#it should be on the parents to try and filter out anything harmful

[darlinglotys]

PIdw Au/fanfic idea

ok so my idea is a Shen Jiu x reader and a child wei wuxian. Its very random i know but imagine the angst potention. I only have a rough idea regarding the plot but here are the main points i have in mind

-Shen jiu and reader have a good relationship but the reader is sickly so they are almost never seen outside and have to depend on Shen Jiu with couses him to get a little overprotective

-dispait readers illnes they manage to have a healthy son Wei Ying thet thet they bouth adore(Shen Jiu made an outh to raise him to be extremly respectfull tovards women）

-they have a good family life untill Lou binghe returned from the abyss and they are seperated from Shen Jiu and go in hiding becouse Lou binghe will use anyone and anything to torment his teacher

-reader and wei ying end up in Yiling where reader dies due to theyr illnes but ends up as a ghost thanks to the resentfull energy from Burier Mounds and reader continued to try and take care of Wei Ying

-meanwhail Shen Jiu is tortured to death by Lou binghe but he becomes a ghost as well but he no longer has a filter so he is very volcal about his emotions (mainly anger）

-when Wei Ying is around ten years old Shen jiu and reader meet again whail reader is exploring the forest neer Burian Mounds trying to figure out how to give Wei Ying a comforteble life insted of a curent one and after a reunion between the lovers Wei Ying finaly meets his father

-Shen Jiu now know as Qi rong disaids to teach Wei Ying how to cultivate alowing them to get closer

-when wei ying is fifteen he does to gusu and meets the main gang of mdzs becoming best friends with Nie huaisang and having a frendly rivery between him and Jiang cheng

-wei ying gets in trouble and his parents have to come to guse acidently cousing a scene mainly Shen Jiu who is angry at wei ying for geting kicked out after them trying to get him in so hard and making his 'mom' woried

-whail Wei Ying now Wei Wuxian was in gusu Shen Jiu becomes more known as Qi Rong as he is doing anything he can to get revenge on Lou Binghe becomes a wrath/sevege level ghost almost a suprime and gets added to ghost kings and the four ghost kings becomes a thing (the main diference between She Jiu Qi rong and og Qi rong is thet Shen Jiu is a lot more cunning/he is a streategist and refuses to harm women ghost or human）

-now mdzs plot continues not long after Wei Wuxian the Wen sect attacks yada yada. Now Wei Wuxian gets thrown into burial mounds Shen Jiu found out and goes after him. Now Wei Wuxian actualy died from the fall and ends up absorbing a lot of the resentfull energy and a instantly becomes a wrath level ghost and for the next three months he gets traind by Shen Jiu.

-they leave the burial mounds and Wei Wuxian goes to get his ravenge like in cannon he takes in the inosent Wens/ women and children

-now you may be asking what is the reader doing? managing theritory of course. So whail Shen jiu is gone thraining their son Reader is handeling the politics and making deals with the other ghost kings mainly He Xuan becouse they share a bourder as in my au the burial mounds a next to his theritory so they are forsed to interact from time to time

-now for th second question you may be heaving what about Lou Binghe he is traveling and geting his harem up and ranning and whail he pases by Qi Rongs theritory he hears the stories about the local ghost hing and his Queen at first he doesnt really care becouse why should he but then he hears more and more about them and realises thet the green ghost sounds suspishously like his beloved teacher. A Palace hiden by a bamboo forest thet apired seemingly out of nowhere. then he hears about how all of the slawers have been found skined and hanging upside down creating Qi Rongs iconic forest of heanging corpses and all the slaves have disapired

-Lou Binghe isn´t stupid he knows about his shizuns history so he starts investigating and looking for him so he can torment his old teacher once more. he is surching untill he gets to YIling and by now every one knows about the Yiling Patriach and thet he is sean the most around the city of Yiling and whail Lou binghe rests in one of the ins he lais his ayes on the Yiling Patriarch and indtantly relaise how similar he looks to Shen Jiu his hair, face and even ayes in short an almos a carbon copy of his old teacher the only diference his ayes are gray almost blue

-Wei Wuxian doen´t notise Lou Binghe is folowing him as he goes home Lou binghe only stops to hide when he notises Wei Wuxian calmly walk inside a dark Bamboo forest. Now whail Wei Wuxian doesnt notise Lou Binghe Qi rong does and begans planing almost instanly on how to get back on Lou BInghe/get him out of his theritory

Welp thets all but i still need to figure out how to end it and who to pair Wei Wuxian up with and if to ad beefleaf and more inportantly how to work it out but i will figure it out hopefully soon. anway this is the end of my word vomit. have a good day/night

[roo-bastmoon]

"I can't stand your kumbaya OT7 fake cheeriness. Be ffr."

First and foremost, I will always advocate that you police your own experience. PLEASE mute / block / unfollow me if my posts (and just my personality in general) are causing you distress. I never wish to be the source of problems in the world. So go with my blessing.

But second...

I hope you know there are some really good REASONS why I'm so "kumbaya" right now.

In my 44 years living on this space rock, I have:

--had a vicious abusive alcoholic parent who broke my nose when I was a kid

--been through my parents' nasty divorce that left us so poor we lived out of a car and ate one meal a day so our cats could have cat food

--developed disordered binge eating because I believed it was necessary during my semi-pro ballet days

--was sexually assaulted by a partner who professed to love me

--had not one but TWO diagnosed narcissistic bosses who made my beloved workplaces hell for years

--survived (so far) uterine cancer which took away my ability to ever be a bio-mom, something I'd always wanted for myself

I look at this laundry list of trauma (for which I am seeing a WONDERFUL therapist) and think to myself:

"Even so, I've lived such a cushy, privileged, safe and happy life. I've got four higher degrees; I've traveled the US and through Europe; I've worked on creative and charitable projects that I'm proud of; I've got a small band of wonderful real-life friends who stuck by me for the past 30+ years. It's been a good and meaningful life."

But I am TIRED of drama and I've had a lifetime supply of harsh words and meanspirited discourse. I'm just so fed up with it. I'm allergic to it now.

I'm not saying we should allow hate and harmful behavior to slide. But here on the internet, we have the power to block and remove anything we don't want to see or be a part of. I WISH we could do that in real life, where the stakes are so much higher.

So for my part, after being in all kinds of internet fandoms since 1999, I've come to the conclusion that I will not hang with mean girls, I will not feed trolls, I will not fight with antis, and I will TRY not to pop off on people who upset me (sometimes menopause gets the better of me, I admit it). Rather, I will just redirect my focus to what brings me joy, I will follow my bliss, I will take revenge by living happily.

And keep in mind... People are human. Fans and members alike are going to have bad takes, bad attitudes, bad days, bad habits. The question is: are they willfully causing harm? If yes, intervention is necessary. If no, then a little grace might be more useful.

I come from three generations of teachers and one of the most important things they've said to me is: Shame is not a teaching tool. It might temporarily change someone's behavior, but more often than not they double down in order to counteract embarrassment. If you want good results, thank a person for trying their best, acknowledge they are likely struggling, and invite them to be the better version of themselves you absolutely know they can be. Sometimes that works.

With ruiners, it doesn't. They just want to ruin things. Ruining things makes them feel powerful, because they cannot create; they can only destroy. It is their only talent. Ruiners invade a space and absolutely delight in ruining it for everyone else. It's a disease and I don't know the cure. The only way I know to counteract a ruiner is to stay in your space and LOUDLY be joyful, be cheerful, focus on what you love, and drown out their vitriol and hate with compassion and love.

So THAT is why I'm so "kumbaya cheerful OT7." Even on days when I would love nothing more than to thrash and whine, I'm trying my best to be a good little oyster and filter out the toxins, so this place remains focused on what matters: supporting BTS and enjoying ARMY.

If after knowing all that, I'm still not your cup of tea? I totally understand and I really don't mind if you need to mute me. This blog is just a hobby, just a place I come to escape the stress of work deadlines and house renovations and sick kitties and my own health issues and real life problems. Probably that's why you're here too. It's meant to be fun and enjoyable. I'm sorry if you don't like me, but... I'll never change all my colors for you.

So go follow your joy and find like-minded blogs. You have my blessing. And maybe we'll meet each other again on down the road, and we'll both be in better places, and we can walk together by then. Either way, you deserve to be happy.

Love, Roo

[manstrans]

I feel like “children should not have their privacy in the hands of Uber controlling parents that are basically stalking them and causing them harm” and “the internet is not safe for children and they should not have social media accounts until a certain age/parents should learn to allow their children agency while monitoring their safety online with a healthy communication model and/or monitoring their social media usage” are things that can and should coexist. But also abusive parents just shouldn’t have kids LMAO but you don’t need me to say that.

And there must also be a dialogue about how on the internet children who are not an appropriate age to be left unsupervised are consistently exposed to content (I was I was younger being a liveleak kid, and now there is/was Ankha Zone and Cupcakke memes on tiktok or the few instances of graphic gore and death footage being passed around) that they should not be seeing. I should not have been seeing 8 year olds talking graphically about sex the way I was on platforms like tiktok.

“But children deserve a place on the internet,” people may say — to which I agree, but you’re also talking about the same internet where shit like Ankha Zone was exposed to young children and I was exposed to actual IRL gore when I was 5-11.

“Children deserve a place on the internet” absolutely can, should and must co-exist with acknowledging how unsafe the internet is for them, because no matter how hard we advocate for filtering and tagging and stuff like that there will always be someone somewhere who will find their way around it.

We must also recognize that parental safety features, while they can and WILL be used by people that most certainly should NOT have kids, are also very important — what about parents who are not cruel overbearing assholes? What if they have an open communication model as I’ve mentioned before with mutual respect etc etc and they DO have a good relationship and therefore are capable of using these tools for the advantages of both parent and child? What if for a moment these tools could prevent someone from turning out like a liveleak kid or what have you if they were handled in the right hands by a parent who isn’t a helicoptery abusive shitstain?

Idk it’s hard to articulate but it is a very wide and nuanced argument and I feel like a lot of people miss out on the capability of using these types of things for good because they get so caught up in how it will be used for evil by people who should, again, not have kids. It’s also so hard to try and bring up how these tools can be useful and healthy for the child (again if the parent and child have a good relationship built on open communication trust and respect and the parent isn’t you know hovering constantly) without someone wanting to tunnel vision on something and call me an abuser for just… advocating for the safety of children online and how certain tools can be used for such when the internet is full of people (see: trolls) who will do anything to get around filtering?

Idk I do hope this made sense I did just wake up from an afternoon nap LMAO.

I get what you're getting at, but tbh it's also like... there's a huge difference between a 10 year old and a 13 year old using the internet. at the point where a child is going to be talking to people online, especially people they met through the internet, they should already be old enough to have this as a space away from their parents strict watch

sure, you can ask your kid before monitoring what they do online, but are they allowed to say no? and if they are, do they know they're allowed to? has there been a previous pattern of not letting them say no and set boundaries that could make them think that saying no will, at best, do nothing?

will monitoring them in this way even protect them? how are you supposed to know that someone is a predator just from their icon and username? does being able to pry just at that information make your child free like you don't trust them, so they must hide anything that could cause even less trust or more shame? not to mention teaching them that this kind of spying is okay as long as the person doing it has power over them

and even if you could answer all of those confidently that there's no inherent harm, there's still going to be bad people abusing it. it doesn't matter that some parents might use it responsibly, we know that many parents are going to use it to control and traumatize their kids. and abusive partners could use it to track their significant other as well, this is also basically a given

when I weigh any potential good against any certain bad, it just isn't worth it in my eyes

[naamahdarling]

I am not to my knowledge autistic, but I'm ADHD and a lot of me is in the middle of the Venn diagram. I remember sorting toys or objects into various orders and arrangements, classifying and reclassifying them, trying to find the best way to do things so that one item flowed logically into the next. I would do this for hours with just about anything, including a jar full of spare change. Buttons were AMAZING! I remember often taking an interesting object from one of my dad's glass-front bookshelves and handling it for long periods just enjoying the colors and textures and taking in everything about it, imagining scenarios about or within it (a carved ivory puzzle ball was a favorite, and a small carved landscape in a glass case), making up how it might be magical and what its properties might be. I would much prefer doing this than playing with others, and generally occupied myself on the playground by looking for lucky clovers or making flower chains or finding interesting bits of gravel or glass scattered about the ground because that was all that was available for me to play with that the other children wouldn't try to take or teachers wouldn't try to force me to use with other children.

This is a very neurodivergent kind of play. I very much share this with autistic folks. I can say, from within, iot is just as active and just as imaginative and just as appropriate as "normal" play. And it really pisses me off that these parents and "professionals" pathologize this mode of play as less advanced or whatever. Sorry not sorry but they could not even BEGIN to understand the nuances of bottle caps. They find bread clips boring!!!

Here's how this sort of thing always comes across to me, filtered through the lens of what I like.

"So the other kids can play house, a simple mimicry of the stuff they see everyday, or play dollies, reenacting things they have seen a hundred times. Yeah, they make up stories, but they insist on physically acting them out and vocalizing continually, and they often need help from peers to fully achieve an appropriate level of imagination. They can't keep it self-contained. That's really not very introspective, and it isn't developmentally normal to be so far behind their neurodivergent peers, many of whom are able to do these things without assistance. What can we really say about these neurotypical kids who haven't developed an intimate relationship with a plain wooden sphere or figured out how their little bowl of rocks relate to each other or discovered the optimal arrangement of their Lego bricks? If they can't spend even half an afternoon making domino art, how emotionally and imaginatively advanced are they, really? How involved with the world can they really be? Maybe we should punish them for not being able to sit still and stare at a glass fishing weight for two hours, or sort a bag of mixed beads without fidgeting and kicking their feet. Surely that would not harm them in any way, make them sick, give them trauma, or torture them."

See how fucking senseless that sounds?

I am not autistic but man do I have all y'all's backs, and all the kids' backs, on this because I fucking FELT IT. Every damn day. PLEASE just let me make a gradient from leaves and stop making me run around pointlessly after a ball with unpleasant topography.

[oat-malk]

i've been trying to articulate why exactly i'm not comfortable conversing with/following minors online, and i think it boils down to:

the kind of things you talk to your friends about doesn't really change with age. when you turn 18, you don't suddenly start talking about Adult Things any more than you would have as a kid. it's the same. your interests might change with age and your priorities in life might reshuffle as you get more responsibilities, but the conversations you have with your friends don't really look any different.

and when you're a young adult, and you're not used to being a Real Adult, you don't get the "wow what a youngster! look at that young baby!" response when you see teenagers going about their day. you don't feel much different at 21 than you do when you're 16. you have to consciously remind yourself that you're not just like them anymore, that at some point in the last few years, you gained Actual Societal Power over the people you're used to seeing as your equals.

it takes a conscious mental effort to remain aware of and careful with that power imbalance. when i was a teenager i could talk to other teenagers about my problems, my love life, school/studies - because we were equals. and suddenly we're not equals anymore and i have to pass everything i say through another filter.

friendship to me is about equality. you listen to each other, help each other out, provide support - as well as obviously hanging out and having fun and joking around. but i don't want emotional support from a teenager. i don't want to complain about my job and my family to a teenager. doing so has the potential to cause real harm; doing emotional labour for someone who you aren't on equal footing with can be traumatic (i know from personal experience). and let's be real, most of the jokes i make with my friends, i also would not want to make around a teenager. i'm just not capable of having a fulfilling friendship with a kid because being a Safe Adult To Be Around requires that i zip my mouth and not talk to them anything like how i talk to my friends.

i can't be friends with a kid, and i don't want to parent/mentor anyone, and i'm much more inclined to spend my social energy on talking to people my age than i am on figuring out how to appropriately reply to some teenager's DM. it's mentally draining at best, and at worst it has the capacity to do measurable damage or get someone in trouble.

additionally, i'm queer + trans + most commonly read as a man, which means that right-wingers already think i'm a groomer. i'm also awkward and autistic and i don't know how to gracefully tell people that i'm not comfortable talking to them without my boundaries coming across as optional. the only way i can effectively enforce my boundaries is to block/softblock/ghost the other person and move on.

i get that it's hurtful when you're a teen and it feels like no adults other than your teachers and family care to talk to you - it's like everyone thinks you're too immature for them. i felt the same frustration when i was a kid and i didn't understand why my age was such a huge issue to the adults i tried to speak to online. but it's really not about you and it's not personal; it's that adults can't relax around you because they have to be in Responsible Mode whenever a kid is nearby.

that's not to say that kids and adults shouldn't share spaces - that's kind of how being in public works, after all. if you're in a communal space, like a park or out on the street, we absolutely *should* be in Responsible Mode because children have as much right to be there as we do. but we also deserve a safe, comfortable, private place where we can unwind and be ourselves and control who we interact with.

i understand that social media isn't completely private, and minors can stumble upon anything i post online. but with features like blocking and muting, i do have some control over who is allowed in my online social circle, and i can flag/censor content so that kids will only see it if they first acknowledge i didn't put it there for them. the internet is not a public place in the same way that the local park is - i can't boot you across the lawn if you approach me in-person, but i can block you if you interact with something nsfw on my blog. i can make my profile an adults-only space and if a kid wanders in then i have the power to remove them to retain my comfort and privacy.

idk. this was a long post. i hope it makes sense. i remember feeling very sad and angry as a kid because it felt like adults never wanted me around and i didn't get why, and i took personal offense to it. i hope if any minor does read this, it helps them to understand. it can be a very stressful argument to have because it's so easily misinterpreted. and i haven't seen very many adults try to explain the reasons why in full detail.

