in the middle. “A delicate mix of vodka, orange juice, coke, wine, and possibly some whiskey as well. Good luck.”

Otabek sniffs the contents of the cup gingerly. “That smells fucking disgusting.”

“That’s kind of the point,” Yuri says. “We –” he starts to sing, and the others soon join in with:

“LIKE TO DRINK WITH BEKA, CAUSE BEKA IS OUR MATE, WE LIKE TO DRINK WITH BEKA, CAUSE HE GETS IT DOWN IN EIGHT, SEVEN, SIX, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO – AYYYYY!”

The cup is empty and Otabek looks like he’s regretting every decision he’s ever made as he places the cup back on the table. Yuri counts this as a win, yells at Leo to turn the music up, then drags Beka onto the dance floor.

It’s a while later, when the alcohol has truly taken affect and all inhibitions have gone out of the window, that Yuri finds himself invading Beka’s space more, the thoughts of how Phichit definitely has this immortalised on his SD card far, far away.

“Do you, um,” Yuri stops himself for a moment, before thinking fuck it and carrying on, “Do you want to get out of here?”

Otabek looks mildly surprised for a brief moment, but he soon composes himself. “You sure?”

Yuri rolls his eyes and stands on his tiptoes where he pulls Otabek into a rough kiss. “Yes,” he snaps. “I’m sure.”

“Well, in that case,” Otabek says, pulling Yuri in for another kiss, “I’d love to.”

-

And so, that’s the beginning, where Yuri drunkenly hooks up with Otabek Altin at Victor’s party, where he’s 90% sure Phichit definitely got a shot of them stumbling into the spare room together and emerging a while later with untucked shirts and ruffled hair. It doesn’t really hit Yuri until the next morning when he wakes up with a hangover and a line of hickeys down his neck that he actually slept with the guy. He doesn’t regret it, per se, but he just feels a bit weird. He’s not used to casual sex. He doesn’t know the protocol. Is he just supposed to act like it never happened?

He decides that probably best, as he doesn’t see Otabek that much around campus anyway. For the moment, he groans, rolls over and does his best to ignore his headache as he tries to get back to sleep.

-

Because the universe hates him or something, Otabek seems to be around every corner when Yuri gets to university on Monday. After Yuri’s nearly bumped into him on the stairs, in the cafeteria and the library, he’s had enough. He walks into his Art History lecture after lunch and slams his notebook down on the desk with so much ferocity half the class turns around and stares at him.

Mila raises an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?” she asks from her seat next to Yuri. “Mysterious Kazakh music students, perhaps?”

“Can you not?” Yuri snaps.

“So you did sleep with him then? I thought Chris was just making shit up.”

Yuri lets that go unanswered as their professor walks into the lecture hall and starts setting up today’s power point. “So you did?” Mila says, her voice now lowered to a whisper. “Damn it, Yuri, you beat me into Altin’s pants. I’m so jealous. Was he good?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” Mila says with a smirk that turns into a grin as she notices the smile on Yuri’s lips that he tries to hide. “Oh my god, you lucky bastard!”

Yuri tunes out the rest of Mila’s whispering, listening to the lecturer instead. He tries to focus on making notes, but his pen has other ideas, doodling random stuff in the margins of his notebook. There are musical notes, a pair of headphones, and the beginnings of a portrait that looks suspiciously like –

“Oh wow, you’ve got it bad,” Mila comments as she looks over his shoulder.

“I know,” Yuri mutters miserably. “I know.”

-

The parties that happen next follow a strikingly similar pattern. Otabek starts the night off DJ-ing, then gets drunk with Yuri before the two of them go off somewhere to have sex. Once, it’s in the bathroom at Mickey and Sara’s place. Another time, it’s on the sofa in Chris’ living room when everyone else in the kitchen. Then there’s the time at Emil’s on top of the washing machine, and the one where Otabek pulls Yuri into the hall at Seung-Gil’s to blow him. Yuri’s getting up from returning the favour when Phichit appears around the corner, camera in hand. There’s an awkward moment of silence because it’s painfully obvious what’s been going on before Phichit lifts his camera up, takes a photo, and says “I’m just gonna… go.”

As Phichit disappears back into the living room, Otabek and Yuri make a silent agreement to be a lot more careful next time.

-

Except next time never comes. Otabek stops showing up at parties and Yuri soon does too, because Victor keeps complaining about how miserable he looks and there’s no point being there if Otabek isn’t there anyway. Instead, Yuri stays at home, listening to depressing songs about unrequited love and broken hearts, scribbling his thoughts and half remembered conversations down in his notebook in smudgy ink.

…it’s not fair, all of this, because you were there and now you’re not and I don’t know what to do now that you’re not showing up any more…

…seriously, fuck it all. It’s all your fault anyway. I don’t care if I kissed you first, you were the one that kept coming back for more and that means IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT…

…I’m all fucked up because of you. What have you done to me?

