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wheresmynaya · 3 years

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Hate to Date Ch.5 | Brittana

A/N - Big shoutout to those who donated a coffee to me through ko-fi last week! It was a really nice treat that helped me stay somewhat sane during this lockdown (which hopefully only last a few more days).

Anyway, a longer chapter this week thanks to all the free time I have lol. Enjoy! 💙

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

When Santana awakes the next morning, it’s to the sound of distant laughter. It takes her a second to decided whether or not she’s actually awake, because that laughter? She’s pretty sure she knows who it belongs too and if that’s the case: What the fuck?

The last thing she’d expect is for Brittany to go rogue, but as she pushes herself to sit up she notices that the blanket Brittany stole from her last night has made its way back onto the bed.

Her pillow too!

In fact, with a glance around no one would be able to tell that they slept separately last night.

Santana hates to say it, but she’s just a little impressed.

When she finally makes her way downstairs, Santana finds that the record player has been broken out and the sounds of Donna Summer fills the air. As Santana gets closer to the source, she finds Brittany and Maribel standing around the kitchen counter dressed in aprons.

They don’t notice Santana at first, too busy concentrating on whatever pastries they’re working on. Brittany has her blonde hair tied up in a messy bun while Maribel wears her reading glasses, and together they knead small mounds of dough with their hands as they chat.

Santana watches with curious interest; she’s never seen her mom cook with anyone else Santana’s brought home. Usually her guests are a little hesitant to leave her side let alone abandon her altogether in favor of hanging out with her mom.

Suddenly her eavesdropping is interrupted by a swift poke to her ribs.

“Jesus!” Santana shrieks which instantly earns her another poke and a scowl. She rubs at her side as Abuela brushes past her. “You trying to give someone a heart attack?”

Upon Santana’s interruption, Maribel and Brittany look up to find her standing in the doorway. It only takes a moment before the blonde is slipping into her role of girlfriend again and making her way over while Abuela joins Maribel.

“Mornin’, Sleepyhead!” Brittany greets happily before a quick kiss is pressed to Santana’s cheek. “I thought you weren’t getting up until noon.”

“We’re not far from it,” Maribel notes with a nod to the clock.

Santana smiles apologetically as all eyes are on her, “Sorry. It must be the jetlag.”

Brittany chuckles, “There isn’t a time difference though.”

Santana doesn’t answer, just follows Brittany over to the counter where Abuela stands eyeing their handywork. She makes a few pinches to the dough here and another adjustment there, always ever so critical of the cooking being done.

“What’s going on here?” Santana asks.

“Just getting ready for tonight,” Maribel replies. “Lots to do, but Brittany offered to help us.”

“Oh really?” Santana glances to Brittany.

The blonde just shrugs, “I’m an early riser. I figured I’d make myself useful.”

“Unlike Santana,” Maribel smirks.

Brittany chuckles, “Yeah. It’s a struggle to get that one out of bed.”

While the pair laugh together, Santana wishes she could roll her eyes. After how they ended the night before, she wasn’t sure if Brittany was going to stay on top of her game but it seems like she’s more determined that ever. Santana didn’t think it would be at her expense though.

“Well that was nice of you to help out,” Santana compliments in favor of being snarky.

Brittany shrugs, “I just hope that mine don’t stick out like sore thumbs compared to Maribel’s.”

Santana glances to the counter and nods, “I’m sure they’ll turn out great.”

“They will,” Maribel assures. “You know Abuela watches everything that comes out of this kitchen like a hawk.”

There’s a small smile on Abuela’s lips before she goes back to stirring a pot of something on the stove. Santana notes the silence and wonders if Abuela has still yet to say a word to Brittany, but there’s no time to ask as Maribel tosses her an apron.

“You know the drill, Santana. If you’re going to be in here you better start working,” Maribel instructs with a sudden sternness.

“Mami,” Santana pouts. “Can’t I at least have a coffee first? I just woke up…”

Maribel tuts, “You and your father are so similar. Always needing coffee before doing anything. Why couldn’t you have taken after me instead?”

“Yes, an age old question,” Santana sighs as she looks to Brittany. “Have you eaten or did they just put you straight to work?”

Maribel cuts Santana with a glare while Brittany only chuckles to lighten to mood.

“I ate but I could go for a coffee.”

“Awesome,” Santana then tosses the apron aside and takes Brittany by the hand. “I’m stealing her and your car now. Be back later!”

Santana assumed Brittany would’ve willingly followed, but surprisingly Brittany looks back at her work with a look of hesitance. Would she really rather stay behind? Santana figured she’d be dying to break away for a little while, but apparently not?

“Will that be okay?” Brittany ends up asking. “I can continue helping when we come back?”

Santana’s eyes widen. What is she doing? Gunning for the perfect daughter award now too?

Maribel and Abuela share an unreadable look before nodding to Brittany.

“That’s okay, Brittany,” Maribel replies. “There’s more than enough left to be done.”

“Awesome,” Brittany bounces a little on her toes before leaving the kitchen.

Santana turns to follow after her when Maribel calls out to her. The sound of her being beckoned in that tone already has the hairs on the back of Santana’s neck standing on end.

“Yes?”

“You could learn a thing or two from her,” Maribel scolds. “When’s the last time you’ve offered to help around here before running off?”

Santana doesn’t have a response, just nods before she follows Brittany outside.

Once they’re in the car, Santana feels like a weight has been lifted. Even behind closed doors, they still have to maintain the act because walls are thin and you never know who might be walking by. However, being trapped alone together in the car is like the first real break since they got off the plane.

Despite the break though, the silence between them is heavy.

Santana’s gripping the steering wheel like her life depends on it with her eyes focused hard on the road while Brittany only stares out the window. The tension reminds Santana of last night and once again, the annoyance is back in full force.

They’re only in the car for five more minutes before Brittany speaks.

“Have I done something wrong?” She asks.

Santana blinks, breaking her staring contest with the road in favor of glancing to Brittany. The blonde has her brows furrowed and there’s a look of confusion on her face. It makes Santana feel ridiculous for being annoyed in the first place which annoys her even more.

“I don’t know,” Santana grumbles.

She can still feel Brittany’s eyes on her, burning holes into the side of her face but she can’t look at her anymore. Looking at her makes Santana feel irrational and she hates it because she doesn’t understand why that is.

“Is this about what Maribel said before?”

Santana clenches her jaw, but doesn’t answer. She didn’t think Brittany heard her, but apparently she did. Knowing that only makes Santana feel worse, but Brittany frowns and tries again.

“Is this about last night?”

“I said I don’t know,” Santana suddenly snaps.