[radarro1]

Chrome Parental Control: Safeguarding Online Exploration

Believe it or not, even five-year-old kids today have easy access to the internet via all sorts of devices, such as smartphones, tablets, laptops, etc., and they are well-familiar with how to use them. 

While many parents are proud, they should also be mindful of the fact that this can lead these little kids to access content that is not appropriate for their innocent eyes to see. 

Thus, it’s super essential to set up parental controls on Chrome to let these young digital users have a safe and neat browsing experience. 

How to Set Up Chrome Parental Control with Family Link?

Before anything, you must first link your kids’ account to Google Family Link, only then you can monitor your kids’ browsing activities. 

Here’s how you can do it: 

Create your child’s Google account. 

Now, install the Google Family Link app. You can download it from the App Store or Play Store. 

Next, add your kids’ account to Family Link. Here’s how:

Go to Settings >> Google >> All Services >> Parental Controls. 

That’s it!! 

Now, let’s move to the features and steps that need to be followed to set up Chrome Parental Control with Family Link:

Manage SafeSearch Settings

The SafeSearch setting blocks inappropriate content from appearing on the search results.

To enable it: 

Go to the Family Link app >> app’s Dashboard. 

Now, select Content Restrictions >> Google Search.

Next, activate the option SafeSearch. 

Now, select Personal Results to let your children see the personalized settings. 

Select Account Data Settings to let Google save your child’s activity on the search engine. 2. Filter Browsing Settings

The filter browsing feature filters out or hides content that is not suitable according to the setup age limit. 

Follow these steps:

Go to the Family Link app, and tap Settings >> Manage >> Filters on Google Chrome.

Now, set the pointer to “Try to block mature sites,” this will hide explicit and violent sites. 3. Change Site Permissions 

You can have stronger security setups using the feature of changing site permissions. 

Here’s what you have to do: 

Tap Settings card >> Manage.

Then, go to Google Chrome >> Chrome Dashboard. 

Next, disable the options Permissions for sites, apps, and extensions.

Note: The Family Link controller doesn't work for children above 13 and doesn’t even let you monitor non-Android and non-Chromebook devices.

Here, you are all done setting up flawless Chrome parental control to safeguard kids from online harm.  Sources: Radarro.com

[only-lonely-lovers]

08.05.2022

tags: intercrural, rough sex

notes: there's a bit of a silly prelude, then devolves into a more severe AmaTsuka scene. this is PART 1, the rest continues in PART 2.

Bird is あ / Avvy is つ

つ：my little background visual in my brain is. amane fucking tsukasa's thighs. i wasn't even trying to… imagine this. i was just incidentally mentioning it as a concept while trying to make my point earlier…. but since then its been like. oh… wait…. i… didn't think about this…. yet…..

あ：……… the. how serendipitous. this is literally where i've been at today What positions………

つ：falling asleep I'm like ah….. [envisions it]…… hmmnrnr tsukasa on his back w legs up…. playfully. escalating to sortof pushing knees to his chest and fucking downwards…..

あ：what the hell literally this is the same as my mental image… I doodled tsukasa in kimono only the other day and i was like mrahhg………..

つ：starting with the distance of legs up…. sortof kept at bay… held by, calf, or ankle, or something… maybe a hand lower to stabilize. but eventually wanting to rut harder… and if its against his chest, cock can also contact like, stomach area… as well it would then mean he will come right against his kimono front…. which is such a visual. only when tsukasa unfolds like a chair will it be like…. ah came all over, his stomach+thighs. arugurghg

well. I'm glad I cursed us both. in my attempting to vent about things. I remembered thigh fuck exists.

あ：[my brain steaming like fish since remembering it as an option]

つ：its a good way to feel like…. someone is just being used.

あ：I still be thinking about this drawing

It's one of those. like. urghhhh. I'm thinking about ittttt

つ：temptressssssss you create a situation where nene and tsukasa could both be on back legs up thighs exposed to torment amane💢

あ：make a guy SO angry like ough. fuhrhgjkflds dh!! F!!!!!!!!!!

つ：tsukasa is like hey nene do this with me watch like this

あ：this will be fun. tehe ❤️

つ：amane: ohhhh i'm so mad. about you tsukasa… i'm going to fuck my girlfriend and NOT you so i wont be so mad i'll just-- i'll just come so much from her, PUSSY, thank you [spongebob voice] I don't need otherwise

あ：THESE ARE NOT THE SAME THING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but like the humor that amane cannot fathom in fucking nene soooo hard in situations like this like make her pussy bleed To her its just like jesus

つ：ah no. the. it like bleeds into her. its like she absorbs the tsukasa fuck spiritually she has to take both. i'm sorry girl. he really should space these things out. tsukasa simply eats the energy from the air like a filter feeder. absorbs the excess stink

あ：[grabs her throat as a result of this all] moouuu yamete kudasai. PLEASE JUST HAVE SEX WITH YOUR BROTHER AS WELL like the sex is good my love but doesnt it seem like …. you could just have sex with both of us

つ：as a result of this you've harmed nene enough she can't fuck you for days after. tore something

now what. we'll. just play. cards. [everyone just sitting around for 3 days playing cards]

あ：i think sometimes its like, nene has a bruised and sore throat and torn pussy and is limping [cards shuffling in the silence] again aoi is like: honey. get help

つ：like hanako-kun i can't go home like this multiple days in a row…. we have to take a break….! ok…. for real

あ：I can't risk my parents seeing this… UNDERSTAND!! the idea of tsukasa just kind of silent through this all like not even saying anything. but like :)

つ：cards is fun (: wouhhh i won!

あ：n_n

つ：nene can't sit right. hisses if her ass contacts the floor.

あ：stuck like this all day

i was just staring at this animation earlier. but delighting in nene being trapped with this

つ：a useful visual

____________________

あ：sometimes i think about hanako hunting down tsukasa in the middle of the night in the school like a serial killer

つ：kl;jfkdl;gfl

あ：idk how else to describe it

つ：i will find you cursor. and i will eat you

あ：but yeah i think of hanako sometimes having to like. hunt down tsukasa. this thing where, like, by tsukasa respecting your space and not. being around you 24/7. means you do have to like go find him. our joudais bumping into each other or something

つ：ah its so funny for tsukasa to have laid bait out days ago…..

あ：

and then when i do i look like this

つ：what i'm gonna do to you i don't want nene around to see.

あ：mm…. yeah. she shouldnt see or hear this one

つ：thats when you know its gonna be (?) good (?)

あ：there are some things even tsukasa doesnt know❤️ anything could happen

つ：he just starts something. you never know. I'm sure sometimes it fizzles off. there is a more subdued version of this all where hanako really just nurses his ego for days and cuddles nene excessively and is sad he hurt her. and then there's versions its like 💢 why'd you…. why

wincing to see nene wince…. frustrated with. himself. remembering his own being rough with her… maybe taking a day to apologize to her… just. sorry….. I don't want to treat you like that…………………………..I'll work on it…. she's very pitying of him.

but what he means by work on it is like. fine. I'll release the demon, away from her, … sometimes. … I can't let it build up to this… level…..

あ：I think sometimes it can genuinely feel… mmm triggery, trigger-lite, stomach twisting in having let feelings reach such a state. Truly at war with own sadist brain, I think it feels so good in the moment that it's difficult to observe the aftermath, again that feeling of 'what's wrong with me…' my delicate, alive, human girlfriend, why am I not more careful with her and mindful of her whole life. She's not like us crazy supernaturals rghhh… like I could for real damage her spine or something if I was careless. stupid. [bonk]

Some days, feeling like, "it's happening again." i'm watching everything line-up for it to happen again. Oh but in that case I think it's even more like… [wants to shake tsukasa like a ragdoll] hey. fucking…. watch it

つ：it is painful to reflect on enjoying and indulging self…. you look back on it and. you ARE. being selfish. Nene is foolish and patient…. too much so. you can't let her get away with putting herself in this position all the time…..

I think she DOES enjoy getting to 'access' that intensity, feeling like it's not 'exclusive'….. but she's also simply a human girl. its relieving it isn't only 'for tsukasa'…. b. but. my bones

あ：the price to pay is her bone health

つ：i always think of amane as refusing to do anything solo with tsukasa…. for a long time. like it's dangerous…. unwilling to be, alone with tsukasa, basically. it feels taboo as it is, in canon. its why i'm so curious about the liminal space of tsukasa poofing nene away and being there for even just a minute….

it feels like. he can't stick around. you know. as it is…. even in the threeway, I imagine the 'norm' is that tsukasa can show up during school hours, while nene is there, play around, and disappear when she does, leaving hanako alone. we aren't roommates. i go to my room❤️

seeking him out like a serial killer feels like hmmmmmmmmmm…..? a new event…. [feels like a kid in trouble…. 💔]

あ：Exactly, yeah, as I see it, Tsukasa is like <3 I will be in my roost… In most circumstance, i even imagine the very inception of it all has to be that Nene herself pursued drawing out Tsukasa and was the catalyst for more -- on his own, he's very good boy, stays in hiding in the broadcast room. Shh…..

In a way I think it would be a hack for Nene specifically to want to see Tsukasa, who himself would see no reason to deny her that. She's like his tether to this situation, Nene wants me here and Amane allows me here. hehueue

I do think it's like highly forbidden to be alone together, especially after school hours, even. like, platonically. which is why I really enjoy the vibes, whether it's them on the roof talking quietly or something like. Hanako menacingly drifting down the halls

It's… a Hanako submitting that he is about to do something crazy and he is walking towards something bad. Losing my mind doing something bad to myself etc

つ：a scant platonic moment on a roof, or something, extremely rare events… tsukasa would possibly observe amane wandering the halls at a distance. heke….? ooohh what's he looking fooooor….? [for a while a looney tunes bit]

[amane rummaging floating about looking around corners and tsukasa a few paces behind him around other corners like o.o] wow, he's really adament…! must be important

あ：He has this serious air about him…..

つ：I can't sit anywhere, he'll totally run into me and get mad. if i were stationary he would have run into me naturally… is he not realizing that?

あ：Supernatural loose in the school…?

つ：IS there something… i should look for something too ig maybe a thing…. a bugge

あ：[gets horny thinking about amane pausing and just saying, aloud: tsukasa.]

つ：yyheeaaaahhh i also. thought of th. the moment he even under his breath…. is like… uugh… sigh… tsukasa…… its like ‼️

あ：bring him to me.

つ：IT WAS ME????????????⁉️ why does he want to find me? naruhodo…. except not at all!

あ：the tsukasa with 0 memories

つ：well that explains why this is a never-ending goosechase. is it really for me, though…..❔ whai…. hmm… i guess i should let him find me…. maybe….. ……………………………………………………………… maybe i should wait to hear him say it again👉👈 just one more time…!

あ：this is what it feels like to be like . ugh. beckons my brother to rape him

つ：ah. he

gets gooooosebumps hearing Amane call his name a little louder… ah but it clearly comes out of him like pulling teeth… amane thinking, you better… show up…. before i lose all interest. ugh. i'm second-guessing, you know….

あ：Longer, more drawn out sigh. hands hooked behind back, working wrist

Like… come on. It can't be that I sank this low AND I'm going to get rejected. Get cold feet. I won't look at you for a month straight if you do this to me. I'll create a salt circle around the bathroom.

[thinking all of this…. tightens jaw.] [growls.] Tsuu. Kasa. [muttering] last chance.

つ：ah poor Tsukasa… would-- feel like-- he can't-- actually jump out at amane, or something, that would ruin this, he'll get mad.. reduced a bit to 4 year old brain. a little panicked like ahouuh wait how do i do it [executive dysfunction] h-how do i let him find me but not surprise him… UHM…-- I KNOW--- [PRETENDS TO FALL OVER IN THE DISTANCE AND CLATTERS DESKS ALL AROUND]

its so like if i run and tackle him he wont like that, and, he may stop looking soon, but i cant go and put myself into his line of sight,,, i need him to find me organically,, i need to pretend ive been, busy, ouuauahhh

funny to put amane in a situation anyway to have to like RUN TOWARDS jump out of bed.

あ：Yes fhdhgh… the funny thing is, for all of Tsukasa's overthinking, i don't think. Amane is thinking about it at all, it's like, [sees the flourish of hakama] [blood in the water style] [i fucking come at you]

(~link to PART 2 down here for convenience~)

[seph305]

sorry for the random tag but this is really important, please boost this

@dollythesheepp @camomile-t @kaylahburke @your-local-hurt-comfort-junkie-1

THIS SECTION IS FOR THE PEOPLE WHO CAN SEND AN EMAIL (WHICH YOU CAN DO FROM OUT OF USA OR EVEN IF YOUR A MINOR)

"Why is KOSA a bad bill?

KOSA uses two methods to “protect” kids, and both of them are awful.

First, KOSA would pressure platforms to install filters that would wipe the net of anything deemed “inappropriate” for minors. This = instructing platforms to censor, plain and simple. Places that already use content filters have restricted important information about suicide prevention and LGBTQ+ support groups, and KOSA would spread this kind of censorship to every corner of the internet. It’s no surprise that anti-rights zealots are excited about KOSA: it would let them shut down websites that cover topics like race, gender, and sexuality.

Second, KOSA would ramp up the online surveillance of all internet users by expanding the use of age verification and parental monitoring tools. Not only are these tools needlessly invasive, they’re a massive safety risk for young people who could be trying to escape domestic violence and abuse. 

90+ rights groups agree that KOSA is dangerous and updates to the 2023 version won’t and can’t address the big problems with the bill. If you believe in a free and open internet, send a message to your lawmakers right now and tell them to reject KOSA!" (SOURCE: stopkosa.com)

FOR EVERY PERSON WHO SIGNS UP ON THIS SITE, IT WILL SEND A PREWRITTEN LETTER (THAT YOU CAN MAKE EDITS ON) TO YOUR LAWMAKERS TELLING THEM TO STOP KOSA

YOU DO NOT NEED TO BE AMERICAN TO SIGN THIS.

THERE IS A SECTION WHERE YOU CAN SPECIFY WHAT COUNTRY YOUR FROM

PLEASE REBLOG THIS

UNDER THE SIGN UP IS WHERE THE LETTER IS, YOU CAN MAKE EDITS TO THE LETTER IF YOU SO WISH

BELOW IS WHAT THE LETTER STATES, 

"I’m writing to urge you to reject the Kids Online Safety Act, a misguided bill that would put vulnerable young people at risk.

KOSA would fail to address the root issues related to kid’s safety online. Instead, it would endanger some of the most vulnerable people in our society while undermining human rights and children’s privacy. The bill would result in widespread internet censorship by pressuring platforms to use incredibly broad “content filters” and giving state Attorneys General the power to decide what content kids should and shouldn’t have access to online. This power could be abused in a number of ways and be politicized to censor information and resources.

KOSA would also likely lead to the greater surveillance of children online by requiring platforms to gather data to verify user identity. 

There is a way to protect kids and all people online from egregious data abuse and harmful content targeting: passing a strong Federal data privacy law that prevents tech companies from collecting so much sensitive data about all of us in the first place, and gives individuals the ability to sue companies that misuse their data.

KOSA, although well-meaning, must not move forward. Please protect privacy and stop the spread of censorship online by opposing KOSA."

Ok ik this isn’t smth I usually do but the internet is in danger and I need to take action

Recently KOSA has got its first pass and we need to stop it from becoming a law ppl r saying call or email your senators to oppose this bill and this is true but what if you’re asking what I don’t have one or what if I don’t live in USA or just can’t do anything since you are a minor well I am going to spread awareness of this petition so the people who are deciding this KOSA stuff can see this and possibly stop KOSA for good right now this petition only has around 10,000 signs and we need a lot more than that

“What is KOSA?”