He pretends he doesn’t cry and that Otabek isn’t under his skin in the way he so clearly is. He pretends he doesn’t care, pretends it all meant nothing, pretends that he’s dealing with it even though he’s clearly not.

He plays pretend, and hopes it’ll all go away.

It doesn’t.

-

It gets worse.

Yuri’s moved onto a new project in his practical art class, one that’s centred around letters and words and how they’re used in art. It seems the natural thing to do to use the three am ramblings from his journal as the start of his project, except he quickly realises it’s doing nothing for the healing process apart from picking away at an already barely formed scab.

He works on a big scale and with a limited colour palette, covering A1 sheets of paper in red and grey acrylic, letting black ink drip down the page after spending hours rewriting bits of his journal onto the page. He uses layers, cutting up newspapers and rearranging the words to represent his feelings, paints letters onto bits of paper like Scrabble tiles and pastes them on top of his work.

He wanders into the studio one afternoon after a lecture to find Victor staring intently at his work.

“Why are you even in here?” Yuri asks as he puts his bag down on his desk. “Aren’t you meant to be teaching a bunch of freshmen or something?”

“That’s on Tuesdays.” Victor turns round to look at Yuri, a serious look on his face. “It’s about Otabek, isn’t it? All of this?”

“Who?” Yuri feigns ignorance as he digs his brush roll out of his bag and goes to the sink to fill his water jars. He goes around the art studio collecting the tubes of paint, bottles of ink and scraps of paper that he needs, and by the time he gets back to his desk, Victor is still standing there looking slightly concerned. “What?”

“You’re in love with him.”

“I – what – excuse me, I am not!”

“Yes you are,” Victor says simply. “Just look at your own work. It’s obvious to anyone that was at any of the parties you not-so-secretly hooked up with him at. You’re in love with him, Yuri. You need to realise it.”

-

…I’m crying, because I realise it now. I’m in love with him.

-

“Can you help me with my photography project?”

Yuri’s sitting in the library working on an essay for his art history class when Phichit slides into the seat opposite him, camera bag over his shoulder and a mischievous grin on his face. Yuri stops typing and glares at Phichit over the top of his laptop. “Why me?”

“Because I need a guy with long hair? Also I’m asking you? Please?”

Yuri sighs. “Fine.”

“Great! Are you free now?”

Yuri considers snapping something along the lines of clearly not, can’t you see I’m working, but instead finds himself saving his essay and shutting the book he working from. “I need to go and check this book out, but yeah, I’m free now.”

-

…I was asked to think about a person I love today. And, even though I knew it was coming, I found myself surprised when I started thinking of the sound of your voice, and the feeling of my skin against yours, and all the stolen moments we had together. I thought about you kissing me and how our bodies moved in such perfect harmony together even though we were drunk at the time. I thought about how I liked the marks you left on me, how they made me smile when I saw them in the mirror, how they served as a reminder for a more exciting time. They asked me if I was thinking about you, and I – well.

I said yes.

-

“Talk to me about this,” Yuri’s art tutor Yakov says, waving a hand at the artwork spread across the table. “What’s it about?”

“Love,” Yuri replies simply. “It’s about love.”

-

There’s an exhibition at the end of term in which all the art and photography students showcase their work from the semester. Yuri’s work, which is now on huge canvases that take up most of one wall, is drawing a lot of attention, as is Phichit’s photography work. Yuri hasn’t gone into the photography section yet, he’s been too busy answering questions about his work, but he eventually manages to sneak away.

Phichit’s exhibition is titled Then & Now, and it makes Yuri stand stock still.

The photographs are of him and Otabek. The Then section shows shots from the parties, of them talking and laughing, of them kissing, of them leaving Victor and Yuuri’s spare bedroom with secretive smiles on their faces and fingers intertwined. They’re all in bright colours that stand out from the stark whiteness of the wall, and they’re all vastly different from the Now section of Phichit’s exhibition.

The Now section showcases candid photographs of him and Otabek in black and white, taken in various places around campus. There’s him in the art room working on his pieces, in the library, in a lecture theatre. Otabek is in the music rooms, in the recording studio, sitting on a park bench with his laptop on his knee, his headphones on and a look of intense concentration on his face. The separation between them is clear, and it makes Yuri’s mouth go dry as the message sinks in.

“Heard I was making quite the stir around here.”

Yuri looks to his left where the voice is coming from and feels a smile play at his lips when he sees who’s standing there. “I heard that too.”

“I saw your art,” Otabek says. “It was… something.”

“Is that a good something or a bad something?” Yuri asks with an eyebrow raised.