Brittany purses her lips in thought as they fall even deeper into awkward tension. In reality, Santana really doesn’t know what she feels. She was never great at navigating her feelings let alone talking about them so Brittany’s badgering just puts her on edge.

“Well figure it out,” Brittany finally replies after a long pause. “I’m laying down some pretty solid ground work and I don’t want you messing it up with a mood swing or whatever is going on with you.”

Santana laughs bitterly, “Oh, that’s right! I forgot you’re apparently the World’s Greatest Girlfriend who can do no wrong.”

“What?” Brittany frowns. “Where is this coming from?”

Santana grits her teeth, “I have to deal with everyone thinking you’re so perfect on campus and now I have to deal with in here.”

“Isn’t that why you asked me to do this?” Brittany argues. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly giving me shit.”

Santana shakes her head, “Because I don’t understand why you always have to go above and beyond! You just kiss everyone’s ass and it’s so annoying!”

“You literally asked me to play this role, Santana. You asked me to be here,” Brittany replies. “You wanted this to be convincing so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah well, you don’t have to make me look like shit in the process.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Santana doesn’t answer, just focuses on the road.

“Here’s a thought, maybe you wouldn’t look so shit if you gave just an ounce of effort,” Brittany tells her. There’s a firmness to her tone that makes something within Santana rattle. “So what if I’m trying to bond with your family? You told me that’s what needed to be done! Don’t get mad at me because I’m actually trying. You want different results? Put in the work.”

“Okay fine, whatever,” Santana huffs as she pulls into the Starbucks drive-thru.

Brittany huffs to and crosses her arms. She’s a little red in the face – surely Santana’s doing – and it seems so out of place on the blonde. Santana’s been able to wind her up in the past, but she’s never seen Brittany look this visibly pissed. At least that’s one thing Santana doesn’t have a problem doing.

But the longer they sit in silence, Santana begins to reflect on her words.

It really wasn’t her best work, but she’s been known to struggle with shutting the hell up. Once she’s on a roll, it’s like she can’t back down. Whether she’s right or wrong, she’s got to have the last word.

Even now, she knows she was out of line coming at Brittany after she’s been nothing but great but there’s this little voice in her head – let’s call her Snixx – and Snixx likes to stir the pot. Snixx likes to encourage the anger and frustration inside Santana and Snixx doesn’t care how it effects anyone.

As they get closer to order, the guilt really starts to set in next.

That coupled with the heavy silence has Santana feeling like such an ass. Of course she can’t admit that she was an ass because like…pride but they can’t go back to the house with this weighing on them either.

There has to be something she can do, something she can say to ease the tension? Something that can break the ice?

“Did you want anything?” Santana asks in a meek voice.

Brittany’s a little hesitant to answer and at first Santana thinks she might be getting the silent treatment now, but then there’s a quiet sigh.

“Is this your way of saying you’re sorry for being a jerk?”

Santana rolls her eyes although she feels a blush setting in. Brittany looks at her like she’s completely transparent and it makes Santana want to run and hide. It’s like Brittany knows that Santana knows she messed up, so why be a dick about it?

Karma, Santana guesses.

“Do you want a drink or not?” Santana asks but her tone lacks the usual sass.

Brittany seems to notice, but she stares back challengingly anyway.

“Peppermint Mocha,” She finally answers.

“Okay.”

“With whipped cream.”

“Okay.”

“And peppermint sprinkles, not the chocolate shavings.”

Santana sighs, “Okay. Anything else?”

“And maybe one of those cake pop things.”

Santana can tell Brittany’s just messing with her now. If this is her way of apologizing then it’s only fair that Brittany orders whatever she wants.

“Is that all?” Santana asks.

Brittany ponders for a moment before nodding, “That’s all.”

“Okay,” Santana answers and goes on to relay their order to the cashier.

Once they’ve got their drinks and snacks, Santana parks the car in a spot that overlooks the busy road. They mostly sit in silence; Santana nibbles on her panini while Brittany sips on her drink. The radio is on so there’s at least something to fill the void, but Santana doesn’t really find much joy in repetitive Christmas music.

As she changes the station, Brittany frowns.

“I was listening to that,” She says as she changes it back.

Santana matches her expression, “You like this?”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s depressing.”

Brittany gives her a look, “How?”

“Bells will be ringin' the sad, sad news,” Santana belts out suddenly.

Brittany starts to smile, “Okay of all the Christmas songs –“

Santana sings over her, “Oh, what a Christmas to have the blues.”

“I don’t think this is the best representation of – “

“My baby's gone. I have no friends. To wish me greetings once again!”

This time Brittany doesn’t interject; she can’t because Santana’s singing overpowers her. There’s a little smug grin beginning to form on Santana’s face as she finishes on the last note though.

“See?” She says in a normal voice. “Depressing as hell.”

Brittany chuckles, “Okay. That one was depressing, but can we talk about the elf in the room?”

“That I’ve got a killer voice?”

“Not that,” Brittany waves her off.

“Uh rude.”

“I mean, it’s alright,” Brittany smirks, “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you knew the lyrics to that song by heart?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “My dad travelled for work a lot when I was younger. He was almost never home for Christmas so take a lucky guess which two songs my mom constantly had on repeat.”

“Rough,” Brittany replies.

“Yeah,” Santana nods. “The holidays are overrated.”

“Okay Scrooge,” Brittany jokes.

“It’s true! It’s just party after party and everyone’s suddenly all about joy and world peace or whatever. Don’t even get me started on the headache that is Christmas shopping. It’s all a nightmare because the Lopez clan is huge and they all need gifts.”

While Santana rambles Brittany only stares down at her coffee in thought, her finger tracing the lid in slow circles.

“But hanging out with your family,” Brittany mentions. “Having them all in one place every year, that’s kind of nice?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t remember the last time mine were together like that. I’m not really that close with my family.”

“Lucky you,” Santana jokes.

“Yeah,” Brittany says quietly which causes Santana’s smile to drop.

She remembers how she spent this year’s Christmas – alone at home with a bottle of wine and Netflix – and how much of a welcomed break it was from the usual festivities. Santana loved the alone time, but Brittany? She remembers her saying she’d still be on campus and it makes her wonder how she spent the day too or more importantly, why she didn’t return home like everyone else?

Santana doesn’t ask though, unsure if that’s a line she’s willing to cross.

“Well, you’ll get your fix tonight,” Santana tries joking again. “Like I said, the Lopez clan is huge. They’ll be changing your tune, just give them an hour.”

Brittany smiles but it isn’t as bright as it usually is.