KOSA aka online children safety act is a internet bill that claims that it will protect children from inappropriate stuff(18+ for ex) but actually It’s gonna end up banning all apps and sites that are “inappropriate” (tumblr for ex) and not only that it’s also gonna give your parents more access on what you are doing on the internet they are gonna view what sites you’ve been on and everything giving minors NO privacy on their phones for ex: you haven’t told your parents your part of the LGGTIA+ community welp this bill is gonna tell your parents that and you’re not ready yet

here is the petition

disclaimer: I did not started this petition I am just trying to spread awareness and attempt to save the internet

You could make a change, you could help stop KOSA and save the internet and save so many content creators from experience of this madness we won’t give up until KOSA is done for good remember anyone can take action to stop something that is wrong when either how to take a step is big or small

Here’s what I want you guys to do

1: sign the petition

2: reblog this post

3: tag your friends and get them to do the same thing

4: if you can, spread this petition (not this post) to other sites for ex: YouTube,Discord,TikTok, or whatever apps you use

5: do anything else that can spread this across the internet

repost this ik I said don’t repost my posts but this is an exception Idc just do whatever you can to spread this petition I am not losing everything over some dumb internet bill

-Tsutsujinothere

THIS IS NOT A JOKE KOSA WILL RUIN THE INTERNET!

[scoopsgf]

okay so you know those posts that are like basically saying stuff like ‘minors should know little to nothing about (instead thing here) and if they do then that means the internet has damaged them and they should reevaluate their time on here’ and like I get that it’s coming from a well-meaning place but those posts always make feel so bad about myself because I didn’t get to not know about more mature stuff. some of it was internet trauma when I was 10 and sneak onto the computer but some of it

(2/?) was from irl stuff and I didn’t get to control that. I learned about the more adult stuff because I was there and I shouldn’t have been freely ranging the internet when I was 10 but I was a literal child, and I didn’t know any better and now it just makes me feel terrible reading those posts because I get the internet is not a safe space and even if you carefully curate stuff things can still get through but that doesn’t mean I have to leave it altogether. like I’ve made sure now to only read

(3/?) and interact with stuff that I know about already without needing to look it up but because of trauma that’s more than probably the average teenager and most of my trauma wasn’t only from the internet and it’s not like I’m full out blogging about super mature stuff because I don’t like that stuff anyways but I still know about it and I feel invalidated by those posts that say I should t because I was never able to stop myself grom knowing about it and they all make me feel like it’s my fault

(4/?) like I understand those posts are well-intentioned and I don’t think that people should intentionally expose themself to stuff that’s too mature but I think they shouldn’t be shamed or have to feel called out for already knowing about that stuff and with everything else going on now I understand that a lot of people are panicking and especially most minors probably don’t know their limit with exposure to it but I have learned to know my limits better and not expose myself to too much and I’m sur

-

okay I think the asks got cut off, but I’ll answer what I can. First off I just wanna say that those posts are bullshit. like it’s true, they’re sometimes well-intentioned, but everyone is gonna have a different experience online and irl. i can completely understand why they would upset you the way that they have. though I understand the message, i hate the way they’re worded, you know? “minors shouldn’t know about x” “minors should have absolutely no idea what y is” etc. without knowing specifically what it is you’re referring to, I don’t want to provide specific examples of my own, but I don’t think we should ever let strangers on the internet dictate what we know and don’t know. it’s simply not their place to say. they have absolutely no right to judge you for what you do or do not know about.

if you want my real, honest opinion, I think those posts are pretty stupid. they’re mostly made by clout chasers looking for a bunch of people to agree with them and nod their heads like prim ladies at a damn bridge game. you know what you know. the internet is a vast place and it’s easy to accidentally stumble upon something you maybe shouldn’t, but it doesn’t make you wrong or bad for being exposed to something! it’s not ON you is what I’m trying to say. it’s not YOUR fault at all! none of this should ever make you feel guilty, and while I understand WHY you feel that way (because of the posts) I would respectfully like to crap all over the posts themselves because they are Just Dumb. you see what you see and experience what you experience and the only person in your life who gets to say whether or not those things will really affect you, is you. you are the one who should be able to decide how they make you feel, not a text post online. my best advice is really just to ignore them/label them as invalid in your own head. because that’s what they are. your opinion is valid, your reaction to what you see is valid, what you do with what you learn is valid. some dillhole looking for notes? is not.

[ensnapemysenses]

The Wolf, The Bat, and The Girl

Part 5: Crisis

Pairing: Severus Snape x Remus Lupin

Warnings: Kidnapping, Strong Language, Trauma

Summary: Severus and Remus, both fully aware of their growing feelings for each other, actively begin avoiding each other until Hazel convinces them they are being silly. The end of the year is approaching and exams are in full swing, but Hazel goes missing one day, not turning up for any of her exams. This sends Severus and Remus into a frenzy trying to find her. Their search soon leads them to an unexpected place, the Shrieking Shack.

Previous Parts

Masterlists

“Minerva, how many times do I have to say it? I am not in love with Remus! Imagine falling in love with him,” Snape scowls. 

“Severus, my dear. I hate to inform you of the very obvious but could you be more blind? Literally, no one else is in love with him but you!”

“I do not appreciate those foul lies coming out of your mouth!” Snape snarls. 

“Try as you might, you cannot deny it. You know the amortentia doesn’t lie.” Minerva places a hand on Severus’s shoulder and gives it a firm squeeze. “Even Hazel can recognize the truth between you two, why can’t you just come to terms with it and accept it? It would make things a whole lot easier!

“It doesn’t make any sense, Minerva! You know it doesn’t! He almost killed me in that godforsaken shack! He let his friends do and say despicable things to me and he didn’t say a word! We don’t make any sense together!” 

“Love has the ability to transcend all wrongs. You’ve both changed for the better, Severus. Perhaps before you didn’t click, but now it’s obvious there’s some sort of spark between the two of you! Don’t be a daft buffoon and miss out on your chance for love!”

“I’ve already experienced the love of my life and she’s dead now!” Severus collapses into the armchair beside Minerva, burying his head in his hands. “Why should I take the chance to lose someone else?” he whispers. He glances up at Minerva, his eyes watering and his lower lip trembling. 

“Because if you don’t, you might regret it your whole life. Hazel cherishes both of you and she deserves another parent figure in her life. Don’t take that from her.”

Severus gasps and clutches his chest. The point Minerva is making is something that hits him right in the heart. As always, she knows just what will strike him in the core. He would never do anything that would harm or upset Hazel in any way, he knows now what he must do. He has to tell Remus how he feels for Hazel’s sake. The only question is how is he going to put aside his pride and do such a thing?

“Fine, when the right moment comes I’ll tell him about how I feel,” Snape huffs. Both suddenly grow silent and turn towards the door of the headmaster's office as it slowly creaks open.

“Grandma!” Hazel peeks her head through the door. 

“Hazel, it’s nice to see you today!” Minerva smiles. “What brings you here?”

Hazel runs into the headmaster's office and wraps her arms around Minerva. “I wanted a biscuit,” she pleads with her puppy eyes. 

“Of course, honey. Here, have a seat and tell me all about your day. Severus, you can go now, and don’t forget what we talked about.”

~~~

“Hazel, how can I help you?” Remus asks, leaning over at his desk with his chin resting on his hands. 

“Can I speak to you alone, professor?” Hazel says, glancing around the room.

“Of course,” Remus smiles. The last few students filter out the door leaving the two of them alone. With a flick of his wand, Remus shuts the door behind them. “What’s on your mind?”

“It’s about my dad,” she mumbles, fiddling with the sleeve of her robes. “Do you –” she stops. “Nevermind,” she sighs, her face dropping. She turns around and hurriedly begins walking toward the classroom door.

Remus hops up from his desk and catches her before she’s able to leave, gently grabbing her hand. “Hay, you can talk to me about anything. You know that right?”

“Yeah, I know,” she nods. “Can you pinky promise not to tell my dad?”

Remus groans. “As long as it isn’t something that he doesn’t need to know, I don’t see why not. But, if it’s something he must know, I will have to inform him.”

“He doesn’t need to know,” she responds.

“Okay, I pinky promise I won’t tell him what you told me.” Remus holds up his pinky and interlocks it with Hazel’s.

Hazel grins and motions for Remus to bend down so she can whisper in his ear. “Do you like my dad?” she whispers.

Remus stiffens and he can feel his cheeks beginning to burn. “Of course, I like him, Hazel. He’s my coworker and we are very friendly toward one another.”

“No!” she giggles. “Do you like like him?” 

“Hazel,” Remus warns, pointing a finger at her. “That’s not very funny.”

“I’m not joking! I’m pretty sure my dad likes you, Professor Lupin! I may have accidentally overheard him talking to my grandma about it”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know how I feel about him,” Remus admits. “I think… I think I might have some feelings for him that go beyond friendship, but there is no chance he feels the same.” Remus rests a hand on her shoulder and narrows his eyes. “Tell your dad I said that and you will be in serious trouble, young lady!”

“I won’t tell him! I swear!” 

~~~

The two men tiptoe around each other for the next several weeks, subconsciously acknowledging their true feelings for each other, neither knowing what to do about it, and both fully aware that the scent of their amortentia belongs to the other. The relaxing nights spent together with Hazel become less and less until they are only hanging out a few times a month and only by demand of Hazel herself. They actively avoid each other during meals, sitting on opposite ends of the table as opposed to their usual seats side-by-side. It’s not difficult for them to maneuver around the castle avoiding each other since Severus is always in the dungeons and Remus is always on the second floor. The few times they do run into each other in the corridor they are friendly, spending a few moments to catch up before parting ways, both men racking their brains on how to come up with the perfect solution to confess their feelings to the other. They practice in the mirror, trying to find the words to describe how they feel, and end up frustrated, sometimes even on the verge of tears as they realize they cannot verbally express how much the other means to them. Even though they are apart more often than not, their feelings for each other continue to grow and their hearts ache for more.

With Hazel's prodding, they slowly begin seeing each other again near the end of the year, pushing their feelings aside in her best interest. They give up trying to figure out how to tell the other they want to be more than friends and decide to wait until the moment is right and the opportunity presents itself. However, things shortly turn south. 

“Severus! Hazel missed her final for my class! Is she okay?” Remus bellows, bursting into Severus’s office, panting heavily. 

“What? She was fine yesterday… I went to wish her luck this morning but she was already gone.” Severus’s eyes grow wide. “We need to find her right now. This is so unlike her, something isn’t right.”

Severus and Remus take one look at each other and with a nod of their heads both rush to Minerva’s office to inform her of the situation. Minerva quickly agrees that this is an emergency and alerts the other professors, who also confirm that Hazel missed all her exams of the day. With the evidence laid out in front of her, and knowing that Hazel would never do such a thing of her own accord, Minerva demands the students return to their dormitories for the day, putting exams on hold for the time being. She quickly organizes search parties and they begin to search the castle high and low for any sign of Hazel. Despite their best efforts, their search is unsuccessful, leaving both Severus and Remus frantic. The only thing the search found was one of Hazel’s gloves in the courtyard under a tree, Severus pockets the glove and turns to Remus, suddenly remembering what day it is. He pulls Remus aside while the other professors continue to talk about their search. With everything going on today, he had forgotten and he hopes that Remus hasn’t or it could be an even more dire situation than they had previously thought.

“Tonight is the full moon, Remus, have you taken your potion?” Severus whispers, his hand gripping Remus’s shoulder.

“Took it this morning. Don’t you have any faith in me?” Remus adds, trying to lighten the mood with a small smile.

"You cannot be too cautious. Hazel's disappearance had caused me to forget what day it was. You should retreat to your quarters soon so you can transform in peace." 

“I’ll be fine, Severus. Actually, now that you mention it, perhaps I could be of service in my wolf form.”

“How so?” Severus questions, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

“Well as we know my sense of smell is heightened when I transform. Maybe I could pick up Hazel’s scent and find out where she is.”

“No,” Severus refuses. “I will not allow her to see you in – that form!” His mouth becomes dry as he recalls a childhood prank where Remus, a werewolf, violent and hungry for blood because wolfsbane had not subdued him, had almost attacked and killed him. Shaking his head he backs away, holding his hands out in front of him.

“I – I only want to help. I’ve taken every single dose of my potion. Trust me this once, please! I will be in my right mind. I will be in control, not the wolf,” Remus pleads. “I just want to find Hazel. This could work, just let me try!”

“Swear to me that you won’t lay a finger on her, Remus! If you do, I will kill you.”

“I swear on my life. I would never - ever - harm Hazel. I love her as my own, Severus. I think you know that.” 