“A good something, definitely,” Otabek replies. “It’s powerful. Made me think. Are you really… are you really in love with me?”

“Yes,” Yuri says, because there’s no point in denying in, the words I’m in love with him are spray painted in two foot high letters across the canvases. It was obvious to anyone, even if they didn’t know who it was directed at.

Otabek smiles. “Well, then, do you want to get out of here?”

“I’d love to.”

-

…life has a cyclical nature to it. It’s clichéd, I know, but it’s true: everything from fashion trends to the rain falling from the sky happens in a cycle. And now I’m here, drinking with him again with the knowledge that we’re probably going to have sex again later, and although we’ve come back to the beginning, somehow, it’s an entirely new start.

rest of the series on AO3 / tumblr

[chinad]

timed killing as sanctum precaution.



Sep 6, 2017

dreamt of bring my son traveling to my hometown. in suburb of our current town, passing a hotel we met many witches and wizards. some ambushed us. some cursed us. some stealed us. some transfered our appearance. in first attack, my son lost his outdoor baggage in a blink. second attack turned my son a disabled kid with damaged arms, lost his 2 mobiles I prepared 2 years ago. my son later told me he hide them in a place intact. we were heading to a bus stop where we will travel to Tianjin, north China where I graduated and broke my heart for a girl collegian. in Tianjin we will switch a bus then reach its railway station and head to our hometown in central China. in homeless and changing fake idol, we held each other firm against misleading exerted by those dark power. sometimes I want blamed my son according his performance but I later gave up, for they were forged and fake. some witch attempted to trade or threat, and attacked after our refusal. its a frightening dream. my neck turns more stiff and painful after nap. last night I ate too much, esp snack from street vendor near dorm gate and got sore water in throat midnight after woke up abrupt. I so gave up breakfast in canteen, and just napped. there were so many hatred in area of QRRS that I really felt. for example, the day before yesterday, a pile of dog shit or feces laid exactly front entrance of the dorm gate which using fence to narrow route. I after dinner and routine dusk jog started and in a blink stepped onto it through the limited gate. the night a middle size rain cleanse the dirty road. then in last dusk another small plastic bag in which likely bloods and dirts held laid there, pits the road block. a stubborn freak in his 60 or 70 constantly challenges me on my way jogging in dusk. twice the sin copied and according my changed route around the QRRS square just to facing me and deface my innocence. God grants my killing over the rubbish, the enemies of zhone Royal China. its a sunny noon now. I sunburn after lunch in the dorm minigarden, till nearby Senior middle school students came canteen for lunch. its very brilliant during recent clouds and rains. God dad, you guide me so far I didn't make any change around me. you tells me my security intact so far for future more widespread slaughter. yes dad God, I remember and trying remember the betray and profanation of my Royal China. grant me lighter heart for enjoying my daily bread and social times. bring me my Japanese Crown Queen, Asoh Yukiko, for better future of felling PRC, failing Chinese on mainland. guarantee our spiritual uprising on Christian way. thx dad God.

Sep 5, 2017

dreamt with a Russian scholar visited Bill Gates' futuristic house. Bill at first introduce his encyclopedia. then his wife treated us dinner. his daughter also appeared. while lingering I studied my subjects. yesterday I in my life first time received dental health care: teeth cleaning. it's a small local clinic, which charged me ￥80, dearer than most web q/a. but the girl likely a deputy doctor worked diligently and careful. the second half operative did by another woman likely a doctor and a bit harsher. uncomfortable in the procedure ignorable but time spent endures matters. I spent near 1 hour, even when I left I felt relived. its my 1st step adopting western lifestyle in grace and managed. last Sunday afternoon I arranged woz monthly cinema. I waited him from his music class half hour in Qiqihar supermarket. the nearby guard of the market even doubting my task while I using my mobile to read there but no communication in air. after my son gloriously appeared, I presented him ice drink, movie "Dunkirk", and hotpot before taxied home. its wonderfully planned and executed in a pack. but the night I slept so deep that next morning I felt clueless and unclear when I visited my son for shower in public spa. his computer locked him out after too many logon failure due to the problematic mouse. so I spent another half day to reinstall windows. his mom, the small bitch, tentatively brought him out and lingered somewhere lately after 7pm when I left the house after settle all issues fixed. I wanted to report to my son my achievement and confidential but unable. my son also forgot bringing his mobile in usual hurry with his domineer mom. returned to dorm, I doubt if I carried frustration and tasteless after my son under expectation so many times putting me in despicable. but I decided to care my son full heart. so I buzzed him online and introduce my finished work and blamed him for dispensable mobile, which blocked my access instant and let me felt inferior to his mom hijacking him with superficial educational purposed activities. PRC government like a cheap teacher monopolies education and all time pretending orthodox draining otherwise creative initiatives. God dad, break through the fake idol, free my Chinese society from lifeless stagnant. bring me my Royal China, and my Crown Queen Asoh Yukiko from Japan, for humanizing social flesh and architecture. grant me sustaining my adorable domains with meaningful future world mapping.