Once they get back to Maribel’s, Brittany joins Maribel and Abuela in cooking once again. Santana’s a little reluctant but she tags along too, remembering what Brittany said before about effort and Maribel’s final words about learning something from the girl.

Santana already has to deal with Brittany always one-upping her on campus – she doesn’t need it at home too. So although there are other things she’d much rather be doing, she sits alongside the three of them. They talk about Santana and Brittany’s studies, the assignment they’re working on together while throwing in little details about how their relationship progressed.

“Don’t you all need to get ready?” Eddie interrupts the chatter with a confused look on his face.

Neither of them realize it, but they’ve ended up spending the entire afternoon chatting. It’s not something Santana usually does, but it surprisingly wasn’t all that painful since conversation didn’t solely consist of dissecting her love life. Maybe having a fake girlfriend by her side is something she should’ve done a long time ago?

“Oh! You’re right. We better get ready,” Maribel mentions once she sees the time. “Everyone should be arriving within the next hour or so.”

“As if anyone shows up on time,” Santana jokes.

Maribel gives her a look before turning to Eddie, “Do you mind bringing out the extra chairs?”

“Already done,” He grins. “I can finish up here. You all go.”

Santana doesn’t have to be told twice before she and Brittany head upstairs.

Similar to last night, Santana and Brittany move quietly around each other like a well-rehearsed dance. Brittany parks herself in front of Santana’s bedroom mirror with her makeup bag while Santana heads to the bathroom to get changed into something a little more formal.

Once Santana finishes up awhile later, she rejoins Brittany in her room where she finds her lounging on the bed scrolling through her phone.

“Finally,” Brittany comments while Santana closes the door behind her.

“Perfection takes time,” Santana quips. “I see you packed a New Year’s Eve sweater. Didn’t know those were a thing.”

Brittany snorts as she prepares to dish out a comeback, but Santana’s surprised that it never comes. Instead, the annoyance shifts as Brittany looks at her for the first time.

“Oh, you’re dressed so...”

Santana frowns at the possible implications before checking herself out in the stand up mirror. It’s her usual attire for these kind of events – long sleeves to counter the short hem that someone’s bound to scold her about, knit for the cold because it’s ballsy to have her legs on display in this temperature, and deep red because she looks best in that color.

When Santana turns back to Brittany to ask what the problem is, the blonde is tugging at her sweater and glancing at her skirt.

“Should I change?” Brittany asks shyly. “I feel kind of underdressed compared to you.”

Santana softens upon hearing the unexpected tone. It’s not like Brittany’s showing up in ripped jeans and a hoodie, so Santana’s not sure where the concern is coming from.

“No you’re fine,” Santana ends up assuring her with a shake of her head, “I like your boots.”

“Oh,” Brittany sticks out her boot to show it off a little more. “I have them in black too, they were on sale.”

“Love me a good deal,” Santana jokes.

“Me too.”

Brittany then goes to stand, eyeing Santana’s dress before looking down at her sweater again.

“You sure this is okay though?” Brittany asks. “I don’t want your entire family thinking I don’t clean up well.”

Santana sighs, “As much as I’d love to lie to you so that I can listen to everyone bag on your fashion choices, that wouldn’t really benefit me. When you look good, I look good.”

Brittany’s brows furrow with confusion, “You’re not really good at giving fashion advice.”

Santana rolls her eyes, “I’m not used to someone asking, that’s why.”

Brittany frowns and it has Santana softening again.

“You look good,” Santana tells her. “I’m sure someone’s going to think you look very cute in your sweater. It’s bound to get loads of compliments tonight.”

Brittany mulls over Santana’s words for a moment before nodding.

“Was that better?”

Brittany nods again, “Yup.”

“Okay great,” Santana looks back at herself in the mirror and tussles her hair. “Are you ready to get down there now?”

Brittany sucks in a deep breath, “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

As soon as the new couple makes their appearance, they’re bombarded by several family members. There are compliments all around, cheek-pinches, tight hugs and lots of congratulating. If Santana didn’t know any better, she’d think that someone told them that she and Brittany are newly engaged judging by the swarm.

Then again, Maribel’s probably told them that Brittany and Santana have been dating for weeks now which is way longer than any other relationship Santana’s had. Gossip in her family travels very fast, especially when it’s about her.

Any other girl Santana has brought home would’ve caved under the attention Santana’s aunts and cousins are giving them, but Brittany surprisingly does well. She remains kind and polite as introductions are reeled off and once again Santana finds herself being a little impressed.

Awhile later, Brittany’s seated in an arm chair surrounded by some of Santana’s aunts while Santana watches from afar as she gets them both a drink. She can hear Brittany’s laughter, much like she did that morning, and wonders what’s so funny. The aunts that she’s with are some of the older, more gossipy ones so they can’t be that hilarious.

“I see Brittany’s getting along well with everyone,” Maribel notes as she comes up beside Santana.

“I told you she’s pretty charismatic,” Santana answers.

“Uh-huh,” Maribel hums and turns to Santana. “There’s something different about her.”

Santana attempts to keep her cool, not wanting to give away how Maribel’s comment makes her feel uneasy.

“I know,” She replies before it because suspicious. “I think that’s why we work so well together.”

Maribel nods, “Opposites attract.”

“That’s what they tell me,” Santana answers.

“Hmm,” Maribel turns to start pouring herself a drink. “You know Maria’s here.”

“Who’s Maria?”

Maribel frowns, “My friend? I set you up with her daughter?”

Santana instantly cringes, “Oh please don’t tell me Francesca is here too? I don’t need that kind of drama in my life.”

Maribel chuckles, “She’s not here.”

“Thank God.”

“Does Brittany know about that?”

Santana quirks a brow, “Does she know about you setting me up on blind dates against my will?”

Maribel’s expression hardens.

“No,” Santana answers. “That’s not something I wanted to explain to her considering it was super embarrassing. Our relationship was new anyway, I didn’t want to scare her off.”

“I see,” Maribel replies. “I guess it ended up working out anyway.”

“It did,” Santana says as she looks back to Brittany who’s admiring one of the aunt’s wedding ring. “See what happens when you don’t meddle in my love life?”

Maribel just swats at Santana’s shoulder. “I didn’t meddle. It was just a little guidance.”

“Okay Mami,” Santana laughs before heading over to Brittany.

Blue eyes flicker to meet hers once Santana gets close enough. They’re unreadable as Santana perches on the arm of Brittany’s chair. She leans down, her lips close to Brittany’s cheek.

“Let me know when you want a break,” Santana discreetly whispers before handing her a glass of wine.