“I do,” Severus whispers, his eyes dropping to the ground. “Fine, we have a deal. Let’s go somewhere more private so you can transform.”

~~~

Remus shrieks as the pain spreads throughout his bones and he begins his transformation. His body convulses and he breathes in short sharp breaths, wincing each time he inhales and his chest expands. Severus stares in horror at the sight in front of him, wishing he wasn’t frozen in his place in fear but his trauma from the last time he saw Remus in his wolf form keeps him too scared to do anything to help Remus. His wand remains pointed at him, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead as the fur starts erupting from various points on Remus’s body. He grows ever more nauseous as the sound of breaking bones and flesh ripping emits throughout the room. With one last ear-splitting scream, the transformation is complete and a fully grown wolf stands only a few feet away from Severus. Its glowing green eyes stare at him and it cautiously pads forward, stopping to lie down by Severus’s feet, its tail wagging slightly. Hesitantly, Severus leans down and gives the wolf a pat on the head and it leans into his touch.

“I see that you did take all of your potion, Remus. That’s a good boy,” Severus mumbles and scratches the wolf behind its ear. He puts his wand away and pulls out Hazel’s glove. “Here, get a good sniff of this.”

The wolf sits up and sniffs the glove, inhaling deeply and giving Severus’s hand a small lick. 

“You mangy mutt! You got slobber all over me!” Severus chuckles, putting the glove away and wiping his hand on his cloak. “You got the scent, I assume?”

The wolf stands and scratches at the door of Severus’s office. Sighing, Severus opens it and the two begin to track Hazel’s scent through the castle. Before long, they are exiting the castle and heading towards the Whomping Willow. The tree begins to swing its branches about as they approach it.

With an upturned nose, furiously sniffing the air, the wolf runs and leaps at the trunk of the tree, effectively hitting the notch that incapacitates it momentarily. Severus shudders as the wolf sticks its head down into the hole that leads to a tunnel that will take them to the Shrieking Shack, the very place Severus has almost died in two times already, once by Remus Lupin himself, and the other by Voldemort. The wolf looks at him, somehow its green eyes conveying a message of sorrow and understanding. With its tail, it beckons for Severus to follow. Swallowing his fear, he approaches and grabs onto the scruff of the wolf's neck for support and allows it to lead him to the very place of his recurring nightmares.

Moonlight creeps in through the boards covering the windows of the shack, it’s just enough to allow Severus some view of the house, but he doesn’t worry. He knows Remus can see perfectly well in the dim light and he doesn’t want to alert anyone of their position by casting Lumos. The two creep along, avoiding boards that they know will creak with their weight added to them. Finally, they are able to hear mumbling coming from the bedroom. With Remus leading the way, they burst in and Severus casts a spell to bind the limbs of the man he sees pacing in front of the door. To his relief Hazel is sitting in the armchair, her mouth gagged and her limbs tied down, but she appears unharmed otherwise. 

“Hazel!” Severus exclaims, rushing over to her to free her from her bonds. “Are you okay, honey?”

Hazel collapses into his arms, sobbing. “Dad! I - I’m fine but I thought you’d never find me!” 

 “Daddy’s here, I got you,” Severus hums, rocking her back in forth in his arms. “Remus is here as well. He’s the one that found you.” Severus motions towards the wolf that is baring its teeth at the strange man who kidnapped Hazel. “Remus, calm down. We don’t need you scaring Hazel anymore right now.”

The wolf lets out a defeated whimper and stands down. It pads over to where Hazel and Severus are and lays down.

“Professor Lupin?” Hazel asks. “You found me, thank you so much!” She squirms out of Severus’s arms and hugs the wolf around the neck. It turns its head and gives her a gentle lick on her cheek which causes her to let out a little giggle. 

“Remus, take Hazel back to the castle and you two gather reinforcements. I’ll stay here and guard him.”

The wolf bows his head in Severus’s direction and leans down directing Hazel to climb onto its back. She grips handfuls of its fur and gives her dad a nod before the two take off back out of the shack and down the tunnel to Hogwarts. 

“Who do we have here?” Severus sneers his wand at the ready and shoved into the face of his daughter’s kidnapper as he forces him to stand and he removes the gag to allow him to speak. “Wesley Adams,” he tuts. “It’s a shame you’ve decided to follow in your father’s footsteps.”“My father is a great man!” he spits. “People think he defected and is a changed man. What a load of horse shit! He raised me in the ways of the death eaters, but they were too foolish to recognize the true mastermind and the greatest wizard of all time! You, Severus Snape. I am at your service.” The young man bows, his lips stretching into a smirk.

“You fool, you’ve put your faith in the wrong man. That isn’t me! I fought against everything Voldemort stood for!” 

“Oh, but I think that deep down, you agree with some of his logistics! Otherwise, why would you have willingly joined his league? You have always been an outstanding wizard, you’ve created many potions and spells! You can even fly unsupported! What’s stopping you from doing more? You fooled one of the greatest dark wizards of all time, you could be doing so much more than teaching at this school and letting your talents rot away! You deserve to be recognized as the great wizard you are!”

Severus ignores the young man’s words. He doesn’t care about himself and he never has, he has no desire for fame and glory. His only concern is keeping Hazel safe. “Why go after my daughter?” he snarls. “I ought to kill you myself for laying your disgusting hands on her!”

“What better way to make an impression than to go after the foul?” Wesley laughs. “I confunded some stupid Slytherin third years in Hogsmeade to make them bring her to me here! Then, I wiped their memories and sent them on their way. I assume they are okay, they are probably just missing a few days worth of memories.” “In all your research of me, it seems you missed one thing, Adams. I will do anything for the people I love.” Snape narrows his eyes as he begins to hear footsteps storming down the tunnel toward the shrieking shack. With a nonverbal and wandless spell, he gags and binds Wesley tighter than before. “It seems we are going to have company shortly, so before they arrive I have one last thing to say.” Severus leans down until he is right in Wesley’s face, baring his teeth as he suppresses the animalistic urge rising in his gut to kill Wesley. “Fuck you.”

[agerefandom]

Golden Slumbers

Fandom: Harry Potter

Characters: regressor!Harry Potter, regressor!reader, caregiver!Fred Weasley

Words: 1,200

Summary: You wake up early and decide to bother your big brother, Harry. (Simple fluff in an established family with two regressors!) 

Warnings: cglre terminology, parental nicknames, gender-neutral reader, food, baby talk. 

(Author’s Note: I accidentally wrote this entire fanfiction without referring to Fred by name, but if you’re wondering who ‘Daddy’ is, it’s Fred!!) 

It’s just before sunrise when you wake up, a dim blue light filtering through your curtains. When Daddy makes you go to bed early, you usually wake up before it gets light. Daddy won’t be awake for a few hours, since he stays up a lot later than you do.

Some mornings, you stay in bed and play silly games on your phone. Some mornings you’re all big and you make breakfast for Daddy and Harry! And other mornings, you go find your big brother to see if he wants to play.

You’re too restless to stay in bed, and you’re too little to make breakfast with the stove. Daddy always says you’re not allowed to wander around when you’re little, so it must be time to wake Harry up.

You scoot out of your bed, bare toes wiggling in the plush carpet that Daddy helped you pick out for your room. He was really nice when you and Harry moved in with him, and he let you both decorate rooms to stay in when you’re little. Your room has a bed with railings that can go up if you’re small enough that you might roll off the bed, and stuffed animals filling all the shelves.

Harry has lots of stuffies too, but he likes reading books. And his bed is even bigger than yours! Sometimes Daddy sleeps there if Harry’s having a bad night, and you can come and cuddle with them in the morning.

It’s a familiar hallway that you walk down, past Daddy’s room to the door marked with a wooden sign painted with Harry’s name. You have a matching sign with your name hanging on your door, splashed with the paint and glitter that the two of you used to decorate them. You remember Daddy had laughed and said he was happy he’d ordered such a big bathtub so you two could take a bath together and get all the paint off.

You push Harry’s door open quietly, tip-toeing inside. His curtains are thicker than yours, and it’s super dark in here. His clock projects the time onto the ceiling, along with swirling stars that move with the real constellations above.

The light from the hallway spills into the dark room from the open door behind you, faintly illuminating your brother. He’s asleep on his back, some of his hair caught in his mouth. His glasses are folded on the nightstand on top of the book Daddy read to him last night before bed.

It’s only three quick steps to the bed, and then you can flop down on top of Harry.

He wakes up with a shout, trying to push you off.

“Harry!!” you protest, deflecting his hands. “Wanna cuddle!”

“W’time s’it,” Harry asks groggily, trying to blink up at the projected time. It’s big enough that he can read it without his glasses, but his eyes are extra bad when he just woke up.

“Dunno, Harry, but I wanna cuddle!” You pull at the blanket, whining. Harry rolls away with a grumble, tossing the blankets over so you can climb under them.

It’s nice and warm in Harry’s bed, and for all his grumbling, he still wraps his arms around you as soon as you’re under the covers.

“Go back to sleep,” he tells you.

“No!!” You squirm in his grip. “Not sleepy cuddles! Wakey cuddles!”

“Shhhh.” Harry pulls you closer and tucks your head under his chin. You pout. Not fair, that’s what Daddy does when one of you is being too loud. Harry isn’t allowed to do that. Still, it’s pretty comfy tucked right up against his chest, his heartbeat under your ear. And the bed smells all cozy, like Harry and fabric softener and home.

Harry falls back asleep really fast, and he starts snoring a little bit, so you poke him in the side. He wakes up with a confused mumble, grabs your hand, and goes back to sleep.

Without your hand free, you kick your legs a little bit under the covers. Harry isn’t being very entertaining this morning. Maybe you should have tried to make breakfast after all.

Eventually, Harry’s soft breathing and the slow shift of constellations overhead lure you back into sleepiness. It’s much warmer in Harry’s arms than back in your own bed, and as the stars swirl above you, sleep closes over your head.

--

“What’s this? A cuddle party I wasn’t invited to?”

A familiar voice brings you back to consciousness, and you blink your eyes open with a yawn. Harry is shifting beside you, pulling one arm back from its place over your chest.

“Daddy?” you hear Harry ask.

“Good morning, kiddo.” Daddy sits down at the foot of the bed, patting your knee over the blankets. “Rise and shine, sleepy one!”

“G’morning, Daddy,” you reply, and then roll over on top of Harry. It’s too early.

“Come on, kids, it’s almost noon!” Daddy’s arms wrap around you, pulling you off your brother and into his lap, ignoring your whine of protest. It’s a lot colder outside the blankets, and you curl into Daddy’s chest.

“M’tired!”

“You were the one who tried to wake me up at six in the morning!” Harry says, accusatory.

“Wanted to play,” you pout.

“Well, you can play after breakfast,” Daddy says. “The pancakes are already on the table.”

“Pancakes?!” you and Harry say in unison, sitting up. You almost bang Daddy’s chin with your head as you shift upwards, and he avoids you with a laugh.

“Woah! Lucky I have a lot of practice dodging Bludgers, you’re a little battering ram this morning.”

“Sorry Daddy.” You fold your hands, properly chastised.

“That’s okay, kiddo. No harm done. Let’s get the two of you downstairs, yeah? Pyjama breakfast, that’s what I think.”

“Jammies breakfast!” You slip out of Daddy’s lap and bounce in place, excited. Harry is sitting up in bed, and you can see he’s wearing the Chudley Cannons shirt that Ron gave him a few years ago for Yule. You’re just wearing a onesie, with cute little cats all over it. Sometimes you like wearing onesies to sleep even if you’re not that little. And Daddy’s wearing his Cookie Monster pyjamas, which are the best. “Do the pancakes have choccy chips?”

“Mmm, some of them do! And there’s loads of whipped cream.”

“Yeah!!!” You want to be eating those pancakes right now immediately! Why is Harry taking so long getting out of bed?

You run over and grab Harry’s hand, pulling him up. “Come on, come on! Jammie pancakes!”

“I’m coming,” Harry laughs, reaching for his glasses as you continue to yank on his hand. “Wait, I gotta get these.”

“Harryyyyy!”

Daddy laughs at you, and ruffles your hair.

“That’s my little one. Wouldn’t know the word ‘patient’ if it jumped up and attacked your ear.” He pinches your ear out of nowhere, and you squeak, letting go of Harry to flap your hands at Daddy.

“Daddy! Stop!”

“Alright, I’m ready!” Harry grabs your hand and runs for the door. “Jammies breakfast time!”

“Pancakes!!!” you yell, as you follow your brother towards the stairs. Daddy makes the best breakfasts. Once the three of you are done at the table, there’s gonna be no leftovers if you have anything to say about it.  

[spunky-89]

When it Rains it Pours

A/N: I’m back again, who knows for how long, but what matters is that I made a thing and I get to share it with you all. 

WARNING I made a self fulfilling fic during a dark time so it might be triggering to those with depression and I do talk very briefly about self harm....so yeah

WC: 3k

--------------------------------------

Life was wearing you down. It felt like everything was going wrong. You were failing two classes, your car was totaled, your mom was sick, you weren’t sleeping, your parents were arguing all the time now, and that was just scratching the surface of your problems. Not to mention the fact that your mental health was plummeting. The only good thing you felt you had left was your boyfriend, Stiles. He was always so supportive and he was there whenever you needed him. But soon enough, you knew you would lose him too.

It was late in the evening, lacrosse practice had just ended and you were waiting by Stiles’ jeep. It was cold and dark and you were beyond tired. But as soon as you heard him approach you slapped your fake smile on and pretended everything was fine. And apparently, you were a good actress cause he never noticed. He went on and on about practice and coach and the latest supernatural crisis. It actually made you calmer, hearing him ramble. Somethings never change and you were glad for that. Like your tradition of always stopping to grab a bite to eat after Friday practices. You desperately wanted to go, but you weren’t sure how long you could hold this facade of being okay. So with a heavy heart, you asked him to just drop you at home, making the excuse your mom needed something from you. Like the wonderful boyfriend he was, he offered to help and you could just order in. But you declined, promising to call him first thing in the morning. As you opened your front door you could hear your parents arguing again, but you kept your smile up and turned to wave at Stiles. As soon as the door was closed you let out a deep breath, dropping the fake smile and trudging to your room. You threw your bag on your desk chair and headed straight for your bed. You just laid there thinking as you tried to muffle the sounds of your parents arguing with a pillow over your head. You woke up hours later, somewhere around 2 a.m., and realized you fell asleep in your clothes. You quickly changed into something comfier, climbing right back into bed. You decided to start working on your upcoming english essay, but you struggled to come up with any words. Or better yet, you had the ideas in your head, the problem was getting those thoughts on paper. You barely realized you’d been up all night, the only reason you did was you noticed the sunlight beginning to filter into your room. You sighed and put your books and laptop away and tried to grab a few hours more sleep. You didn’t really succeed, falling asleep around 8 and waking back up at 9:30. You sent a quick message to Stiles to let him know you were staying home to study and to call if anything life-threatening was occurring. He asked if you wanted company but you denied. Not thinking you’d be able to put on a fake smile today. So you went to the kitchen to grab some food before you locked yourself in your room, determined not to do anything but study and do homework. You got so absorbed in your work you didn’t notice your phone blowing up with texts and calls. You didn’t notice that lunch came and went without you eating anything. You didn’t notice your severe dehydration, nor your hunger. You were numb to everything. So much so you ended up falling asleep at your desk to the sounds of your parents’ screaming match.

You kept this pattern up for about 3 weeks. You slapped on your fake smile at school and pretended you were fine. If someone asked you just said you were anxious about school and grades. Everyone bought it. 

With each day you were becoming more tired and drained. A part of you told you to tell someone, to get help, but the other, louder, part said no. So you kept it all in. It was starting to show. Your grades were slipping more, you were gaunt (luckily makeup kept anyone from seeing that), and you only wore baggy clothes to hide the obvious weight loss from not eating. It almost hurt that no one noticed your terrible state, but you didn’t blame them. How could they if you acted like everything was fine? What they did notice, was you pulling away from the pack. You didn’t show up to pack meetings, and the ones you did come to you never stayed for chit-chat. And worst of all, you hadn’t been alone with Stiles in weeks. You knew he would figure you out, he always could. But you didn’t want him to. He was already dealing with enough, he didn’t need to be worrying about you too. The pack would try and corner you at school but you learned to be slippery, learned to evade the wolves, other supernatural creatures, and the humans. 

You could tell you were hurting Stiles, and that killed you, but you thought maybe distance would be good. He could focus on other things and not have to deal with you. Yes, you decided, he was better without you. They all were. So you made a plan. You would break up with Stiles by saying you didn’t like him anymore and you were sick of the pack. That way it was kind of breaking up with everyone. Then you would have your mom pull you out of school and you could take online classes instead, limiting your chance of seeing the pack.

It was a Wednesday, after school. It was pouring outside but you knew Coach would still make the team practice. This was your opportunity. You sat in your car in the driveway of your home and called Stiles. You prayed he wouldn’t answer, as that would make things harder. When you heard his voicemail pick up, you took a deep shaky breath.

“Hey Stiles, um look, I know it’s kinda shitty to do this over the phone but uh, I don’t think we should be together anymore. I just don’t feel the same way I did, and I know it was wrong of me to drag this out and make it worse by distancing myself first, but I thought it would help lessen the pain. I’m sorry, I wish you the best.” As soon as you hung up your sobs were echoing through the car, meshing well with the sounds of the downpour. You didn’t do what you’d wanted, which was to sound like you were just uninterested and over the pack. Instead, your voice was shaky from holding back tears. You hoped Stiles wouldn’t notice and it would be enough to cut ties with the whole pack.

It took you about half an hour before you were able to get out of your car and start to head inside. By the time you got to the door, you were soaked. Your hands shook as you tried to get the key into the lock, but between the anxiety and the freezing rain, you had no luck. Then you heard the familiar rumble of Roscoe and you tried twice as hard to open the door, but you couldn’t so you just cursed as tears started to mix with the rain, hindering your vision. You could hear his feet slapping against the pavement as he ran to you. You tried to take a deep breath and focus but it was impossible. 