Sep 1, 2017

first dreamt a veteran politician intended to make me a mayor. I then follows a group municipal bureaucracy to a mine field in city hall. we each hunted for diamond, golds, etc. then dreamt I was an entrepreneur. our product is astronomical components. then dreamt a group tourists visiting my elder brother's house. they likely helped my brother for his celebration of event with their colorful performance show. after they all left marching I left to blog in dream but delayed and unable settle. my youngest elder sister and my 3nd nephew accompanied me at home. when the guests came back, we and friends of my elder brother grouped into 2 delegations to compete with dart or shooting. my son attracted many audiences with his adorable when the party went hot. its a sunny morning while I napped most of mornings in the week. last night is strange: I recklessly tried to protect the dorm canteen after noticed likely mafia threatened and extracted custody fee. recently in at least 3 occasions I saw hooligans lingering in dorm canteen, superficially peacefully occupied seats with fewer orders but just wasted time unusually late. that's threat of troubles. last dusk I brought the canteen another water melon from street vendor and let canteen workers prepared some for me to eat. there were only another guy in the dorm there for dinner, and a 3 middle aged men group there detaining with few orders. I felt glad with my melon and soon left. in my room I reviewed the scenario and perceived the canteen operating family's under bully. so I re-visit there and saw only their kid and their father left accompanied the lingering pests. I loudly talked with the old father and angers left me left abrupt. in half hour I visited the canteen 3rd time. the 3 hooligans left in dark dusk with heavy bags each. I urged the father if they had problem they should contact QRRS authority but he shown skepticism. in the night I review my situation with rotten PRC society under shadow of world largest mafia, CCP, dogs tyranny. God, sooner or later your faith holder will be attested against sins and swan song of warlord, world communism esp inflated PRC. instil us with strength of faithful. shift us from dangers of brutal accusation. bring me sooner my Royal China, and Asoh Yukiko, my Crown Queen from Japan, to enhance my life span. bring me stable investment reward for constant growth in business. thx dad, for the peace and hope.

Aug 25, 2017

napped since morning and dropped lunch. dreamt in earlier era with my elder brother vivid and his pals trading & discussing startup a company. I with my son interested in accounting and attempted to work for them in its early phrase and brought some innovative ideas. then dreamt in marching army. when the army at rest during raining, we tried to cross some units seeking for shower. in a jammed barrack girl and boy Scouts trade their items. I offered a sd card to trade, likely with my son's companion, at least 5 or more items from different traders gathered in front for exchange, including cards and other gadgets. most of the pals so friendly that we glad there for a drifting living. I woke up at noon when sunny outside. last night my son told me his Junior school life started with army training camp as prewarm. that explained why the night before yesterday he slept before 8 pm when I buzzed in. on his face some appear some hard thorns, as on his arm, that aroused my notice during our video chat online. he might frustrated. I also soon to search web for what it is. God, dad, we trust your mercy. then I regretted my unease would cause my son's overreaction with burden. I watched some embarrassing human bodies videos on youtube, and fragile of healthy body taught me lessons. I long time afraid of virus and that worsened when I napped. I unease with my pillow, one of them cheap quality and some dirty spots appeared even disgusting blackened. I felt my neck itching but I know mostly it's fake response. dad God, in siege of zhone's enemies, we naturally alert upon poisons, insanities and profanations. God, last dusk I saw separating us from common wealth of Zhong society attempts, threaten me of baseless includes my current comparable stable life with economic income. God dad, my ancestor left me resourceful and basic supportive standard allowing my innovative upgrade to breakthrough stagnant smothers Chinese society in hundred decades in failing sanity. that's my mission in this era. grant us freedom of starvation, brutal labor, motionless, and shoulder me on resilient of Zhong in relations. dad God, promise me the value of my workload.

via Blogger http://ift.tt/2gLYsM0

[be21zh]