Brittany smiles in thanks, “It’s not so bad. They’re way more interesting than my family and the food’s a whole lot better too. And you’re right, everyone loves my sweater!”

Santana chuckles and goes to sip her drink while Brittany jumps back into the conversation happening around them. The more she drinks, the less concerned about every little movement they make, the less worry she feels about what everyone’s thinking and if they’re believing this act.

As they get closer to midnight, Santana loosens up more.

When Brittany leans back a little and slides an arm around Santana’s hips, she barely flinches. She actually leans into it, moving to play with the tips of Brittany’s softly tussled hair while the blonde tells the aunts about some reality show they all watch.

Santana’s not really listening, all the voices in the room and everything happening is all a blur. Not because she has a slight buzz going, but because this is what happens every family gathering. The aunts gather and gossip, the uncles drink and talk about business, the younger cousins run around, the older ones seclude themselves to one room where they sit on their phones and Maribel and Alma pump out dish after dish making sure everyone’s fed.

Usually Santana would’ve snuck out to the garage with her date by now for a quickie or at the very least a steamy make out session, but she finds herself in a very different position this time. She has to pretend like she knows anything about a long lasting relationship or any relationship really that doesn’t revolve around sex which is a new concept for her.

“Well look who it is!”

Suddenly another one of Santana’s cousins makes their presence known in a flashy wave of their arms. Santana knows the voice before she sees who it is, but Brittany’s looking up at her in confusion.

“Who’s she?”

“My super spoiled cousin,” Santana quips as the girl steps closer.

“I’m one of many, but the only one that matters the most.”

Santana rolls her eyes and glances to Brittany, “See what I mean?”

“Hi,” She greets with her hand out. “Sugar.”

“Hey,” Brittany replies as she takes the girl’s hand. “Sweetheart?”

Sugar’s eyes narrow while Brittany looks back innocently.

“Sugar’s her name,” Santana supplies.

Brittany blushes, “Oh!”

“It’s actually a nickname,” Sugar corrects.

“It’s not,” Santana laughs and turns to Brittany. “My uncle was totally high when he thought of it.”

“He was not!” Sugar huffs. “That’s just a rumor which he put to rest years ago.”

“Not a rumor,” Santana whispers to Brittany.

“Anyway,” Sugar rolls her eyes in a similar fashion as Santana before looking to the blonde. “You must be Brittany. The serious girlfriend everyone won’t stop talking about.”

Brittany glances up at Santana then back to Sugar, “That’s me. Hope it’s all good things you’ve been hearing or this would be super awkward.”

“Oh they’re super good things!” Sugar replies enthusiastically before moving to sit across from them. The aunts that were there have moved on to the kitchen, but Santana’s sure it’s because they can’t stand Sugar either.

“Of course they’re good,” Santana says as she drapes her arm around Brittany’s shoulders for a cuddle.

“I kind of find it suspicious,” Sugar tells them simply.

“What?” Brittany and Santana say in unison.

“You seem nice,” Sugar says to Brittany. “Relatively normal and a lot less trashy than the usual Santana brings around.”

“Nice Sugar,” Santana scoffs. “Talk to my current girlfriend about my past relationships.”

Sugar waves her off, “I’d hardly call them that.”

Brittany catches Sugar’s hand and gasps, “Wow, that’s a nice ring!”

Santana looks to her, amazed by the smooth distraction.

“Isn’t it?” Sugar beams at the engagement ring on her finger. “It weighs a ton!”

“Looks like it,” Brittany smiles before sitting back. “Is your fiancé here?””

“Yeah. Where is Mr. Moneybags?” Santana wonders as she eyes the room.

“Don’t call him that and he’s working.”

“Oh, what does he do?” Brittany asks in attempt to keep the spotlight off of them and on Sugar instead.

Santana scoffs, “I don’t know if I’d consider getting high on your own supply working.”

Brittany looks to Santana curiously.

“Brett’s a stoner,” Santana tells her.

Sugar swats at her cousin’s arm, “He’s not! He’s actually the nation’s leading cannabis connoisseur and he takes his work very seriously.”

“Of course he does,” Santana winks before mouthing to Brittany. “He’s a stoner.”

“I saw that,” Sugar frowns before turning to Brittany. “There’s a lot more to the job than you’d think. You know he’s recently signed a deal with Bobby Flay to collaborate on a new cookbook? He’s basically a ginger Snoop Dog.”

“So he raps too?” Brittany asks innocently.

“Well, no,” Sugar replies. “But that might come later down the line.”

“God, I don’t think anyone needs to hear that man rap,” Santana laughs. “And Bobby Flay? Is he still relevant?”

Sugar rolls her eyes and goes to admire her ring, “I don’t ask questions. I just cash checks.”

“Wow,” Brittany says. “Well, I can’t wait to meet him.”

Sugar smiles appreciatively.

“I still can’t believe your dad is okay with you marrying this guy,” Santana jokes. “My mom would lose it.”

Sugar shrugs, “You know daddy, everything’s a future business venture. Anything to boost the Motta name.”

A realization hits Brittany, “Wait…Motta? As in the infamous Motta Pianos drug scandal?“

“Different Motta,” Sugar abruptly says. “At least that’s what daddy told me.”

Brittany looks to Santana skeptically but Santana just shrugs.

“Well,” Santana glances at the time. “Hopefully he turns up soon.”

Sugar rolls her eyes, “He promised he’d be here in time for midnight and he never breaks his promise.”

“So, so romantic,” Santana teases.

Sugar waves her off again, “You wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

“I don’t know,” Brittany pipes in. “Santana’s pretty romantic when she puts her mind to it.”

Santana’s brows rise, same as Sugar’s.

“Really?” Sugar questions.

Brittany nods, “Believe me, it caught me by surprise too but she’s got a sweet side to her. It’s one of the many things I like about her.”

Santana finds her ego getting a good boost even if the compliment is made up.

“Santana’s a total teddy bear underneath her hard exterior,” Brittany adds as she smiles adoringly.

Sugar doesn’t look too convinced though, “Why can’t I picture that?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “Probably because no one has ever made me feel the way Brittany has. She makes me want to do things different, things I wouldn’t do with anyone else. She makes me want to slow down.”

That seemed to resonate a little more with Sugar while Brittany squeezes at Santana’s thigh and coos.

“Oh honeybunch,” Brittany goes to pinch her cheek. “You know, just the other week Santana surprised me with a candle-lit dinner.”

“I did?” Santana accidentally blurts. Brittany gives her a pointed look and Santana quickly changes her tone, “That’s right, I did.”

Sugar looks between the two suspiciously.