He shouted your name but you ignored him, almost cheering when you got the door unlocked. You tried to enter and close the door before he got to it but you weren’t quite fast enough. As you were rushing to slam the door he put his hand out and shoved against it, keeping you from closing the door. 

“Stop fighting me and just talk to me!” He exclaimed.

“Just go away!”

“No, I’m not leaving until you tell me what the hell is going on,” he grunted as he shoved hard and managed to slide in before you managed to push back. 

He grabbed your arm to try and turn you to face him but you chose to walk past him out the door, just trying to get away from him, knowing you would just take back everything you said, just to feel his arms around you one last time.

“Where are you-” He started to call after you but ended up giving chase instead. 

So you started to run. You didn’t know where you were running, you just knew you couldn’t stop. Unfortunately, with the torrential downpour, you were having a hard time seeing and ended up tripping over a pothole and falling to the ground. Your body ached and your skin stung at the contact with the street, but you ignored it and tried to push on. Unfortunately, your fall gave Stiles enough time to catch up to you. He grabbed your arms and helped you up, never once letting go of you. 

“Let me go Stiles.”

“No. Not until you explain yourself.” He shouted over the rain.

“Just go home!” You cried out.

He just shook his head and stared at you, standing in the middle of the street, the rain still pouring.

“Why? Why follow me? Why bother?” You asked finally, having to shout to be heard over the rain.

“Because I will follow you anywhere! Even into the middle of the street during a massive storm.” He called back.

“Why?”

“Because I love you!” He yelled, his voice letting out hints of frustration. 

It was your turn to just stare at him, tears mixing with the rain as it flowed down your cheeks. You still felt numb, felt like none of this made sense, that he should be happy to be rid of a burden like yourself. You lost all sense of self and felt your legs give out from underneath you, though you were lucky enough to not hit the ground again as Stiles was there to catch you and swiftly lift you into his arms. 

Slowly he walked the two of you back to your house, but you barely noticed, too stuck in your head. You didn’t even notice how hard you were clinging to him. He carried you into your room and sat down on the end of your bed and just held you as you cried. You occasionally babbled something like an apology, but he would just shush you and continue to rock you gently. 

When the tears slowed slightly and you were able to make complete sentences, you decided to just come clean about everything and if he left you, you would understand.

“Listen Stiles, I-”

“Nope, stop right there. Before we talk about this, we need to get into some warm, dry clothes before one of us ends up sick.” He said with finality. As he said it you finally realized some of the numbness you felt was because you were cold and wet. You nodded as you went to fetch some dry towels and clothes for both you and Stiles. You had stolen enough of his clothes and he had left so much that half his wardrobe seemed to be at your house. The two of you dried off and changed in silence. You were shaking the whole time and once you had finished toweling off your hair, you suddenly were terrified to face him. So you kept your back to him and fiddled with the towel in your hands. The tears had stopped, but when you thought about the boy standing behind you, they started to well up again.

You felt his arms slip around you and take the towel gently from your hands, putting it on the dresser before he tightened his arms around you and just held you. When he laid a kiss on the side of your head the tears started to flow once more. When the first sob bubbled out, he turned you around and just stroked the back of your head in a soothing manner. 

“Why are you still here?” you managed to ask between sobs. He sighed and led you back towards your bed, pulling back the covers and slipping under them before opening his arms and inviting you in. You climbed into his arms like so many times before, but what used to feel like heaven only made your heart clench in fear, terrified you were going to lose the one good thing you had left in your life. 

“So what’s going on with you, what happened?” He asked gently, laying on his back as you curled into his side. 

“Does it matter?” you spoke quietly.

“It does to me.” He said grabbing your one hand and holding it tightly before laying a kiss on it. 

You sigh as you try desperately to find words that describe the awful feelings you were feeling. He waited patiently, playing with your fingers absentmindedly. 

“I guess I-I just give up. I feel so numb now because like I’ve given all I can and it’s never enough, so why bother trying right?” You spoke slowly. You felt him go rigid as he turned your hand over to look at your wrists then pulled you to sit up and took your face in his hands, his eyes darting around your face. 

“Please tell me that doesn’t mean what I think it does.” He spoke with fear in his voice.

“What do you…” you trailed off as you cocked your head a little bit, trying desperately to decipher his question/statement. 

“Please tell me you haven’t been- been hurting yourself.” He all but begged, his voice breaking as he did. 

Oh. Your brain paused for a moment, registering the look on his face as he watched every twitch on yours. The real fear and worry you saw on his face stopped you, you knew he cared but you didn’t think that it was enough to cause this reaction to his query.

You shook your head in response, still at a loss for words.

“Promise me you aren’t lying. Please, just be straight with me.” 

“I’m not lying,” You recoiled at his seeming distrust of your answer, pretty much saying he didn’t believe you. His hands dropped from your face as you tried to move away. But a hand pulling you back kept you from going too far.

“Hey, hey, hey, please don’t do this. I’m just trying to be sure because if you are then I-I-I don’t know what I’d do but I’m just worried and you’ve shut me out for weeks and now this- I just want to know what’s wrong so I can try to fix it.”

“You can’t fix it, Stiles, I’m broken and in pieces, I am not your jeep that you can just duct tape back together.” You spoke, a harshness peaking out, covering all the other emotions. You heard him sigh as he tried to get you to look at him but you refused. 

“Of course I know that. But I’m not going to just sit here and let you- let you suffer and deteriorate. I can’t do that.” He said. 

“Why? Why not? Why won’t you just let me rot away in my room, huh? Why don’t you just leave? Be thankful to be free of me.” You all but yelled.

“Why? Are you serious?” He said softly, “Do you really think that low of yourself that you forgot all that we’ve been through together, the moments we had, the love we shared.” His voice felt like knives as he added, “Or at least the love I thought we shared.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your heart breaking at the implications of his statement. You had gotten off the bed at this point and had backed towards the corner of your room, holding your arms tight across your stomach as you tried to curl in on yourself. They were right, the voices in your head were right. All you did was end up hurting him, now he hates you. Well, it’s not like you’re surprised, you weren’t worthy of his love, but hate, maybe you deserved that.

He groaned as he ran his hands down his face in frustration. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” 

“No, stop doing that! Stop trying to hold onto me! Let me go, I’m not worth this.” You said aggravatedly, tears once again pouring from your eyes. This was it you thought, this was the end. You wanted to sigh of relief but you were too devastated to do so.

“Who decided that huh? Who decided you weren’t worthy? Cause to me I’m the one not worthy of you.” He said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind and selfless, and so many other wonderful things. And I’m just a spazzy kid who brings nothing but trouble. Who has almost gotten you killed multiple times.”

You just shook your head feverishly as he advanced towards you. You tried to shrink back but you could only go so far and when he reached you he took your face in his hands and he kissed you. He kissed you like it was the last time he’d ever do so. And of course, you melted into it. He was the love of your life and nothing compared to the love you felt in that moment. His hands moved to wrap tightly around you, holding you impossibly closer. 

“Don’t push me away, let me help you.” He murmured against your lips. Your eyes stayed closed as you rested your forehead against his.

“I don’t know how,” you almost whimpered,

“We’ll figure this out, together.” He promised. You just nodded and let him hold you. And at that moment, you had hope again. 

[doubleshotofsomething]

To Hell & Back

Part Two: “Lucky for me, your kind of heaven’s been to hell & back”

Summary: You still hate Bucky. But you need him to keep you from going to jail... So, what’s the harm in inviting him over to dinner?

Prompt: “I don’t want to live on this planet anymore.”

Warnings: Angst?? (i think). Probably typos( which will be fixed). Implied violence. 

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

--

Part one [In case you missed it]

----

It's Saturday.

Your day off. Well, what used to be your day off until it was turned into a family therapy session.

Well... Not an actual therapy session. It is literally just dinner with your family, including your sister's husband - a man you refuse to identify as your brother in law for reasons that will end in you being called the j-word. The husband, because he's the only son-in-law your parents have, has been dubbed the "referee" of the Saturday Sessions.

Each session, since you've been discharged, has made committing murder seem more and more appealing.

So appealing, that you're standing in front of your neighbour's door with a basket of muffins and a please-keep-me-from-committing-felonies smile.

Bucky, because he just spent the afternoon searching for a new bar, is standing on the other side of the door. Both confused and frightened to see you at his door voluntarily.

"Is there a bomb in that basket?" He asks, eyes roaming over you suspiciously. "Believe me, it's not gonna work."

You blink at him, then at the basket. Then back at him. "Why would I put a bomb in a muffin basket and then hold it?"

He raises a sceptical eyebrow at you.

You huff. "Fine, they're poisoned. I accidentally added laxatives while making them-"

"Accidentally?"

"Yes, accidentally-" you glare at him. "-they're not for you. They're from us."

He blinks at you, confused. You haven't spoken to him, actually spoken to him, for a few months. You avoid him like he has a disease and when your paths do cross, you just glare at him like he threw your cat into on coming traffic.

It's been a few days since the coffee machine incident. He has a brand new one - better than the last one - sitting on his kitchen counter, waiting for him to develop the courage to give it to you. It should be easy. He has mastered the art of making amends.

But... He can't, for some reason, bring it to you.

"Wait-" he frowns, your words finally registering in his head, "-did you just say from us?"

You set the basket down. "So, remember when you broke my one shot at happiness?"

"Oh god." He forgot how dramatic you are, as well.

"Yeah, you can fix that little error by being a doll and-" you pause, then frown, struggling to find the right words.

"Muffin poisoned your tongue?"

"I'm trying to ask you to be my plus one for tonight's dinner-" you grit your teeth, your blood beginning to boil. "-at my parents house."

You didn't look him in the eye when you said that. And by the sounds of it, he doubts this is something he should be going to. Or something you should be going to. Not if it brings out this side of you.

"Who are the muffins for?"

They were for your sister. You broke her nose last week, which was never your intention, and the guilt has been eating you up alive since. The punch was meant for her asshole husband.

"You coming or not?"

"Let me grab a wine and the keys."

"We have muffins. No need to waste your good wine on mediocre tastes."

"I'm bringing the wine."

"If you make us stop to pick out flowers, I will watch porn with the volume on full blast every night for a week."

"Why are you always so violent?"

--

"So, how bad is it?" Bucky asks.

You've been in the car for a half an hour, because you chose the busiest route and the most congested during rush hour, and that's the first thing either of you have uttered since you politely dragged him out of his apartment.

You shrug. "Three roads lead to this one, so we'll be here another half hour."

"I mean the situation-" he drums his fingers against the wheel. "-you literally chose to be in a car with me, for the longest time possible. Either you want to get there late or you don't want to get there at all."

"Maybe I just like spending time with you."

Bucky scoffs, but doesn't question you further.

The car is silent, aside from the traffic outside, and you could almost relax. For just a moment, you could close your eyes and imagine you're somewhere else.

But you can't. Because you're not. You're on your way to a dinner that shouldn't be happening and is only happening because you're part of your neighbour's redemption list.

Because he just had to have a conscious.

"I punched my sister last week," you mumble.

Bucky wants to laugh. He wants to laugh so badly. He has met your sister, a handful of times - at the hospital, outside your room and outside your apartment door.

Every time she'd come over, she would knock hard enough to make him think she's part of SWAT team. And each time, he would could hear you scramble to switch off all devices that could alert her of your presence inside.

One time, you'd both arrived a few minutes after each other. His door was closer and already open, so you shoved your grocery in his hand and dived into his apartment to hide from your sister. He had to pretend he hasn't seen you since you left for work , and that the packet of sanitary pads that fell out were for his girlfriend.

He didn't have one.

He wants to laugh, because he doesn't like her at all. But he doesn't, because she's your sister. "What did she do?"

"She married an asshole-" you scoff. "-and decided to get in the way and I tried to punch said asshole."

At this, he grins. "And you need me there because?"

"I need you to keep me from trying to kill him," you begrudgingly admit. "I'm too high maintenance for prison."

"How bad is this guy that you need me to help you not kill him?"

"Bad enough that I'm gonna need you to park a few blocks away from the house," you turn to look at him, his confused eyes meeting yours for a quick second. "I told them we're taking the bus."

"Wow."

"Which means we only get to spend less than two hours there, if you drive a little slow-" you pause when he drives passed a McDonald's. "-hey, can we stop and get milkshake?"

He deadpans. "We have dinner plans with your parents."

"I get that you and them might have gotten along since you decided to be a hero," you glare at him. "But they're not as cool as the hospital visits made them seem."

Your parents have invited him over to dinner a handful of times, and each time he had to decline. You and him weren't on the best of terms, and he didn't want to make things worse by showing up for dinner without your knowledge.

He knows, first hand, that a few interactions aren't enough to give the full depth of a person. But he saw how devastated they were, how heartbroken they were, at the sight of tubes and needles sticking out of you.

He doesn't believe, he can't believe, for a second that they're as bad as you say they are.

But he won't argue with you. Not about this. "We'll get milkshake after."

"Hey, remember that coffee machine you br-"

"Oh, fuck you!"

***

You're not a fan of wine. At least, not the wine Bucky brought to the dinner.

An hour into the dinner and you've already had enough glasses to have Bucky worried. The wine is halfway to empty by the time dessert rolls in, and when your sister's husband clears his throat, you abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

The second hour into the dinner is where things got interested. Interesting enough for Bucky to take the bottle from you before you could throw it at someone's head. Mainly because he wanted to throw it at someone's head. Your sister's husband's head to be specific.

Just as your mother gets up to start making tea for the muffins you brought, Bucky is the first on his feet and the first to use the 'we have to get going before we miss the bus' excuse.

You grin at him, vision slightly hazy from the wine you drank on an empty stomach.

"Mhmm," you hum as you cling into him to get to your feet, "the bus. We gotta- the bus. Bah-yeee."

"I'll make sure she gets home safe," he promises to your parents and they believe him.

Hell, you believe him. If there's one thing you can trust your neighbour to do, it's to save your life. But not your coffee machine.

He guides back to the car, which is parked exactly where you told him to, and he's never been happier to have listened to you. You sing all the way back, some ridiculous song about when you're fat and old, and you're the most content he's ever seen you.

Drunk off wine, eyes glassy and smile wide, as you try to mimic his steps. You sigh when you get into your seat, even though you fight him on opening your own door, and fumble lazily with your seat belt until he helps you clip it in.

Your struggle to find a comfortable position, but forget all about that when he parks the car outside your favourite coffee shop. You're out before he can even unclip his seatbelt and you're inside before he makes it to the door.

"Hi," you whisper-yell as you lean against the counter. "Pssst. Hi. Hello."

The barista blinks at you. Bucky cuts in before he can get a word out. "We'll take coffee. Filter. And anything that's bread-"

"-don't listen to him, he breaks hearts for a living. Sometimes he rips them out." I jab your pointer finger against the countertop. "I will take the strongest coffee you've got. I'm in the mood for bad decisions and-"

"We'll be at the booth, in the back." Bucky gently pries you from the counter. "One coffee and two bottles of water-"

You try to smack his hands away. "Why must you be so- Barnes, I swear to god, I will take your parking space."

He shoves you into the booth, then takes a seat opposite you. You attempt to make a break for the counter, but the glare he fixes you with is enough to keep you in your place.

It should scare you. The look he gives you. You know what he is capable of, without mad scientists to control him, you know the damage he's done. It takes a special kind of strength to face people like the flag smashers, and a special kind of crazy to go after them.

Bucky is both. And yet, his glare doesn't scare you. So much so, that you return it.

"I hate your brother-in-law-"

"Sister's husband," you cut in to correct him. "I refuse to recognise him as my anything."

He nods. "Right. So, let me get this straight-"

Bucky pauses as the barista sets down the coffee, the water, two croissants, some breadsticks and a garlic roll. When he's satisfied that there's nothing else, he leaves you alone with Bucky and the breads.

"You got work tomorrow-" he puts sugar into your coffee and stirs, before handing it to you. "-so you're gonna need to eat as much, so that it absorbs all that wine."

You glare at him but still do as he says. He's right and you'd rather sulk than admit it.

"So," he clears his throat to get your attention. "Your sister is an asshole, that married an asshole. And your parents are enablers of all that bullshit?"

You nod, practically shoving the garlic bread into your mouth. You didn't touch the food your mother cooked and, other than that milkshake Bucky bought you, you haven't had anything to eat all day.

"Instead of just sending you to therapy-" he scrunches his face in disgust at the thought. "-I can't fucking believe I'm advocating for that, but instead of paying for therapy. They do that? Host a dinner, sit a circle and kumbaya the problems away?"

Taking a sip from your coffee, you continue to nod. "Is it helping?"

He frowns, meeting your eyes. "What?"

"The mandated sessions-"you swallow. "-I heard you and Wings talking about it."

Thin walls. Shared balconies. Despite not being in each other's life, both of you know more than enough because of your apartments.

Your balcony and his are separated by a small barrier, but you can still hear his conversations - and visa versa- if you leave your glass door open enough when he's out there.

The wall that separates your apartment is thin enough for him to pick up on your habits. You don't think you're a creature of habit, but he would disagree.