Sep 6, 2017

dreamt of bring my son traveling to my hometown. in suburb of our current town, passing a hotel we met many witches and wizards. some ambushed us. some cursed us. some stealed us. some transfered our appearance. in first attack, my son lost his outdoor baggage in a blink. second attack turned my son a disabled kid with damaged arms, lost his 2 mobiles I prepared 2 years ago. my son later told me he hide them in a place intact. we were heading to a bus stop where we will travel to Tianjin, north China where I graduated and broke my heart for a girl collegian. in Tianjin we will switch a bus then reach its railway station and head to our hometown in central China. in homeless and changing fake idol, we held each other firm against misleading exerted by those dark power. sometimes I want blamed my son according his performance but I later gave up, for they were forged and fake. some witch attempted to trade or threat, and attacked after our refusal. its a frightening dream. my neck turns more stiff and painful after nap. last night I ate too much, esp snack from street vendor near dorm gate and got sore water in throat midnight after woke up abrupt. I so gave up breakfast in canteen, and just napped. there were so many hatred in area of QRRS that I really felt. for example, the day before yesterday, a pile of dog shit or feces laid exactly front entrance of the dorm gate which using fence to narrow route. I after dinner and routine dusk jog started and in a blink stepped onto it through the limited gate. the night a middle size rain cleanse the dirty road. then in last dusk another small plastic bag in which likely bloods and dirts held laid there, pits the road block. a stubborn freak in his 60 or 70 constantly challenges me on my way jogging in dusk. twice the sin copied and according my changed route around the QRRS square just to facing me and deface my innocence. God grants my killing over the rubbish, the enemies of zhone Royal China. its a sunny noon now. I sunburn after lunch in the dorm minigarden, till nearby Senior middle school students came canteen for lunch. its very brilliant during recent clouds and rains. God dad, you guide me so far I didn't make any change around me. you tells me my security intact so far for future more widespread slaughter. yes dad God, I remember and trying remember the betray and profanation of my Royal China. grant me lighter heart for enjoying my daily bread and social times. bring me my Japanese Crown Queen, Asoh Yukiko, for better future of felling PRC, failing Chinese on mainland. guarantee our spiritual uprising on Christian way. thx dad God.

Sep 5, 2017

dreamt with a Russian scholar visited Bill Gates' futuristic house. Bill at first introduce his encyclopedia. then his wife treated us dinner. his daughter also appeared. while lingering I studied my subjects. yesterday I in my life first time received dental health care: teeth cleaning. it's a small local clinic, which charged me ￥80, dearer than most web q/a. but the girl likely a deputy doctor worked diligently and careful. the second half operative did by another woman likely a doctor and a bit harsher. uncomfortable in the procedure ignorable but time spent endures matters. I spent near 1 hour, even when I left I felt relived. its my 1st step adopting western lifestyle in grace and managed. last Sunday afternoon I arranged woz monthly cinema. I waited him from his music class half hour in Qiqihar supermarket. the nearby guard of the market even doubting my task while I using my mobile to read there but no communication in air. after my son gloriously appeared, I presented him ice drink, movie "Dunkirk", and hotpot before taxied home. its wonderfully planned and executed in a pack. but the night I slept so deep that next morning I felt clueless and unclear when I visited my son for shower in public spa. his computer locked him out after too many logon failure due to the problematic mouse. so I spent another half day to reinstall windows. his mom, the small bitch, tentatively brought him out and lingered somewhere lately after 7pm when I left the house after settle all issues fixed. I wanted to report to my son my achievement and confidential but unable. my son also forgot bringing his mobile in usual hurry with his domineer mom. returned to dorm, I doubt if I carried frustration and tasteless after my son under expectation so many times putting me in despicable. but I decided to care my son full heart. so I buzzed him online and introduce my finished work and blamed him for dispensable mobile, which blocked my access instant and let me felt inferior to his mom hijacking him with superficial educational purposed activities. PRC government like a cheap teacher monopolies education and all time pretending orthodox draining otherwise creative initiatives. God dad, break through the fake idol, free my Chinese society from lifeless stagnant. bring me my Royal China, and my Crown Queen Asoh Yukiko from Japan, for humanizing social flesh and architecture. grant me sustaining my adorable domains with meaningful future world mapping.

Sep 1, 2017

first dreamt a veteran politician intended to make me a mayor. I then follows a group municipal bureaucracy to a mine field in city hall. we each hunted for diamond, golds, etc. then dreamt I was an entrepreneur. our product is astronomical components. then dreamt a group tourists visiting my elder brother's house. they likely helped my brother for his celebration of event with their colorful performance show. after they all left marching I left to blog in dream but delayed and unable settle. my youngest elder sister and my 3nd nephew accompanied me at home. when the guests came back, we and friends of my elder brother grouped into 2 delegations to compete with dart or shooting. my son attracted many audiences with his adorable when the party went hot. its a sunny morning while I napped most of mornings in the week. last night is strange: I recklessly tried to protect the dorm canteen after noticed likely mafia threatened and extracted custody fee. recently in at least 3 occasions I saw hooligans lingering in dorm canteen, superficially peacefully occupied seats with fewer orders but just wasted time unusually late. that's threat of troubles. last dusk I brought the canteen another water melon from street vendor and let canteen workers prepared some for me to eat. there were only another guy in the dorm there for dinner, and a 3 middle aged men group there detaining with few orders. I felt glad with my melon and soon left. in my room I reviewed the scenario and perceived the canteen operating family's under bully. so I re-visit there and saw only their kid and their father left accompanied the lingering pests. I loudly talked with the old father and angers left me left abrupt. in half hour I visited the canteen 3rd time. the 3 hooligans left in dark dusk with heavy bags each. I urged the father if they had problem they should contact QRRS authority but he shown skepticism. in the night I review my situation with rotten PRC society under shadow of world largest mafia, CCP, dogs tyranny. God, sooner or later your faith holder will be attested against sins and swan song of warlord, world communism esp inflated PRC. instil us with strength of faithful. shift us from dangers of brutal accusation. bring me sooner my Royal China, and Asoh Yukiko, my Crown Queen from Japan, to enhance my life span. bring me stable investment reward for constant growth in business. thx dad, for the peace and hope.