“You should’ve seen it, Sugar,” Brittany says. “It was the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me, a little cliché but I loved it. There were rose petals and jazz and Santana cooked this beautiful meal. It was totally unexpected.”

Sugar blinks and looks to Santana, “You did that?”

Santana masks her slight surprise and sells it, “Anything for my girl.”

“I don’t know,” Sugar looks at them skeptically. “You don’t do romance. You hate it.”

“I-I don’t hate it…”

“You do, you’ve specifically told me on numerous occasions that romance is for suckers.”

Santana smiles nervously at Brittany, but the blonde is quick to dispute Santana’s previous stance.

“Well, she’s definitely changed her stance,” Brittany says lovingly. “Show her the pictures.”

Santana looks back at her wondering if she forgot that they just made up this entire romantic moment on the spot and they’re aren’t any pictures. She of course can’t ask her so she has to be crafty.

“I don’t have any,” Santana thinks on her feet too. “I mean, I don’t have any that I could show her. Those pictures are for us.”

“Oh! That’s right,” Brittany goes along with it. “We just couldn’t help ourselves. We didn’t even eat until hours later.”

“Oh no, we ate.”

“Gross,” Sugar scrunches her nose. “Nevermind, this sounds accurate now.”

Santana laughs, “You should’ve been there. Actually, maybe not because there was a lot going on.”

Sugar starts to grimace again, “Please stop.”

“Brittany practically jumped me.”

“Did I?” Brittany challenges. “I recall you were the one doing the – “

“Okay, way too much info!” Sugar quickly interrupts.

“Sorry. Anyway, it was very pretty,” Brittany says.

“Probably some of my best work,” Santana adds.

Brittany agrees and goes to kiss Santana on the cheek, “You’re the sweetest.”

“You hear that?” Santana quips at Sugar. “I’m the sweetest.”

Sugar eyes the both of them as she sits back. “Shit. I guess this really is serious.”

After their talk with Sugar, Santana and Brittany move about the other guests and mingle. By now, Brittany’s met most of Santana’s family and so far everyone seems to like her. Santana knows from past experience that it’s still too soon to tell though, but Brittany seems to be holding up a lot better than she expected.

“For the lovebirds,” Sugar says as she waltzes over with a couple party crowns and hands them off.

“Nice!” Brittany grins happily and puts on the crown with ease.

Santana sighs, “These are so lame.”

“I’ll tell your mom you said that,” Sugar quips.

“Snitch.”

“Grump.”

“I like them,” Brittany interrupts with a flick at the crown, the new year in bulky, sparkly numbers. “I feel very festive.”

“Aren’t they? And they match your sweater which is super cute by the way,” Sugar compliments before looking to Santana. “I still don’t understand she’s with you.”

“You don’t need to,” Santana tells her before sliding her out the way in favor of standing closer to Brittany. “We should get our bubbles now. I see Abuela walking around with them.”

“There’s bubbles here too?” Brittany asks in surprise. “You guys really go all out!”

“I’m talking about champagne,” Santana replies with a smirk. “Come on.”

They leave Sugar once again and make their way over. Abuela’s returned to a small table lined with champagne flutes and holds a bottle of something expensive in her hands.

“Need a hand?” Brittany asks, ever so helpful.

Abuela looks between them and shakes her head before speaking to Santana, once again in Spanish only. Santana finds herself feeling a little annoyed by Abuela’s behavior, but she only listens and nods. She’s not trying to pick a fight and Abuela knows how to cause a scene.

Meanwhile Brittany looks away, attempting to mask the dejection.

“I said I understand,” Santana suddenly says. She softens when she realizes her tone and quietly takes the two flutes Abuela holds out for her and Brittany.

“Thanks,” Brittany says softly as Santana leads the way elsewhere. It takes her a moment before she asks, “What was that about?”

Santana shakes her head, “She’s just being petty.”

“Oh,” Brittany goes to take a sip of her champagne. “Is it me?”

“It’s not.”

“Are you sure? I’ve been trying to bond with her but the language barrier makes it a little hard. I didn’t know that she doesn’t speak English.”

Santana shakes her head, “Oh no, she does. She’s just fucking with you.”

“Wait what?” Brittany looks to Abuela in disbelief. “Why would she do that?”

“Like I said, she’s petty.”

Brittany looks back at her, wanting more information.

“She doesn’t think you’ll last,” Santana clarifies. “She’s tired of spending the time to learn someone new just to never see them again so…she’s just not going to do it this time. She’s not going to try.”

Brittany frowns and Santana actually feels a little bad about being so truthful. Her abuela is as stubborn as they come, so Brittany shouldn’t really take it that personally but the look on her face tells Santana she’s a little too late.

“Look, who cares what she thinks,” Santana reasons. “The person we really need to focus on convincing is my mom.”

Brittany nods, “Okay. Right.”

“Yeah, so don’t mind her,” Santana says and clinks Brittany’s flute with her own. “Drink up, I’m winning.”

“It’s always a competition with you,” Brittany smirks before taking another sip.

For the next hour, they snack on all the various dishes and continue drinking until Eddie announces that they’re fifteen minutes away from ringing in the new year. Most of the guests have on some type of party hat or party glasses and Eddie goes to turn on the live stream of Times Square Ball Drop while flutes are topped up.

Santana and Brittany join the others as everyone migrates to the living room, everyone awaiting the screen to fill with the countdown.

“Do you have a resolution in mind?” Brittany asks.

Santana glances to her at the unexpected question, but Brittany’s eyes are focused on the screen before them.

Santana’s never been one to make a resolution because she doubts she’d ever commit to actually keeping it. However, for the sake of answering Brittany she thinks about it. Most resolutions are about losing weight or getting fit which doesn’t apply to her because she’s already got a smoking hot bod. Other popular resolutions relate to a career – which she doesn’t have yet – or her love life – which is set since she already has a fake girlfriend.

At a loss for an answer, Santana shrugs.

“I don’t think so,” She says. “How about you?”

Brittany shrugs too, “I don’t think I know yet either. Maybe travel more or learn a language? Something like that.”

Santana nods, “Well I can definitely help with the travelling one. Thank God I’ve got access to my dad’s frequent flyer miles.”

Brittany chuckles before they’re interrupted by Santana’s family beginning to count down the last minute before the new year. Santana laughs at their enthusiasm while Brittany joins in, shouting just as loud as everyone else. The walls are practically rattling as everyone counts down together.

“5…4…3…2…1!”

“Happy New Year,” Brittany tells Santana in a much calmer voice.

Santana replies, “Happy New Year.”