He can tell, just from your foot steps, what you're going to watch or do in the living room. From the little sounds you make, he can tell which series you're binge watching for the umpteenth time and which one is on just for background noise.

If you weren't a creature of habit, he wouldn't have found you in time. You wouldn't be sitting in front of him, asking about his wellbeing, instead of dealing with yours.

"Wings is Captain now," he corrects, and you accept the deflection.

You would never overstep, or push. Not with him. Never with him.

"If Captain, why Wings?"

Narrowing his eyes, he pushes the bread sticks closer to you. "Fine, Captain Wings."

Again, you obey the silent instruction.

"Where were we-"

"We were plotting an asshole's abduction," you tell him, "and then dropping him off at the bottom of the Atlantic ocean. If that's not available, then maybe near Dyer Island."

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Why would we drop your sister’s husband on an Island?”

"It's a place, with a shitload of great white sharks."

"And you know this because?"

"I like to always be prepared."

"For what?" His brows furrow. "Do you just know random places to dump people that–"

You cut in. "–will lead to an inevitable death by natural causes? Yes."

He stares at you. Actually stares. Openly, at you. He can't remember the last time he did that, looked at you, for no other reason than to just look.

You didn't always hate him. When he first moved into your apartment building, and the landlord introduced you too, you were indifferent. He didn't think you knew who he was, most people don't at first glance, so he was relieved. Indifference was definitely better than everything else.

That was until you walked passed him and Sam in the lobby of the building, a week after he moved in.

"Sarge–" you nodded at him, as you checked your mail. Then nodded at Sam as you made your way out of the building. "–Wings."

You knew, you always knew who he was, and just didn't care. That was refreshing, to say the least.

The hate only came that night, or the following morning, he wasn't sure. All Bucky knows is, he meddled, and now you hate him for it. For saving you.

He's tried to talk to you about it. Countless of times, he's tried, and each time you hate him a little bit more. Or so it seems.

He wants to talk about it now. It's obvious in the way he's looking at you, like he can't believe you're here, in front of him. You can't either, but you won't ever admit that to him.

Hell would sooner freeze over before you actually admitted that maybe, just maybe, he should have meddled sooner.

You won't. So, instead, you put down the bread stick and sit back. "I know a really cool coffee place... If you still need a new place to hang."

It's an olive branch. You don't ever say what you really mean, he knows that, and he smiles at that little fact. That he knows that, he knows you.

"Is the barista as dramatic as I hear?"

"Only to strangers that break down her doors," you shrug. "Oh, and guys who break her coffee machine–"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

You grin. Because you're just as petty as he is.

---

Tags: @sunflowerxbarnes , @ginger-swag-rapunzel​ , @arctic-duchess​

[wheresmynaya]

Hate to Date Ch.9 | Brittana

A/N - Lots to process, hey? I’ve been seeing in the reviews all the guesses of who will develop feelings first (& the few that are convinced they’ve already figured it out lol). It’s always interesting to see what y’all are thinking! Anyways, thanks for “tuning in” each Friday & thanks to those who have gifted me a coffee through ko-fi too. While I’m still in Lockdown 6.0, it’s really the little things that make a big difference. Until next time! 💙

Available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & under the cut!

“Okay,” Santana huffs as she turns to the blonde. “I know Artie’s your friend and you’ve got history and all but fuck that guy. Seriously, what the hell was that?”

Brittany nods along sadly, “I figured you’d say that once you met him.”

“God,” Santana shakes her head still coming down from wanting to cause bodily harm to him. “He really is a tool. Like the balls on him, complimenting you in front of your girlfriend. What a dick!”

“Yeah,” Brittany scratches at the back of her neck. “I told you he’s changed a lot.”

“You mean he used to be less of a dick at some point?”

“Surprisingly, yeah,” Brittany replies. “He won Most Brilliant Brainiac last year and now he thinks he’s God’s gift.”

Santana scoffs, “A gift that needs to be returned.”

“Stop,” Brittany scolds lightly. “He’s still my friend.”

“Well you sure know how to pick them.”

Brittany frowns and Santana instantly regrets uttering the words. Sometimes her mouth runs faster than her head can filter and by then it’s too late. Usually she wouldn’t feel bad about speaking so honestly but there’s something about the way Brittany pokes out her bottom lip like that that makes Santana falter.

“Sorry,” Santana says guiltily.

Brittany looks to Santana and nods, “I know he’s not the easiest person to get along with now, but he does have his moments.”

“Does he? I mean, what is the appeal?” Santana questions genuinely. “Because the personality is not a winner. I don’t even see him with a hot piece like me for arm candy.”

Brittany chuckles, “Yeah. I’m surprised about that too. I thought he would’ve brought two dates just to show off.”

Santana scrunches her nose in disgust, “It would take more than two dates to change my mind about him. Why does your team keep him around?”

“They love him. He’s so knowledgeable about so many things. He’s perfect for academic decathlons,” Brittany shrugs. “But I’m not sure how long it’ll last. He’s a great mentor but he’s gotten so critical of everyone, even me.”

“Especially you,” Santana corrects. She starts to feel heated all over again, “I can’t believe the way he spoke to you. Who the fuck does he think he is? Like sure, I can find you a little hard to swallow sometimes and it’s annoying how you’re just naturally great at so many things but I’d never say the things he did.”

“Honestly, I’ve heard worse things,” Brittany reasons. It sounds as though she’s trying to be lighthearted but the look on her face is anything but and that breaks Santana’s heart a little. “Artie’s criticism is nothing compared to what people used to say about me growing up.”

Santana frowns, “That doesn’t make it okay though. You know that, right?”

“It’s fine. I’ve got tough skin.”

“That’s not the point,” Santana sighs. “You shouldn’t have to take that kind of crap from anyone.”

“Sometimes you have to,” Brittany replies. “Sometimes you just have to take it and do the hard work in silence. Let the success speak for itself. Getting caught up in what everyone thinks is exactly how I lost my way before, so I’m not going to do it again.”

Santana shakes her head. She gets it – she really does – but it doesn’t make it any less okay.

These little glimpses of Brittany’s childhood really make Santana feel for her. She was fortunate enough to have parents and teachers who encouraged her studies – sometimes in an overbearing ways – but at least she had the support.

For Brittany, it seems like all odds were against her and for some twerp like Artie thinking he gets to be another one of those little voices making Brittany doubt herself really grinds Santana’s gears. He’s the worst kind of manipulative.

“It’s fine, really,” Brittany adds upon Santana’s silence. “I can take it when it’s coming from a friend.”

“Friend?” Santana laughs dismissively, “We’re not even friends and I’d never put you down like that.”

Brittany looks at her curiously and it makes Santana feel suddenly self conscious. Maybe her honesty has gotten her trouble yet again?

“Really?” Brittany asks.

Santana doesn’t hesitate, “Well yeah.”

Brittany’s shoulders ease a little and Santana takes that as a sign to continue.

“I was seriously this close to slapping him upside the head,” She says. “I may be many things and people may have occasionally called me a bitch from time to time, but even I wouldn’t stoop to the level he’s on. I wouldn’t put down my friend.”

Brittany’s brows rise, almost out of disbelief.

Santana wants to ask what that look is, but she’s a little nervous about the answer so instead she averts her attention to the dancefloor. She keeps her eyes roaming the crowd, avoiding meeting Brittany’s gaze.

“He’s just a little blunt,” Brittany attempts to reason again.

Santana shakes her head, “Whatever it is, you’re better off without him.”

Brittany sighs, “I just, I still care about him. I know I shouldn’t, but I don’t know. Have you ever felt that before? Wanting to hold out hope for someone to change?”

Santana’s anger dissipates for a second. Those words resonate with her and drudge up an unwanted memory. Has she ever felt the way Brittany does? The blonde has no idea…

Upon her silence, Brittany continues.

“You probably think I’m crazy but,” Brittany lets out a tired sigh. “Maybe I am. I just wish there was a way to bring back the real him – the one that took the time to show me around when I was new here. You know, the one who cared.”

Santana softens, because she knows the feeling all too well and it sucks big time.

“Don’t we all,” She mumbles.

Brittany looks to her, brows raised. Santana finds herself meeting Brittany’s gaze again and it’s like with one look at her the truth is impossible to hold back.

“How long do we have to suffer before we realize they’re not coming back though?” Santana asks. “What if that’s who they are now? This uncaring, unloving, unfazed ghost of a person we can’t even recognize anymore. That’s all we get and we’ve just got to deal with it and…and move on.”

Brittany looks at her curiously.

Santana averts her gaze to the crowd again, “Once again we have way too much in common for my liking.”

“What do you mean?”

Santana sighs, “I mean, you should just cut your losses now before it’s too late.”

Brittany smirks but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “Clearly you’ve never been in love before. It’s a bit harder than that. Not that this is love, I don’t know what this is.”

“It’s not love, that’s for sure.”

“Like you’d know,” Brittany jokes lightly.

Santana has the urge to laugh.

She’s almost forgotten that Brittany still doesn’t know that much about her past, because if she did she’d would know that Santana, of all people, knows what it’s like to be in love with someone you wish you weren’t.

“Well, I know it’s better to be told straight up about how you feel rather than to always wonder what went wrong or what could’ve been,” Santana finds herself saying. “But sometimes we don’t get that luxury. Maybe it’s just better to let it go and move on.”

“Or maybe he’ll finally snap out of it and see what he’s been missing now that I’m in this fake relationship with you.”

Santana’s surprised by Brittany’s honesty. The blonde looks surprised that it escaped her, but the two just stand there staring – trying to grasp the gravity of what they’ve both revealed.

Brittany’s using Santana to win over Artie; it’s almost laughable and yet, Santana can do nothing but stare in disbelief. She gets it though; she’s desirable, completely out of someone like Artie’s reach. Dating her would be enough to rattle anyone with eyes so it makes sense.

She knew Brittany was cunning, but it still surprises her. At least Santana’s reasoning for doing all of this has to do with her future, but Brittany? What’s Artie have to do with hers?

Santana scrunches her nose as her head starts filling in the blanks to that question. She pictures Artie in her place beside Brittany; them holding hands as they make their way to class, them making dumb googly eyes at each other at the library, them being this unstoppable power couple because of their success in academic decathlons.

It’s gross.

But who is she to pass judgement? She’s doing all of this because she couldn’t hold down a relationship to save her life, she’s in no position to judge Brittany’s.

And it’s not like this is the first time she’s been used like this before. Some of the girls she has been with only need her for a night, a way to get back at an ex or to make someone jealous. If anything, she’s become kind of an expert when it comes to being the middle-woman.

What’s the difference knowing Brittany’s doing the same? She supposes there isn’t one.

“Well, I guess I’ve found the real reason why you agreed to do this,” Santana says to fill the silence. As the words leave her, there’s an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Brittany looks away and replies, “I guess so.”

There’s a long pause where the two of them look anywhere but at each other. Santana’s gears are moving a mile a minute just trying to figure out the why of it all while Brittany’s – Brittany’s a mystery.

Santana glances back at her curiously, watching her profile and suddenly wanting to know more. How could someone be so blindly hopeful? Who knows if she’ll ever get that answer, but until then she still has to fulfill her obligation to Brittany tonight.

“Well, if this is what you really want to do then,” Santana pauses – trying to shake off the surprise and get back into the zone. Tonight’s about Brittany and being her perfect fake girlfriend and what Brittany wants, Brittany gets. “Then we’ve got to do this the right way. Really show him what he’s missing.”

Brittany quirks a brow, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Guys like him always want what they can’t have,” Santana says simply. “It’ll be so easy.”

“And what do you suggest?”

Santana smirks, “Just follow my lead.”

\\

Santana’s lead ends up involving lots of flirting. Her goal was to help Brittany make Artie jealous, but she secretly kind of likes the uncomfortable look he gets anytime he happens to glance their way. He’s not so cocky and arrogant now!

It only gets worse when Brittany offers Santana a dance.

They find Mike and Tina again on the dancefloor and the couple waves to Santana and Brittany happily before getting lost in the music again. Santana and Brittany do the same, but it takes them a second before they find their synchronicity.

Afterall, this is their first time dancing together – things are bound to get a little awkward.

Thankfully, it’s all upbeat stuff – songs that are easy to groove to and they find their rhythm a couple songs in. The couple keeps it tame for the most part, almost forgetting what all of this is for, until they notice Artie watching again from a distance.

Brittany notices him first and starts dipping her hands lower and lower down Santana’s back, letting them settle low around her waist. It has Santana’s heart rate spiking until she catches on and starts letting her hands roam too.

“Poor guy,” Santana jokes when she catches sight of him. “He has no idea what he’s started.”

Brittany chuckles although she shakes her head, “It’s almost mean.”

“Fuck him,” Santana shrugs before turning her back to Brittany. She reaches back with one hand settling at the base of Brittany’s neck. “It’s his loss. Isn’t that the point of this?”

“You’re right,” Brittany nods. She leans into the crook of Santana’s neck, “His loss.”

Brittany then sets her hands on Santana’s hips, strong and steady, and pulls her in close so that their hips fit snuggly. It surprisingly tugs at something deep and dormant within Santana and she finds herself leaning into it, rolling her head back to rest against Brittany’s shoulder.

With the way Brittany’s rocking into her along with the beat, Santana has to bite her cheek to keep from making a noise. Who knew someone who spends most of their day in a musty library could move like this? Santana’s a little starstruck to say the least.

She can’t remember the last time she danced with someone like this and she starts to feel the effects of the alcohol and a tiny bit of desperation because it’s been such a long time. It’s actually sad how tightly she’s wound up. She’s sure she’d probably snap from just a touch which is so not her style, but she knows she’s not in the right kind of company to finally break.

She’s on the job; Brittany’s a job and there’s no time for mixing pleasure with work.

But damn, does it feel good when Brittany’s hands squeeze at her hips. Or when she rocks into her so smoothly along with the beat. Or how it sends shivers all over her when Brittany whispers into her ear – she’s not even saying anything risky but God it doesn’t matter.

And even if all of this is for show, Santana’s so deprived of this kind of affection that she doesn’t care – Brittany can use her all night if she wants.

Santana doesn’t begin to notice where her thoughts are taking her until she spots Artie wheeling away.

“He’s leaving,” Santana notes as she turns in Brittany’s embrace.

Brittany’s hands go to rest against the small of Santana’s back, “Do you think he gets the idea?”

Santana smirks and looks up at Brittany, “I think everyone gets the idea.”

A blush starts to bloom as blue eyes dart bashfully away, “Sorry. Was that too much? I was just following your lead like you said.”

“It’s fine. It’s the most action I’ve had in awhile,” Santana jokes.

Brittany gives her a unimpressed look but Santana’s smile only grows because of it.

The music shifts to something slow, old school Elvis. Santana recognizes the instrumental instantly; Maribel and Eddie’s first dance song. Honestly, it’s most couple’s first dance song – apparently you can’t get any more creative than Can’t Help Falling in Love.

She attempts to find her exit, but they’re surrounded by couples now. It would cause way too big of a scene to try and escape, so she goes with her only option. She lets Brittany take the lead and they start to sway.

Santana’s fingers thread at the back of Brittany’s neck while the blonde’s hands fall to Santana’s hips. They do the slow side-to-side move, but the sudden closeness has Santana feeling oddly shy. It’s bringing back memories of school functions and dancing awkwardly with dates she never wanted.

“You really miss it that much?” Brittany asks softly while they sway. “All the hook-ups?”

Santana sputters a laugh, unsure of how to respond, but one look at Brittany has her realizing that the blonde is genuinely asking. Her smile falters and she goes back to looking everywhere but inquisitive blue eyes.

“You gonna shame me for it again?” Santana asks jokingly.

She hates how quickly things between them can feel way too personal for her liking. Even more so, she hates how easy it’s starting to be to want to open up more around the girl.  

“No, I was just curious,” Brittany shrugs. “This probably isn’t what you’re used to doing at a place like this.”

“I’m not usually at places like this.”

“You know what I mean,” Brittany replies. “Parties or clubs or whatever. You wouldn’t be slow dancing with a potential lay. You don’t seem like that kind of girl.”

Santana scoffs playfully, “Well once again, you don’t know me at all. Slow dancing is my jam, it really gets the girls hot and bothered.”

Brittany quirks her brow, “Seriously?”

“Of course not,” Santana chuckles. “I’m usually out of there by the time the slow songs come on. They’re not my style.”

“Knew it.”

“But it’s not horrible,” Santana dismisses as they continue to sway. “I wouldn’t say slow dancing with you is at the top of my list of the worst things I’ve ever had to do.”

Brittany looks surprised, “Oh really?”

“It’s in the Top 5 for sure,” Santana jokes. “But it’s not number one.”

“You’re too kind,” Brittany jokes.

“I try. But hey – you’ve surprisingly got rhythm, Pierce!” Santana compliments. “Wouldn’t have pegged you for a dancer.”

Brittany laughs, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”

Santana chuckles, “First the little thing you’ve got for Wheels and now this? I don’t think I can handle anymore surprises for the rest of night.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “But you’re having fun?”

Santana shrugs, trying to be dismissive but her smile gives her true feelings away. She’s at a fancy place with great music and free alcohol looking fly as hell and one of her missions for the night is to piss off a chauvinistic douchebag – fun is an understatement.

“It’s not the kind of ragers I’m used to,” Santana teases. “But yeah – I’m having fun. Dancing with you is fun.”

Brittany’s face fills with a grin, “Yeah. I think dancing with you is fun too. It’s a bonus that Artie gets a little peeved as well.”

“That’s probably my favorite part,” Santana agrees and they continue dancing for a little while longer.

\\

Santana finds that messing with Artie is child’s play, but it’s oh so satisfying.

Santana and Brittany take turns pretending to whisper sweet nothings into each other’s ear once they get to their assigned table. They find it easy to giggle along with one another when their sweet nothings are really just lame pick up lines that would never work in real life. But they say it in these ramped up seductive voices and that makes it all the more hilarious.

Meanwhile, Artie sits across from them with a sourpuss look on his face.

Maybe they’ve gotten away from the point of all this – that being to make Artie jealous – or maybe it really is working? Whatever it is, Santana can’t find it in her to reel them back in, not when it’s this much fun.