Aug 25, 2017

napped since morning and dropped lunch. dreamt in earlier era with my elder brother vivid and his pals trading & discussing startup a company. I with my son interested in accounting and attempted to work for them in its early phrase and brought some innovative ideas. then dreamt in marching army. when the army at rest during raining, we tried to cross some units seeking for shower. in a jammed barrack girl and boy Scouts trade their items. I offered a sd card to trade, likely with my son's companion, at least 5 or more items from different traders gathered in front for exchange, including cards and other gadgets. most of the pals so friendly that we glad there for a drifting living. I woke up at noon when sunny outside. last night my son told me his Junior school life started with army training camp as prewarm. that explained why the night before yesterday he slept before 8 pm when I buzzed in. on his face some appear some hard thorns, as on his arm, that aroused my notice during our video chat online. he might frustrated. I also soon to search web for what it is. God, dad, we trust your mercy. then I regretted my unease would cause my son's overreaction with burden. I watched some embarrassing human bodies videos on youtube, and fragile of healthy body taught me lessons. I long time afraid of virus and that worsened when I napped. I unease with my pillow, one of them cheap quality and some dirty spots appeared even disgusting blackened. I felt my neck itching but I know mostly it's fake response. dad God, in siege of zhone's enemies, we naturally alert upon poisons, insanities and profanations. God, last dusk I saw separating us from common wealth of Zhong society attempts, threaten me of baseless includes my current comparable stable life with economic income. God dad, my ancestor left me resourceful and basic supportive standard allowing my innovative upgrade to breakthrough stagnant smothers Chinese society in hundred decades in failing sanity. that's my mission in this era. grant us freedom of starvation, brutal labor, motionless, and shoulder me on resilient of Zhong in relations. dad God, promise me the value of my workload.

[roxiesdiary-blog]

Dawn of Change

Hi, everyone! Welcome to the first posting of my diary entry! This first entry is a little slow, but it does give important background details that set the stage for what’s next so please bear with me!

If you want to read the rest of it, you can find it on Fanfiction.Net as well as AO3 (though please read on FF.Net so I am notified of comments, follows and favorites. Thanks!)

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6555616

FF.Net: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11262127/1/Fairy-Tail-Dawn-of-Change

Okay, then! Let’s get this show on the road!!

Chapter One

Roxanne Simmons’ nine-year-old heart was pounding, and her breathing was quick and heavy as she raced to catch the bus before it left. She couldn’t believe how stupid she had been, hitting the snooze on her phone and going back to sleep instead of getting up when the alarm went off. As a result, she and her friends would miss the first bus on Day Two of LA’s Anime Expo. Which was why she was the one running to catch it. She felt bad that she’d made everyone else late, so she was doing what she could to make it up to them by catching the bus and thus not altering their schedule for the rest of the day.

The bus started moving away just as her feet hit the concrete, and panic and determination both hit Roxanne at the same time. Urging more speed out of her legs, she quickly moved up the length of the bus to run beside the door. Looking in, she could see the driver glance at her but to her dismay, he made no move to stop the vehicle. The bus continued on its way, leaving Roxanne behind as she dropped to a disheartened walk. She dejectedly watched it turn a corner before she walked back to her friends to wait for the next bus. There, Melody stood with her arms crossed and an angry look on her face, while Nicole waited more passively. Beside her friends, Roxanne’s seventeen-year-old brother Jacob stood patiently. Roxanne winced at the thought of how disappointed he must be. Not because they’d missed the bus, but because of why they’d missed it—Roxanne hadn’t gotten up on time, making the rest of them wait for her.

As she neared the group, she looked up at her brother. “I tried,” she whimpered, nearing tears. She loved her brother dearly, so she hated it when he was upset at her. As a result, she did her best to be a good girl. But she was still a child, so she was prone to mistakes.

“I know, Roxie. It’s good that you tried.” Jacob knelt down in front of his sister and patted her head with a reassuring smile. “It would have been nice if you hadn’t gone back to sleep, but you tried to fix what you could.”