There’s suddenly an awkward tension between them because couples around are kissing each other, family members hug, meanwhile they just stand there not moving a muscle. Santana tries to relieve the tension before anyone notices and quickly kisses Brittany’s cheek.

“The cheek?” Sugar points out.

She’s hanging off her fiancé Brett – who really did turn up in time – and there’s a look of pure judgement on her face. She’s also drunk as hell, but Santana tenses at being called out anyway.

“Woah. Chill babe,” Brett tells her coolly.

“You saw that right?” Sugar asks him.

“See what?”

“Honestly, Brett!”

The louder she gets, the more attention is pointed their way and it makes Santana feel even more antsy. Maybe this is it? Maybe this where they get found out? Santana can’t say they’re not into PDA because that’s so not her so what other excuse could there be?

“Just do it,” Brittany whispers suddenly.

Santana looks at her in surprise while Sugar’s wrapped up Brett trying to feed her a glass of water. She can’t have a whole debate with Brittany right now, she can’t point out that they’ve yet to kiss each other anywhere else besides the cheek, she can’t opt for a different way out because the blonde is already pulling her in.

Brittany’s hand cradles Santana’s cheek while the other falls to her waist. It’s hard for Santana to stay in character because she really didn’t anticipate having to do something like this in front of everyone – which is pretty silly considering it’s New Year’s Eve and people usually kiss their partners.

God, why didn’t she think of this?!

There’s no time to beat herself up about it though. She braces herself, giving Brittany total control for the first time.

The last thing she sees is piercing blue eyes flickering between hers before they flutter shut.

The next thing she feels are the soft lips pressing into hers with a kind of gentleness that she isn’t used to. What Santana’s used to is hard and fast, all teeth and an insatiable need – not this…tenderness.

Then just as fast as it happened, it’s over.

Brittany pulls away, blinking slowly while Santana does the same. There’s a split second where those around them cheer – even Sugar – but Santana doesn’t really hear it. She’s too busy staring at Brittany, still in complete disbelief that she just did that.

She just kissed her.

Once the novelty wears off, everyone goes back to mingling with each other around the house while Santana and Brittany stay put.

“I’m surprised I didn’t throw up,” Brittany comments lowly.

Santana’s taken aback by the comment and snorts, “I’m a little nauseous if I’m being honest.”

“Oh really?”

“It was a real struggle for me.”

Brittany snorts this time, “How do you think I feel? I thought you were meant to be the experienced one, but kissing you was like kissing a wall – you didn’t even move!”

“I was clearly taken by surprise…”

“Bullshit. I gave you a signal.”

“What?” Santana laughs, “What signal?”

“The look,” Brittany recreates a stare that doesn’t really give Santana much.

“Was that it?”

“Yes!”

“It’s not a very good signal.”

Brittany rolls her eyes, “Seriously though…that was a close one.”

“Very,” Santana agrees.

Santana and Brittany hang around downstairs awhile longer before guests begin to head home for the night. With a late morning flight the next day, Santana and Brittany retreat to Santana’s room too to get ready for bed.

Again, they do their familiar dance of taking turns in the bathroom and getting changed into their pajamas in private until they find themselves standing in front of the bed. Santana glances to Brittany, seeing if she’ll be setting up the makeshift bed again.

She gets her answer when Brittany reaches for a couple pillows and starts pulling off the comforter.

“Really?” Santana jokes as she plops down on the bed. “Can I at least get another pillow?”

Brittany shakes her head as she builds her nest of cushions and blankets.

“You’re up there and I’m down here on the floor,” Brittany replies. “Who needs more pillows?”

“You chose to be down there.”

“Because I’m not getting in a bed with you.”

“So you’ve said a million times,” Santana replies as she gets comfortable under the covers.

“Well get used to it because it’s not happening,” Brittany tells her. “Ever.”

“You know, you’re probably the first person that has said that to me?”

Brittany snorts, “With your reputation, I believe it.”

Santana’s jaw drops a little, “Ouch.”

Brittany pokes her head up from the end of the bed, “Don’t act like your feelings are hurt.”

Santana raises her chin, “They’re not.”

Brittany eyes her before sinking back down. Once she’s out of sight, Santana slumps wondering why the brunt of how everyone views her actually relies on other people. Her mom and Abuela, even Brittany, don’t see her for her but instead the people she surrounds herself with.

It starts to really set in that her accomplishments, her fantastic grades, her near perfect GPA don’t seem to mean much when she has the kind of reputation she does. Does no one see how ridiculous that is? It’s her personal life, so what if she doesn’t want to be tied down?

She can understand her mom and abuela taking that stance, because they’re old school but Brittany too? Not that she cares about her opinion, but she figured she’d have a different point of view considering she wasn’t raised in the dark ages.

Apparently though, it doesn’t matter and the frustration she feels upon the realization keeps her up for another hour or so before she finally tires herself out.

Despite the late night, Santana awakes earlier than usual. She finds that even Brittany’s still asleep before she quietly sneaks out of the room and heads downstairs. She can hear Maribel in the kitchen and the smell of fresh coffee fills the air.

“This is a sight,” Maribel notes from her spot at the counter.

Santana just grunts and scuffles her way over to the coffee pot where a mug awaits her.

“Hungry? I’ll make some breakfast soon.”

Santana shakes her head, “This will be okay for now.”

Maribel hums and together they sit at the counter and sip their coffees in silence. Santana’s slowly starting to feel like a person again as the brew goes down, but Maribel doesn’t let the silence stick around.

“So Brittany,” She says.

Santana’s brows rise as she glances to her mom. She couldn’t even last five minutes without bringing up her relationship.

“I think she’s really lovely,” Maribel admits. “Not the usual kind of girl you bring home, but it’s a nice change. A welcomed change.”

Santana nods, biting her cheek in the process because those feelings she fell asleep to are still strong. The last thing she wants to talk or even think about is how happy Maribel is with Santana solely because she with Brittany now. Yes, that’s the point but it still.

“I just hope that she’ll stick around a little longer,” Maribel adds.

“She will,” Santana answers resolutely.

Maribel only sips from her mug slowly.

A few hours later, Santana and Brittany are on their flight back to campus.

Like the first flight over, Brittany’s tense until they get to cruising altitude and she can busy herself with homework.

Santana on the other hand keeps her earbuds in and tries tuning out the world. Unlike before, Santana doesn’t have any interest in helping Brittany cope with her dislike for flying. She just wants to listen to her music and disappear in a bag of gummy bears after an exhausting past couple of days.

Not that they were physically exhausting, but try pretending to be into someone as annoying as Brittany. It’s a lot of work, especially for Santana, and she’s just about hit her breaking point.