\\

Dinner is served not too long after and Santana’s amazed once again by the spread. There’s giant cuts of filet mignon atop a colorful array of fresh Spring veggies. There’s oysters and huge lobster tails and extravagant towers of shrimp! The organizers clearly spared no expense with the menu and Santana excitedly awaits her dinner as the waitstaff start to come around to top up everyone’s wine glasses.

Santana watches as dishes are set down in front of everyone, all alternating between seafood and steak and the occasional vegetarian option. Everything looks so damn good and she glances next to her, wondering what Brittany will get.

“I ordered the shrimp,” Brittany tells her just as the plate is set down. “I got you the steak. I hope that’s okay? I wasn’t too sure.”

“Classy,” Santana nods as her plate is set down too. The garnishes make it look like artwork and she’s almost too afraid to touch it. “God, this looks so good. You didn’t mention there was free food too. This place is heaven.”

Brittany chuckles as she reaches for her cutlery.  

While everyone eats, there’s quiet chatter amongst the table.

Santana’s so glad that Mike and Tina are around, at least that’s one couple that she doesn’t mind. Most people are pretty pretentious – all I’m so much smarter than you because I know random shit about random shit – and it makes Santana want to roll her eyes so hard but she doesn’t for Brittany’s sake.

Unlike Santana, Brittany gets along well with everyone and somehow sees past the horrible personalities. That’s not too surprising considering how she feels about Artie though.

Then again, maybe Brittany was right about there being a nice guy underneath all that ego because when Artie does finally get to talking to her again – he’s not a dick. They talk excitedly about comics or something and Santana notes the way they both light up.

For once, there’s a glimpse of him being a decent human being and maybe – just maybe – Santana sees what Brittany does.

But he’s not off the hook just yet, not after the way he started off the night. She doesn’t want to rock the boat though, so she quietly eats her dinner and plays the role of perfect fake girlfriend just like she said she would. This night isn’t about her, it’s about Brittany and she’s going to do her best to keep it that way.

\\

A while later, dessert begins to be brought out as a few speeches are given up on stage. The announcer talks about the many prestigious teams in the room and how talented everyone is judging by their high percentages. Most of it goes over Santana’s head, not really interested in how academic decathlon clubs work but what does spark some interest though is when the awards start getting presented.

There’s a kind of anticipation that settles over the room and Santana looks around noting just how many clubs are in attendance. She had no idea academic decathlons were a thing until this year, but to see everyone so on edge as they await the reveal of this year’s winner really puts things into perspective for her.

When Santana glances to her side, she finds that Brittany’s got her eyes squeezed tight and her fingers are crossed on both hands. As she looks around the room, she sees club members look similarly – hoping and praying.

The Brainiacs happen to come in Second Place in the overall thing, but Brittany stands and claps along with everyone else despite things not going her team’s way. Santana watches her and smiles because this girl really is just so pure. Here she is clapping and pumping her fist in the air as the first place team take to the stage. Nothing about it is forced because she’s genuinely happy for them and that amazes Santana.

She didn’t think people like Brittany actually existed and yet there she stands.

\\

The lead up for presenting the award for Most Brilliant Brainiac is much more anticipated.

Santana looks around the room as it seems like everyone’s on the edge of their seat. It’s almost comical, because it’s basically an award for the biggest nerd in the room and these people actually want it.

Still, Santana listens quietly.

She notices Artie fixing his dumb bowtie and checking his teeth in the reflection of his silver spoon as if he already knows what’s coming. She so hopes he doesn’t win just because of that. She doesn’t care who it goes to, she doesn’t care if it’s an even bigger tool than him – if that’s even possible – all she cares about is watching the guy get the biggest reality check known to man.

Suddenly, she’s on the edge of her seat just like everyone else.

“This year the award goes to,” The announcer pauses for dramatic effect.

Santana’s still waiting for the name to be called out, but the spotlight shining directly beside her is answer enough.

“No way!” Brittany beams. She doesn’t know what to do with herself, she just looks from side to side making sure that the spotlight is on the right person. “Me? It’s me?”

“Come on up, Miss Pierce!” The announcer gestures proudly.

Their entire table turns to applaud. Santana notices Mike with the biggest grin on his face as he claps while Tina’s snapping picture after picture for her article.

Brittany’s in awe as she makes her way onto the stage, the crowd roaring with applause as she goes. When she gets to the podium, the man hands her a gold trophy shaped like a brain and then presents her to the room.

“Here she is, folks! This year’s Most Brilliant Brainiac! Give it up for Miss Brittany S. Pierce!”

Before she realizes it, Santana’s on her feet in a second and claps so hard her hands start to sting.

“That’s my girl!” She shouts and pumps her fist in the air.

Brittany must hear her from the stage because she ducks her head bashfully at the shout out, her cheeks going a little pink as she soaks in the applause.

Santana glances over at Artie who barely claps. She rolls her eyes at him, because he yet again shows his true colors. How he flies under the radar is a mystery to her, but Brittany’s not around to hold her back this time.

So she points a threatening finger at him and rubs a little salt in his ego.

“Take that, Professor X! You suck so bad!”

Artie looks a little scandalized, but he keeps his mouth shut as Brittany absorbs the limelight. She looks at her trophy like she can’t believe its hers and Santana swears she sees those pretty blue eyes start to well with tears. This time they’re happy tears though and Santana’s so relieved for that!

A moment later, Brittany’s making her way back to their table with her new trophy in hand.

“Look! It’s so heavy,” Brittany giggles as she shows off the award to Santana.

Santana smiles fondly. Only Brittany could be this proud about being the dorkiest dork in the room. She doesn’t know what it is about the way she looks, the way her eyes light up to match the brilliance of her smile, the way they seem to be even bluer than usual.

All she knows is that she can’t help but pull Brittany in for a deep kiss.

She can feel the way Brittany stiffens in her arms at first before relaxing – the kiss takes her by surprise too, she can only imagine what Brittany’s thinking.

Alarm bells ring but then she feels a cool hand touch her cheek and suddenly everything stops because she’s being kissed back.

Brittany’s kissing her back.

It’s soft and gentle and when Santana pulls away, she’s swears she sees stars.

All Santana’s thinking about is the way Artie spoke to Brittany earlier, how he scolded her like a child. She thinks about Brittany’s parents and how they never truly supported her until recently. She thinks about the stories Brittany’s told about her experiences in high school and her time at MIT. She thinks about how after all of that, Brittany’s still maintained her kindness.

Brittany’s better than her, she’s so much better than everyone here, and she doesn’t even know it.

And maybe Santana’s just really proud of her – that’s why she kissed her? Maybe she’s just really into her whole fake girlfriend role right now? Maybe she’s just super committed and she’s finally matched Brittany’s level of going above and beyond?

That’s got to be the explanation for it, because no way she’ll admit to it being anything else.

“I’m so proud of you,” Santana quickly says. “Way to stick it to those guys.”

Brittany blushes, “I really didn’t expect anyone to vote for me. I hope they’re not mad.”

“Fuck them if they are!” Santana retorts. “You worked so hard for this. If they can’t be supportive of you then they don’t deserve you as a teammate.”

Brittany relaxes upon hearing Santana’s words, “You mean that?”

Santana smiles and nods like it’s simple, “Well yeah. You’re a genius, Britt.”

Brittany grins again and looks down at her trophy bashfully, “I’m also Brilliant.”

“Yeah, that too,” Santana chuckles.

They go to take their seats when they realize everyone’s kind of staring at them still. Santana doesn’t care all that much, Brittany deserves the recognition. She finds a kind of joy in making sure she knows it too.

“Seriously though, congrats,” Santana tells her. “You really earned it.”

Brittany ducks her head before leaning closer and whispers low enough so only Santana can hear. The move makes Santana’s heart suddenly race as she’s reminded of their time on the dancefloor earlier.

“Is that you talking or my fake girlfriend?” Brittany asks.

Santana bites her lip as she ponders that. For the first time, it’s kind of hard to tell. This arrangement is like being on-call; you never know when they have to slip into character so now it’s second nature and maybe it’s finally starting to blur the lines which Santana didn’t think would ever be possible.

But just to be safe she says, “I’m a pretty good actress. Aren’t I?”

Brittany only smirks as they both start to giggle and admire her new trophy while Artie stews in his jealousy.

\\

They spend the rest of the Ball taking pictures with Brittany’s trophy for the school magazine and hitting the dancefloor once again.

Obviously, the dancing is the best part and by now everyone’s got a good buzz going with the amount of booze in the place. It’s surprisingly a good time – one of the best Santana’s had in months and it’s even more surprising that it’s in Brittany’s company.

If you would’ve told her at the start of the semester that this is where she’d be right now, she wouldn’t have believed you at all. Never in a million years would she be caught dead in a place like this, but it’s funny how things change – how relationships evolve.

Just tonight, she walked into this Ball wondering if she even stood a chance up against Brittany’s wrath. She really messed up, she knows that, but all of this is new territory for her. She’s not used to looking out for anyone else other than her family and Puck, but she’s starting to get it now.

If Brittany was anyone else, Santana probably wouldn’t have cared about her hurt feelings the other night. She would’ve let the girl go without a second thought because who has time to put up with the drama, but this relationship has her doing a lot of things she normally wouldn’t.

It’s reintroducing her to things that have been long forgotten and Santana doesn’t really know how to feel about that. It’s drudging up the old Santana; the vulnerable, the gullible, the sensitive one who has no place here now.

It’s a lot more than she signed up for, but she supposes it’s only natural to have those feelings start to resurface again when they’re both so committed to playing their roles perfectly. If anything, it’s a reminder that once upon a time Santana really was perfect girlfriend material.

And tonight, she gets to live out that little memory.

Maybe if her heartbreak didn’t harden her, maybe this is what she’d be like? Maybe she’d actually date a girl like Brittany? Maybe she’d stop selling herself short just like Puck said? Maybe she’d stick around long enough for something real to happen?

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

It always takes Santana by surprise that when she gets to thinking like this, it’s always in the presence of Brittany. This girl; Santana knew being with her would be a challenge but not like this. She can’t hold it against her though, after all this is her idea and really it could be so much worse than what it is.

They don’t really owe each other anything, they’re just pawns in their elaborate games – but here they are dancing the night away without a care in the world and for once things feel fine.

It’s a nice break from all that heaviness from earlier.

And for a moment, Santana doesn’t think it’s all too bad. The whole possibility of being friends with Brittany thing; when it’s like this, it really isn’t the worst thing ever.

She might actually kind of like it.

Other than Puck, Santana doesn’t really have that many people she’s close with. She doesn’t have many people she’d consider friends. For the past two years, maybe even longer, she’s kept people at an arm’s length.

After everything, she’s just not into getting close to anyone anymore. Letting people into her shit sounds like a lot of work and kind of terrifying.

What if they don’t like what they find? What if she’s too much? What if they decide to leave too? What if it changes her again?

It’s too big of a risk. It’s best that she does the leaving instead. It’s the only way she can keep some type of control on things, because no way she’ll let anyone go for a joyride with her feelings again.

She likes to keep her circle small, but being around Brittany starts to make her wonder. What’s the harm in trying?

A thought like that makes her laugh though; that hopefulness is a direct result of hanging around Brittany way too much.

“It’s so hot in here! Why’s it so hot?” Brittany sighs and wipes at her brow with the back of her hand. Her cheeks are flushed and sweat glistens in the hollow of her neck deliciously.

Santana averts her eyes when she realizes she’s staring.

“You’re dancing up a storm, that’s why!” Santana teases.

“Because it’s so much fun!” Brittany does a twirl then starts to sway when she stops. “The dizziness…not so much.”

“Maybe don’t spin around like that?” Santana suggests playfully. “You want to go outside? Get some air?”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” Brittany nods but just before she follows after Santana she runs back to the table. “Mike! Mike, watch my trophy!”

Mike drunkenly nods and gives her a thumbs up.

“Thanks! Okay, let’s go,” Brittany tells Santana and leads the way out.

They end up going to the grand steps Santana walked up earlier in the night and take a seat by one of the columns. The air is crisp and refreshing compared to the stuffiness inside and it’s such a relief. They rest their heads back and soak it in.

“You see Artie’s face when I won?” Brittany giggles.

Santana smirks, “Oh yeah. That prick; I was hoping he’d lose. Makes it even better that it was to you.”

“I know I shouldn’t think it but,” Brittany pauses to take in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh. “I’m glad he lost too. Maybe it’ll bring him down a notch.”

Santana chuckles, “Hopefully it’ll bring him down a few notches. That guy is a piece of work. I still can’t believe you’re into him.”

Brittany ducks her head and sighs again as they fall into a comfortable silence.

Even if Brittany doesn’t show it, Santana can feel something’s gone unsaid.

They haven’t talked about the kiss from earlier, but maybe there’s nothing that they need to talk about? They’re out in public, it goes without saying that they have to do what normal couples would – like kiss when your girlfriend wins an award.

Why would they need to talk about it? It’s not like it was the first time they’ve ever done that. Then again, when Santana gets to thinking – the last time was New Year’s Eve.

Maybe Santana’s just overthinking it all? This is why she doesn’t do relationships or feelings – real or not! They’re confusing and annoying and she doesn’t want it.

God, she wishes she was on Brittany’s level of tipsy. That would make things so much easier!

“You know when we were talking before, you said that we’ve got too much in common,” Brittany mentions awhile later. She keeps her eyes turned up to the sky as she asks, “What’d you mean by that?”

The question takes Santana by surprise as she tries to remember their conversation from earlier. When she does, she wishes that she didn’t. It’s not a subject she loves talking about, nor does she love revisiting its memories, but for some odd reason she can feel her safeguard wavering.

“I guess I was in your place once with Artie,” Santana replies. “Sort of.”

“You were into him too?”

Santana chuckles at the joke, “No way. I mean, I fell for someone I shouldn’t have.”

“What happened?”

Santana pauses, wondering if she wants to go down this road. The only other person she’s ever talked about all this to is Puck and that’s only because he was partly involved. She’s done her best to bury every feeling, every memory, but there’s something about Brittany that has Santana opening up just a little more.

“There was a girl a long time ago,” Santana finds herself saying before glancing Brittany’s way. “The one from the picture in my room back in Lima.”

Brittany nods and quietly encourages her to continue.

“She was my best friend growing up,” Santana says. “The only one who ever understood me. We were close, closer than friends should be. Eventually, I wanted to be more – make things official.”

“You?” Brittany asks in disbelief.

“I know, shocking,” Santana jokes through a sad smile. “She said she wanted it too, but she was afraid. She wanted to keep things hidden, keep us hidden, and I…I loved her so I followed along.”

Santana feels her chest tighten with that long-forgotten pain, but then Brittany’s hand finds hers. She squeezes softly at her hand and suddenly the feeling isn’t so bad.

“She kept saying one day it’ll be different,” Santana goes on. “One day we won’t have to hide, one day we’d just run off together, but until then we had to pretend. It sounded like a good plan and I felt so strongly about her, so I waited. I watched her get into relationships with guy after guy just to keep people off of our scent, off of her scent.”

“The older we got, the further in the closest she went. It was like she forget that it was all a cover and the life she was living was a lie.”

Brittany nods sympathetically.

“I ended up coming out midway through our Junior year,” Santana says. “I thought that maybe if I went first then she’d see that it was okay, but it kind of had the opposite effect. Something happened, maybe her parents divorce or something else? I don’t know, but she changed and not in a good way. I was out and proud but it was hard when the girl I loved wasn’t. It kind of felt pointless but I kept waiting for her.”

“By Senior year, I started to lose hope. I guess she did too because it stopped being about us running off together. Instead it was only her doing the running,” Santana continues. “While everyone was making their big plans for college, she was a mystery.”  

She starts to feel that annoying lump in her throat forming and swallows it back.

“All I knew was that she was getting out of Lima by any means necessary,” She says with a deep sigh. “She was so closed off though, spiraling even. I had no idea what her plans were anymore. No one did. I just didn’t think that it involved stealing my shot at a scholarship.”

“Wait, what?” Brittany frowns. “What scholarship?”

“My school had this partnership with Harvard,” Santana answers half-heartedly. “An alumni or whatever is a big wig there and has this scholarship aimed at students with extraordinary promise in law. It’s such a waste, really. No one usually goes for it because no one ever dreams of getting out of there nor would they dare go to law school, but getting out of Lima was always our dream. With her family background, she could get in easy but me? It was a little harder. That scholarship was my only shot and she took it.”

“How’d she do that?”

Santana shrugs, “It’s always been a mystery. Out of the entire school, we were the only ones who even cared enough to look into it. We agreed before that with my GPA and personal goals that I’d have the better chance of getting it, but that was before things changed. It’s no coincidence that she got in and not me. I ticked every box when it came to the type of candidate they were looking for.”

“You couldn’t tell the organizers about it?” Brittany asks. “Have them kick her out or something?”

Santana sighs, “I couldn’t do that to her.”

“Why not? Santana, that’s seriously unfair. This is your education, something you’re so passionate about.”

“I know,” Santana answers dejectedly. “Believe me, I know. But, I was young and in love and stupid. I still had hope for some reason, hope that she’d snap out of it? I knew she took her parents divorce really hard and things had changed for her in terms of getting into Harvard with their help. Maybe she needed the scholarship more than me?”

“Even so, that’s not the way to go about it. That’s not fair to you.”