Roxanne sighed in relief and threw her arms around Jacob’s neck, smiling happily as he hugged her back. He wasn’t mad after all!

“Well, I don’t think trying is good enough!” Melody snapped, shattering the moment with her anger. Roxanne looked at her friend in shock and quickly decided she didn’t like today’s cosplay anymore. When Melody cosplayed, she took great joy in transforming her personality as well as her looks to match the character. Today, she was cosplaying Mawari Zenigata from ‘My Bride Is A Mermaid’, a character whose desire to follow in her policeman father’s footsteps induced what was termed 'Mawari Mode’, a state where Mawari insisted on reprimanding another person for inappropriate conduct and threatening to 'teach them the rules of society’. Since Melody was the one who’d insisted on most of the panels they planned to visit today, and had even brought extra micro-SD cards for her camera, it wasn’t surprising that her emotional investment in the events had triggered 'Mawari Mode’ for her character.

“The fact is that you’re the one who decided to sleep in,” she scolded harshly. “You’re the one who made us late. Don’t you know that it’s rude to keep people waiting for you?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Don’t you learn anything at those fancy after-school classes you go to?” Melody ranted harshly, pointing at Roxanne accusingly.

“I’m sorry, okay?!” Roxanne protested, still shocked. It wasn’t like Melody to act like this. This was actually the first time she’d been this, this mean.

“Sorry isn’t good enough!” Melody said stubbornly, still angry. “You always complain about how you have to be more than you are, be 'a picture of decorum’, whatever 'decorum’ is. Well, start showing us the person your parents want you to be! Start obeying the rules!”

Roxanne’s eyes started to tear up once more. She hated the extra classes her mother dragged her to, and the way she was expected to act like a grown-up. She hated being held to a higher standard, and relished opportunities to be 'just a kid’, like this trip to the Expo was supposed to be. She hated the way her parents’ wealth set her apart—some would say 'above'—the other kids at school. One of the few things she didn’t hate was having her brother. Jacob had even higher standards pushed on him, but he was always kind and gentle, and always knew what to say. Roxanne loved him for it, and admired him with all her heart.

Melody knew all of this, as Roxanne often vented her frustration to her friends, and it was often Melody who lent the sympathetic ear. So it hurt immensely for Melody, her best friend, to throw it all back at her. “Stop it, Melody.” Nicole intervened, stepping between angry Melody and crying Roxanne. “You’re being mean, and even Mawari isn’t that mean! Roxanne said she’s sorry, and you made her cry.”

“I’m trying to help her! How else is she supposed to learn to be perfect if she doesn’t get in trouble for messing up?”

“By trial and error, the same way you learn anything?” Nicole suggested tartly.

A soft touch on her hand reminded Roxanne that Jacob was there, and she buried herself in his arms as she fought to get her tears under control. She wasn’t usually this emotional, but the hurt of letting her friends down that way, followed by Melody’s verbal slap in the face, had pushed her past the tipping point.

“For someone who claims to be Roxie’s friend,” Jacob said, controlled calm overlaying thinly veiled anger, to Melody, “You have an awful way of showing it. Maybe you’re the one who needs to learn more about rules and manners, if the best way you know how to help your friends is to make them cry.”

By the time the next bus arrived Melody had been duly scolded by Nicole and Jacob, and Roxanne’s tears had subsided, though she still had yet to willingly leave her brother’s arms. But when she saw the bus stop in front of them, she forced herself to separate from her brother, forcing herself to smile and pretend her feelings weren’t hurt anymore.

She let her friends board the bus first. Melody rushed onto the bus, heading for the open back row. Because they were the only ones, the time being way too early for most Expo attendants, the bus driver closed the door after Jacob got on, but the driver didn’t wait for them to sit down before he set the bus into motion. Being suddenly on the move, Roxanne was thrown forward and a sharp pain ran up her leg to her hip as her thigh connected harshly with the armrest of one of the alley seats. With a cry of pain, she clamped a hand onto the already-bruising injury. She picked that very same seat to sit down on, barely registering Jacob castigating the bus driver for causing his sister harm. Trying to hold back yet more tears, Roxanne waited for the bus to stop at a light before she got up again and bolted to the back to sit with her friends. Eventually, Jacob finished reprimanding the bus driver and moved back to sit with them as well. Roxanne hooked her arm through his, hugging Melody too as her friend dropped out of character for a moment to apologize.

After the bus incident, and the slight hiccup in plans for the day, Roxanne and her friends enjoyed a rather snafu-less day. They still made it to the morning panel with time and seats to spare, and Melody’s lingering irritation evaporated now that the rest of the day had not been upset. As required by the Expo, Jacob stayed with the girls all day, but he still made sure that each girl had her cell phone in case they got separated in the crowd. He also made sure to buy them drinks and lunch to keep them going until it was time to head to back to the hotel.