She does pretty well in holding everything inside until Brittany leans over the arm rest that separates them, breaching her personal bubble. Her hand is going for Santana’s bag of gummies and like a spoiled toddler Santana jolts the bag away before Brittany can reach it.

“Can I help you?” Santana snaps.

Brittany frowns, “Are you really not going to share?”

“These aren’t for you.”

“What happened to what’s mine is yours?”

Santana gives her a look, “We’re not married. We’re barely even dating.”

Brittany’s frown deepens and the way she stares makes Santana focus hard on the bag in her hands. But even when she avoids eye contact, Santana can still feel the judgmental glare.

“Can you stop staring at me?”

Brittany huffs, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Then what’s your problem with me?”

Santana scoffs, “That’s a pretty loaded question.”

“Well, answer it because I’m sick of the attitude.”

For Santana, those words are like lighting a firecracker within her.

“You wanna know what my problem is?” She snaps. “Ever since you transferred to Columbia you have been nothing but a pain in my ass.”

“What? You can’t be serious.”

“It’s like you’ve made it your mission in life to one up me every chance you get,” Santana tells her. “I used to have the highest GPA and I was on track to be valedictorian until you came along. You know how it feels to work your ass off to get to where I am only for it to be taken away? A second time? I bet you don’t.”

Brittany slumps in her seat, “I-I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Santana doesn’t hear her reasoning. The floodgates within her have been blown wide open.

“Not to mention your head is so far up Professor Martinez’s ass you might as well wear it as a hat!”

Brittany stiffens, “You don’t know a thing about me, Santana.”

“Please,” Santana scoffs. “I know your type. Pretty, blonde and smart? You’re the epitome of privilege.”

Brittany’s jaw drops but she quickly grits her teeth, “And what about you? Hot-headed Latina with a chip on her shoulder because she was probably burned by someone like me in the past?”

Santana’s taken aback, but there’s no way she’s going to waver in front of Brittany. It doesn’t seem to matter though, because Brittany sees the crack in Santana’s façade.

“See? I can stereotype too,” Brittany tells her upon the silence.

Santana shakes her head, “I don’t need this.”

“There you go quitting again,” Brittany points out. “Probably a result of this girl. God, she really must’ve done a number on you. Makes sense why you can’t commit to anything.”

“Why are you so sure there’s a girl?”

“There’s always a girl.”

Santana feels like she’s beneath a microscope, but she looks back at Brittany challengingly.

“Well congrats, Brittany. You’ve got me all figured out. Great job,” Santana replies, her words full of sarcasm.

Brittany shakes her head, “You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“You’re afraid,” Brittany tells her simply. “And it’s so obvious. You’re afraid of commitment. You’re afraid of opening up. You’re afraid of your own mother because if you weren’t we wouldn’t be in this mess. You wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Santana bites her cheek even though Brittany’s words really struck a nerve within her. She can’t react though, she can’t let Brittany know that she has successfully landed a blow. So Santana does what she does best and retreats.

“You’re lucky we’re stuck on this stupid plane together because the moment it lands, that’s it,” Santana tells her. “This is over. I’m done. I don’t care about the job or what my mother thinks. It’s not worth the headache of being stuck with you in this stupid relationship!”

“Good!”

“Fine!”

“Great!”

The two of them practically huff and cross their arms, turning away from each other since they can’t stomp off for dramatic effect. The silence is heavy and thick though and it only intensifies the longer it weighs down on them.

Santana knows she might blowing things out of proportion, they both might be guilty of that, but how else was she meant to react? In reality, she knows she can’t give up this easily. They’ve already laid down the ground work, she can’t let it be for nothing.

Swallowing pride has never been something Santana’s particularly good at doing, but she needs to figure it out before their plane touches down. She just hopes that whatever the reason might be that Brittany’s doing this is enough for her to give this a second try.

“Look,” Santana says timidly a long while later. “I’m sorry for how I acted.”

Brittany glances to her but doesn’t say a word.

“I know I can be a bitch sometimes and it’s something that I struggle with,” Santana admits. “But from now on, I can try to be less of a bitch to you. That is if you want to keep doing this, because as much as I hate to admit it – I can’t do this without you.”

Brittany mulls it over before nodding, “That was a much better apology.”

Santana’s smiles back in relief. There’s a somewhat more relaxed quiet, but it doesn’t last very long.

“I’m sorry for what I said before,” She says. “About you being afraid. That wasn’t very nice.”

Santana smirks, “Honestly, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Yeah,” Brittany sighs. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t even know if there is a girl. I guess I was on a roll, being around you really brings it out of me I think.”

Santana chuckles lightly, “Well…there was a girl so you weren’t entirely wrong.”

Brittany turns to her with brows raised, but Santana keeps her eyes averted elsewhere.

“Well, while we’re on the topic of not being wrong,” Brittany pauses. “I am a little bit of a kiss-ass in Professor Martinez’s class.”

“I knew it.”

“I just never had a teacher like him, okay? I might’ve gotten a little excited about it.”

“A little?”

“What?” Brittany replies timidly. “It’s nice to be praised for thinking outside of the box rather than being punished for not staying in it.”

Santana quirks her brow at that.

“For once, being different is seen as something good,” Brittany continues. “You have no idea what it’s like to be belittled, to be seen as this dumb blonde for so long just because my brain worked differently, to be pushed aside because no one thought I’d amount to anything.”

“But you said you went to MIT,” Santana replies. “Unless you were just saying that to impress my mom?”

“No, that was true,” Brittany nods. “MIT was where I realized I was gifted. It was like I went from one extreme to another. I went from no one caring to suddenly everyone caring. They didn’t care about me though, they cared about what I could do for them.”

Santana stays quiet and listens. She’s not familiar with this side of Brittany and if she’s being honest it’s kind of eye-opening.

“I didn’t know,” Santana replies softly.

“Most people don’t. I’ve had a lot of people just…give up on me,” Brittany tells her in a sigh. “You have no idea what that feels like, to be left behind.”

“Yeah,” Santana frowns as Brittany’s words strike a chord, “I kind of do.”

That takes Brittany by surprise, “Really?”

“Maybe not the same context but I definitely know the feeling,” Santana replies then holds out her bag of gummies to share. There’s a kind smile on her face for once as she says, “It sucks.”

Brittany looks down at the bag and smirks before she takes a couple pieces and pops them into her mouth.

“You know,” She says as she chews. “I kind of hate that we have this much in common.”

Santana chuckles, “Me too.”