“True,” Santana nods. “But a part of me figured that maybe once she got in and got settled, she’d be okay? Maybe we’d be okay again. Maybe getting out of Lima was something she needed way more than I did? I guess I was wrong though.”

Brittany looks to Santana apologetically but Santana hates that look. She hates being seen as anything but confident and sure and unwavering.

“See? Told you I’m not selfish,” Santana tries to joke to ease the tension.

It doesn’t really change the way Brittany watches her though.

“Yeah, I guess you were right.”

“Surprise,” Santana lets out a weak chuckle as she averts her gaze. “It sure did backfire though. Huh?”

“Have you heard from her since?” Brittany asks. “Did she ever apologize?”

“Hell no,” Santana tries to laugh off the pain. “She didn’t even stick around for our graduation ceremony. She just packed up and left. No goodbye or anything.”

“Wow,” Brittany shakes her head. “How could someone who’s supposed to care about you hurt you like that?”

Santana finds herself smirking as she looks to Brittany. She has no idea she’s in the same sort of situation with Artie. It’s always easier making sense of things when it isn’t your problem though she supposes.

“Anyway, it’s whatever,” Santana waves off. “It’s been two years and I still wonder why the hell I gave up a Harvard education for a girl. Love makes you do dumb shit, it’s the worst.”

Brittany goes to squeeze Santana’s hand again, “I’m so sorry, Santana.”

Santana keeps on her brave face, “It’s fine.”

“It isn’t.”

Santana knows, but she just shrugs. What’s the point of feeling sorry for herself now?

“I guess what I was meaning earlier is that,” Santana continues. “Maybe this thing between you and Artie; it’s better for you in the long run if you spare yourself the heartache and accept that people change. Sometimes it’s for the worst and you can’t do a thing about it. It is what it is, you know? You can wait but it’s only wasting your time in the end – take it from me.”

Brittany nods and they both rest back against the column again, sitting in each other’s company in silence. It’s like Brittany’s taking in all that Santana has said while Santana attempts to pack up all those little memories she’s just drudged up and stuff them away.

“People change for the better too though,” Brittany mentions quietly. “Sometimes all that patience and time you put into waiting ends up being worth it.”

“Maybe,” Santana nods. “I just don’t know how to be that optimistic anymore. I’m too tired.”

“I get that,” Brittany replies and leans her head against Santana’s.

Santana finds herself leaning against Brittany too, relaxing against each other in a peaceful balance. Another comfortable silence settles over them and Santana’s thankful for it. After opening up to Brittany, she doesn’t think she can handle anymore of these heart to hearts.

Another reason she keeps to herself, talking about feelings is exhausting.

“You know…I didn’t say it before because I was still kind of mad at you,” Brittany mentions softly. “But I’m glad you changed your mind about tonight. I’m glad you’re here.”

Santana smirks, feeling a giddiness flutter in her chest that chases off the remaining heaviness there. “Yeah well, picturing you suffer here all alone with these losers wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. Thought I’d come see it for myself.”

Brittany snickers and pokes lightly at Santana’s side.

“Sounds like you might be taking a liking to me,” Brittany teases.

Santana scoffs playfully, “God no.”

“I mean, if you really wanted me to suffer you could’ve worn something that would make you look a little less…”

Santana glances over to find Brittany stumbling on the right word. The hesitance makes her smirk.

“Hot? You were going to say hot.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” Santana teases. “You can admit it, Britt-Britt. You think I look fine as hell.”

Brittany shakes her head although she begins to blush. “You always this full of yourself?”

“You should know the answer to that by now,” Santana quips as she rises to stand. She strikes a sexy pose while Brittany continues to sit before her. “Come on. Would you really rather I turn up here looking a hot mess? I wouldn’t be doing a very good job of being arm candy.”

Brittany’s eyes rake up Santana’s body, taking in all her perfection. Just like the powers of her cheerleading skirt, Santana’s dress works wonders all the same.

“I guess not,” Brittany admits.

Santana grins, “That’s what I thought.”

“But you’re not just arm candy to me,” Brittany teases sweetly.

Santana instantly rolls her eyes and holds out her hand to Brittany, “Let’s get back in there. I think it’s time for another drink. I can still taste your Chapstick from earlier.”

Brittany giggles as Santana pulls her up, “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

[rayshippouuchiha]

Can I be honest?

Ao3 actually kept me from harm BECAUSE it hosted darker content that is well tagged.

Let me explain. I started my fanfiction days pretty young and in ff.net no less. I loved reading and I was curious. First thing I learned before going on the internet was from my father (the internet is not for kids, stay sharp, you going into an adult place, act like it). I was very careful but I was still curious.

So, I started small, but because of the ff.net tag mess I did get burned. A few times. Sudden violence, amputations, sex scenes (god i remember the lemon scale bs, as if i understood it in the first place) (this was before the purge). This was because all the well written fics were mostly in the M rating but had no specific tags so I had no idea if the M was for torture, cursing, or god knows what, I couldn't filter out anything.

Some of those things I still remember, they left a mark in a way, but that wasn't the writer's fault because they couldn't tag and I ignored the author note sections because most of the time it was just rambles of the author talking with the characters self-insert style or about their real life problems, how was I supposed to find a warning in that kind of mess? And that's on me.

In that period I kinda got introduced to sex, a thing that wasn't talked about around me in real life. I was already a bit older, so I read it no problem. Then got introduced to kinks and found them interesting.

That's where Ao3 comes in. I found it when looking at fic recs and saw a new internet address instead of ff.net. For me, it was the holy grail. I was still a young curious teen girl but suddenly had access to a whole library of cool shit. I read a lot of mainstream fics and switched between fandoms like a deck of cards. Then, I saw the E rating. I was interested and clicked. Clicked through the adult content warnings like a true kid lying about their age on the internet.

I saw tags galore! Now, for the first time I was, in a way, safe while exploring dark stuff. Because one fic on the same page was tagged underage (the characters were my age at the time) and was E, while a whole other E fic on the same page was graphic torture case fic and worse. And it was all tagged.

So there I went, looking at fic, going hmmm and deciding: oh that's interesting, ew no, oh that's gross, huh i wonder what that is, this sounds good, oh i love this, uhhhhh hmm should I risk it, OH HELL NO.

And that's the thing! I knew what I was reading! I could experiment with kinks and dark things in a completely safe environment of the fantasy world!

Ao3 in a way saved me from talking about these things with others and accidentaly falling into an actual predator's hands (think student/teacher dynamic, grooming), because my curiosity wasn't going away, I still would have looked sooner or later, and if it wasn't for the no-interaction interface of Ao3 (a story can't kidnap or molest you), I could have been hurt.

Like yeah, no shit, I know I'm lucky that my brain didn't get actual trauma from textual depictions of dark stuff I stumbled on in my early days, but what I did get was more valuable than the risk of trauma (also, you can't get trauma from a tag, but you could from the text that has the tag, so the reader is still the one responsible, they were warned what was inside the box and still opened it).

I got boundaries, squicks, hard no's, absolute limits, whatever people call them these days. I now know what I can deal with and what I can't. I know myself better and could now fight against a person trying to bend or break them. I read dark shit so I know what kind of emotions I get from them and in what circumstances (what I like in text pretty much never carries into real life (even the mild things like biting), surprise).

But purity police would look at my Ao3 history and scream their head off about how I'm a deviant roaming free to attack people like a rabid dog, because obviously I must secretly wish to do that in real life!

And then if they met me they would get the confusion of a lifetime! They would have this image of a sexual deviant/old as fuck creeper/freak and then see me, a 21 year old woman, a well adjusted and social individual who has NEVER and will NEVER hurt a fly, eating chips in bed and reading fucked up shit about fictional characters for entertainment.

Because that's the difference. It's not the average people reading fucked up shit that are dangerous to the public, it's the people who already were fucked in the head before reading anything. No story on this Earth can force you to commit a crime unless you already wanted to do it and were just looking for an excuse.

Case in point, the Dexter inspired murders ("it wasn't me it was the book, I am innocent, it was the evil book, as such I am not to blame, blame the author!") and the NUMEROUS video game related murders (oh no it's not the parent's fault they bought their unstable child a 18+ rated game, it's the game's/creator's fault!"

Fiction and Reality coexist and influence each other in various ways (propaganda, misinformation, stereotypes, false data), but not like this.

And do you guys know why? Because we have an instinctive moral compass, we know right from wrong, and anyone fooling themselves thinking "I would have never done that if this [media] didn't tell/force me to do it" are in fact lying. Again, they would have done it eventually or even wanted to do it already, they just found a viable excuse now, all free to use as a "get out of jail free" card.

Sorry for the long ask and for my English (non-native speaker), you can ignore this, I won't mind. Just got a bit ticked off at people blaming writers for shit they didn't do. So here is my perspective from a long time reader's point of view.

If all these works didn't make me into a monster after all this time reading, then maybe, just maybe, it's not the works' fault.

You bring up absolutely wonderful and important points darling. Thank you for sharing.

And your English is fantastic so don’t worry about it.

[mattzerella-sticks]

“is scamming gay rights?” - Dean & Jack, DeanCas, Bi!Dean (ao3)

Jack tries teaching Dean about his latest obsession, TikTok, except a breakdown in communication teaches Dean that, sometimes, acronyms can mean more than one thing.

           Dean didn’t understand exactly what Jack rambled on about, but he passed the point of no return a few minutes back and couldn’t interrupt without revealing he had no clue what the younger boy prattled on and on about. As it was Jack currently kept pushing his phone in Dean’s face, gesturing at it and shaking it every ten seconds or so. Dean glanced between Jack and it; each time he did there was a new video on screen and by the time he shifted his focus back to his son the lecture had moved elsewhere along a road he had trouble following. By then, he let himself sink into the comfortable numbing cadence of Jack’s speech, sipping at his beer, surfacing only when he recognized a word before diving back under.

           His ears perked in familiarity as Jack used an acronym Dean recently learned, and so he tuned back in. Jack drew the phone closer to his side of the kitchen table, tapping on it. “There was this big problem with mlms actually, and even though I filtered my home page to avoid profiles like that, they kept popping up,” he said, “Luckily TikTok went ahead and basically blacklisted and deleted all mlm content. Now, I rarely see any of those kinds of content.”

           Dean’s features shuddered, mouth dropping slightly in fright. His ears echoed with the awful drumming of his heart, and a painful wheeze tickled his throat, demanding freedom. He released it on a sigh, slightly curling in on himself. “W-what?” he asked, “You… you didn’t like it?”

           Jack shrugged, “I mean, it was kind of annoying, but I learned to ignore them. When I learned how harmful the content was, however, I was very glad to hear that TikTok went ahead and took some sort of action – Hey!”

           On autopilot, Dean snatched the phone out of Jack’s hands. He slammed it, hard, on the table between them. Dean pointed a harsh finger towards Jack, snarling his next few words. “I don’t want to ever hear you talk like that again.”

           “What?”

           “Or!” he added, fist hammering Jack’s phone further into the wood, “use this, this damned app – if this is what it turns you into!” He huffed, hands retreating to steeple at his chin. “You think you’re raising a kid right… raising a kid to be accepting despite being so close to the Bible Belt… and one dumb app undoes all that hard work.”

           Jack, frozen in his seat, stared at Dean with concern shining in his comically wide eyes. “What are you talking about, Dean?”

           “Look,” Dean said instead, his finger extending once more to point at the younger boy. It was a less accusatory gesture, softened by the gentle tone Dean adopted. “I know I haven’t been the best role model with… with that kind of stuff. Hell of a lot better than my dad was, though… still not the best. But I’ve been getting better, especially after I…” His words bottlenecked on his tongue, and through great effort did Dean spit them out. “After I admitted my own attraction to… to men, especially one man in particular…” Dean’s head felt like it might erupt, magma-like blood swelling his brain to dangerous sizes. “Cas.”

           “Yes, Dean,” Jack nodded, “I know that. I’m… I’m confused what any of that has to do with this?”

           “What it has to do with…? Jack…” Dean pinched his brow, tense shoulders collapsing as the strain became too much, muscles snapping like bridge cables. “I might not be the most… the most out, or the most proud, okay? But I’m trying. Remember that bi flag pin I wore during that hunt one time? That was me… trying. And I’ll keep trying, because this isn’t something I’m ashamed of.” He reached for Jack, ensnaring his wrist to make sure his message was well received. “So you see, being gay isn’t – it’s not annoying. It shouldn’t be hidden, or… banned and it certainly isn’t harmful despite what some repressed shitheads might think.” Emboldened, Dean levelled a disappointing glare at Jack. His lower lip jutted out in fatherly disapproval. “And I’d rather be staked on some piece of rusty rebar than let a stupid app make you homophobic. No more… Ticking-tock. Period.”

           While Jack might not appreciate Dean’s ultimatum now, he will later on in his life. Dean imagined a future where he and Jack, much older than they were in this moment, sat on a porch swing talking about how good a job Dean did raising him to be a decent human being, as Jack’s partner, whose features he couldn’t distinguish from such a distance in their front yard, played with their son, named for the man who set Jack on the right path, obviously. He was knocked out of this fantasy, unfortunately, by the lumbering footsteps of his oafish brother.

           Sam entered the kitchen, Cas at his side with a tome held open in his hands. Their conversation withered as they took in the scene they walked in on. “Hey,” Sam said, shuffling his way to them, “what’s going on?”

           Dean opened his mouth, about to explain that he was dishing some serious parental law and wisdom. Except Jack hurriedly interrupted, rushing to speak first. “I have no idea,” he told them, “I was explaining TikTok to Dean, and suddenly he starts ranting about how it’s a homophobic platform?”

           “Because it is!” Dean argued. He grabbed Jack’s phone, waving it at the others. “Jack told me that they’ve gone full Russia – banning mlms and… and it was brainwashing him, making him hate gay people!”

           “Dean! I don’t hate gay people –“

           “Because I acted before any of the damage actually managed to take root,” he said, “If you used this any longer you would’ve had more harsh things to say about mlms than they’re annoying.”

           Jack groaned, scrubbing his face with twitching fingers. “They are annoying!”

           Dean gestured at Jack, asking with exaggerated brows and frown lines, what they should do about Jack’s denigration. Sam, for his part, seemed unbothered by Jack’s callous attitude. “I mean,” he shrugged, “Jack’s not wrong. Mlms are… pretty annoying.”

           Betrayed, Dean staggered to his feet. He faltered visibly, enough that Cas rushed over, dropping the yellowed book he held, and offered a hand. Dean accepted it, leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder. The touch on the small of his back renewed his strength. “Sam,” he muttered, voice cracking, “how could you say that?”

           Sam mirrored the confusion noticeably present in Jack’s features. “Dean, why are you taking this so personally?”

           “Because, apparently,” Dean shouted at him, “you find me annoying!”

           “No more than I usually do,” Sam told Dean, “But that’s never bothered you before?”

           “Well, it’s pretty hard staying fucking unbothered when you think my sexuality is annoying.”

           “What?” Suddenly, something flashed behind Sam’s eyes, and the fog of bewilderment dissipated as pure rays of understanding shone from his smug expression and annoyingly struck Dean in the face. “Dean,” Sam sighed, “you… we’re not talking about gay people.”

           Dean snorted, “Of course you are. I’m not stupid.” Sam’s bitchy expression disagreed. “I’m hip, Sam. I know the lingo – better than you would, anyway… ‘ally’. Mlm… men loving men… What else could it be?”

           “Mlm is an acronym for multi-level marketing, Dean,” Sam explained, “that’s the kind of mlm we’ve been talking about this entire time.”

           “What?” Dean’s gaze bounced around the room, from Sam to Jack, then Cas, finally returning to Sam. “No, but I… the Internet, mlm is… it stands for…”

           “Things can have more than one meaning,” Cas supplied, appearing pained as he spoke, “especially acronyms.” He pressed a consolatory kiss upon Dean’s cheek, touch sparking a flame on his already burning skin. “It was nice to see how outspoken you’ve become, though.”

           “Yeah,” Sam agreed, “Like a modern-day Harvey Milk.”

           Dean refused to comment on Sam’s teasing, sinking into his seat again while his mind processed this new information. Cas joined him, continually rubbing soothing circles into his back. Sam sat next to Jack, across from them. Jack, sullenly tracing the cracks Dean made in his phone screen, asked, “Does this mean I’m not banned from TikTok?”

           “I just don’t get it,” Dean said, ignoring Jack’s question, “why would something that sounds boring like multi-level marketing even deserve its own acronym, let alone be banned from a whole app.”

           “Because it’s bad, Dean,” Sam explained, “multi-level marketing is, like, an evolved pyramid scheme, made more prevalent because of how easily social media disseminates misinformation and reaches impressionable people. Companies like TikTok are doing what they can to try and curb all these kinds of scams because, well… they’re annoying.”

           Adamant, Dean scowled and shook his head. “Mlm meaning that is what’s annoying.”

           “Too bad, Dean,” Sam said, “that’s probably the universally accepted meaning for it.”

           “No!” Dean said, “No, mlm is about gay people. It doesn’t have anything to do with scams.”

           Cas scoffed at Dean’s side, mumbling, “But what if scamming people is gay rights?”

           It was ridiculous, made in jest, and held no actual weight in a discussion, but Dean latched onto the throwaway line like it were the last life preserver on the Titanic. “You know what, Cas, you’re right!” he crowed, “Scamming is gay rights.”

           “It is?”

           “It should be,” Dean said, “I mean, do you know the number of times in my life I’ve scammed bigoted jerks for all they had? Scamming definitely feels like something that’s for gays only.”

           Sam rubbed his temples, battling an incoming migraine. “I don’t know why, but that take feels homophobic.”

           “Hush, Sam,” Cas told the other man, “I want to see where Dean goes with this.”

           Jack nodded, camera eclipsing his features. “Just let me hit record first, Dean. This could go viral.”

           Dean waited for the signal from Jack, a small thumbs up, and then he cleared his throat. “Okay, so here’s why scamming is a right for the gays and the gays alone…”