The group stayed at Expo until ten o'clock, each very thankful that they didn’t use makeup to complete their cosplays. They didn’t need that extra six hours of putting on the makeup, time that they devoted to sleep and breakfast instead. They were also thankful that they didn’t have panels quite as early tomorrow, so they could sleep in until ten am.

By the time they got back to the room, prepped tomorrow’s cosplays and had showered, it was midnight. Nicole, Melody and Jacob readily fell asleep but Roxanne, still caught up in her current obsession, stayed awake for another two and a half hours quietly watching Fairy Tail.

The morning sunlight shone through Roxanne’s closed eyelids, waking her from sleep. She groaned as she sat up to stretch, wincing as her bruised thigh objected to being moved. She yawned and slowly opened her eyes. Seeing a bright, flowered meadow in front of her, she rubbed her eyes in confusion. “Am I still dreaming?” she mumbled sleepily to herself, looking around again. The grass and flowers had a strange, flat cleanliness, as though the whole world were animated rather than real. “It has to be a dream,” she decided. It was too strange, too unreal to be real. She closed her eyes and shook her head rapidly, praying that she would wake up. All she succeeded in doing was rattling her brain around and making herself dizzy. When she opened her eyes, the meadow remained where it was. “Its not a dream.” She whimpered. “Where am I? How-how did I get here?!” She demanded of the world as she scrambled to her feet, desperately looking around for her friends, the hotel, something familiar. Her heart started pounding and she could feel the panic rising. “Melody?! Nicole?! Jacob?!”

As her breathing got harsher, Roxanne realized that she was starting to hyperventilate, and she forced herself to take several long, deep breaths, fists clenched tight as she fought to get the fear under control. She’d watched too many anime where people got hurt because they panicked to let herself fall victim the same way. If this was anything like No Game No Life, or Digimon, then figuring out what she had with her was more important than where, exactly, she was at the moment.

“I’m okay,” she told herself firmly. “I’m not hurt, and nothing is trying to hurt me here. Wherever 'here’ is.”

She looked down, and was only a little surprised to find that she wasn’t in her pajamas anymore. Instead, she was wearing a blue tank-top, brown shorts that matched her hair and eyes, blue and white sneakers, and a leather brown vest. None of the pockets held anything useful or valuable like her cell phone or a water bottle, and Roxanne had to force back irrational tears at the realization that she really had no way of contacting anyone. “I’m scared,” she whispered, hugging herself tightly. “I want to go home. I want Jacob.”

After a few minutes of refusing to cry, Roxanne wiped her stinging eyes and lifted her chin. If she didn’t have anything, she’d have to find something. If she could find a river, that should lead to a road, which should lead to a city, right? Living in Los Angeles meant she knew how important water was to cities, even if she was still a kid. “There has to be a town somewhere,” she told herself firmly. “There has to be.” With no way of knowing where, though, she had to pick a direction.

Closing her eyes once again, she spun for a few moments and then stopped, letting the dizziness subside. Once the world stopped spinning, she opened her eyes and started walking.

Roxanne didn’t know for how long she walked, knowing only that she hadn’t come across a single sign of civilization. There were no people, no buildings. Birds flew overhead and smaller ground animals scattered as she neared them, which meant that there weren’t any people hidden in the trees. If there were people around, she wouldn’t see any animals at all.

All she knew was the day quickly went from comfortable West Coast weather to seemingly Sahara Desert weather in a very short amount of time, and there was no water or shade around to help her cope with the stifling heat. Her muscles all hurt from the walking, her stomach growled from being empty, and her eyes hurt from the bright sunlight, and she wasn’t even sweating anymore, but she didn’t let herself feel any of that. She remained focused on the horizon and putting one foot in front of the other. She had to get somewhere eventually. She had to-

For one moment she paused, trying to see how far she’d come, and the lapse in concentration cost her. Suddenly she realized just how long she’d been walking, not just today, but the previous two days at the Expo. Her muscles shook with exhaustion, her throat burned dryly, her stomach rumbled, and her eyes stung. Her head pounded and she collapsed, the weight of everything too much to bear any longer.

Not long after she fell unconscious, Roxanne’s small form was discovered by a duo travelling the countryside. Concerned, the blonde-haired woman dropped to her knees beside Roxanne and did her best to get the unconscious girl some water. She also argued, needlessly, that taking the child with them was the best decision, at least until the girl woke up and could decide for herself. They could seek food, shelter, and medical aid until the girl woke up.

Without a word, the pink-haired male partner - who had silently agreed with everything the blonde wanted to do, he just didn’t want to show it - gently scooped Roxanne up in his arms as the blonde girl continued to fuss over her, and the group moved quickly off towards the closest town they knew.