#Hate to date #Brittana #Brittana fanfiction #Enemies to Lovers #Fake Dating AU

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rpbetter · 3 years

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a vent (feel free to ignore if it's too much!): so recently i've noticed psd makers getting anon asks on whether they're ok with people who write certain topics (mostly rpf, incest, rape, underage, the usual "problematic" topics) using their recourses. now, i don't roleplay any of these subjects on tumblr, so even if a content creator said not to use their stuff, it's not even something i need to worry about - but, and maybe this is me overthinking it, what if i, someday, write a noncon fanfic on ao3? i'm still not using their resources on the subject or writing it on tumblr, but i'd probably feel weird about it, like i'm crossing some boundary. what if a psd maker whose content i've already purchased suddenly goes "actually don't use my psds if you rp abusive relationships", which is probably the closest to what people consider "taboo themes" of the things that i roleplay. it just feels like a fine line between personal boundaries and a shitty situation for a customer - not wanting to cross boundaries but already having PAID for something previously, when no such rules existed. it's making me want to 1. block everyone i see saying this, because even though i don't personally roleplay the topics above, i don't feel SAFE around people who tell others what kind of fiction they are allowed to enjoy and 2. just quit using people's resources and spend years learning to make my own psds so i won't have to worry about this shit. it's just stressing me out, as someone who has been harrassed and bullied online for speaking against censorship. i've had literal sock accounts made just to spew targetted harrassment at me on twitter. i've been accused of being a pedo and supporting incest and this is??? literally for saying "i don't think real people should be harrassed for fictional shit", i've not even shipped underage or incest ships. both make me uncomfortable. but fuck, antis make me 1000000x more uncomfortable than people who ship these kinda ships. i digress, this got rambley, i just. do you have any advice on what to do with the potential psd situation, or am i really just overthinking it? (always worried i accidentally send stuff like this off anon. help)

I need you to know that I actually had to rush-scroll back up and just double check that you did submit on anon lol! I always get worried I'll miss the one person who accidentally didn't use anon, if it makes you feel any better! When someone does submit with their URL attached, I message them first to be sure they are okay with them having it posted that way/it wasn't an accident ;) That's what I would want someone to do!

Alright, so, anyhow...

I've also noticed that becoming a more common thing and it's been on my (maybe huge) list of things to look into for a bit because I really do try to make sure I'm not just noticing things in my areas of the RPC/failing to notice things that do not impact me. Since I do all my edits and graphics, it falls into the first category for me. So, thank you for moving that up the list and informing me that it really is more prevalent and not my imagination!

My take on seeing it was a combination of business logic and anxiety, not going to lie.

On the first: charging to do a psd that is just that, just a psd file being used as a template/to act as an easier version of a photoshop "action" in a way, that's 100% legal and fine. Absolutely no muddy waters there. However, charging to do things like icons, edits, etc. that include images of celebrities and stills from movies (or gifs) is quite muddy. Legally, it's not legal. It's a thing we're allowed to do and use (on most platforms) because we're not making money off of it, we're not claiming to hold rights to the images, and so on - it's ignored but illegal. Charging money for it, however, even when phrased as "for my time" (which, absolutely valid feeling), is a more serious form of illegal and potentially attention-getting. This all gets more iffy though when we add donation instead of direct commission/purchase when working with these copyrighted materials. You can ask people to donate and suggest a donation based on your time spent, and that is always what I advise people to do.

Okay, so, that preface is necessary because the thing about stipulating use-rights is that they're iffy, too, there are variables present.

Often, these same people are charging for things like icon packs as well, meaning that even if they're only charging you for a template-style psd file sans imagery they don't own, they've kind of shot themselves in the foot. Not to mention, it's exceedingly damn hypocritical to pitch a fit about someone violating your rights when you're literally using other people's copyrighted materials lmao And that does tend to occur to me, yeah, it's a consequence of attorney friends and running businesses.

The other issues with this are that usage rights have to be stated at the time of purchase and morality clause-style shit, as pertains to products, is not legally binding.

When you purchase something like a psd file, that purchase acts as a sort of contract.

Think of like...buying a photoshop brush set - the person selling it puts very simple rules as to its use, such as: non-commercial use only, brush pack cannot be resold or distributed for free, separate brushes from the pack cannot be resold or distributed for free individually. Meaning that you own the brushes you bought, but you are not legally allowed to make real-life money from anything you use them in, and you cannot send the whole pack or files individually to friends for free or charge other people for them. By buying these, you have agreed to these stipulations of use and ownership.

If the person sells psd's and you agree to what they've stated about the use (you can't use them to do commissions you make IRL money from, you can't give them away to friends, etc.), that's binding even somewhere as casual as RP Land. The exchange of real currency makes it that serious.

However, there are limits to stipulations of use! One of those things is when you agreed - this person cannot, even one literal second, later change their terms of use and retroactively hold you to them. If they were okay with you not crediting them anywhere or using them in works you will gift others or charge others something like game currency for at the time you purchased, then that's it. Tough shit for them, not you, when they decide a month later that they want credit given where the work appears, that they do not want finished products gifted, or don't want you to make even in-game currency from them.

And that absolutely would apply to the morality wank, yes.

Except that this very morality wank comes with its own issues. Reality is not tumblr. In reality, at least in most instances and countries, you can't throw in a fucking morality clause regarding the buyer, use of item, or finished product.

Think of this in this way: Chik-Fil-A starts denying chicken and waffle fries to anyone suspected of being queer. They're legally allowed to run their business (as a private business, everything does have variables) with some things that are morally objectionable that they feel morally aligns with their religious beliefs. They're not allowed to deny queer workers a job or queer customers service, however, in accordance with overarching laws.

While "being gross" online in fiction is not like, making anyone a protected status person lol this is just an extreme example to drive home the point. Legally, when it comes to items/products be they digital or physical, your rights and responsibilities as the seller don't include your moral policing.

What your right is, is to make people uncomfortable to a degree, yeah. You absolutely can do that. You can state some nasty shit about prospective buyers you don't want. For example, they should (I mean, they should just grow up and get some real concerns, but) be stating that they would not like to see their psd's used by people on this following DNI list of idiocy, and they will block those users if possible to prevent interaction and purchase. That's really it, that's what they can do and the least immature way to proceed.

On the second: none of this logic would make me feel comfortable about interacting with them and their psd's in the future once they had outed themselves as morally objectionable and dangerous to me with this nonsense. And I would still feel anxious about using things I had previously bought because once harassed...it doesn't really go away, does it? It would just give me some ease about the latter with things I'd already made. Like, I could keep using the icons I'd made with those psd's with a little bit more comfort knowing that they honestly have not a leg to stand on outside of their harassment.

I might have the tendency to respond to harassment without much upset, but that doesn't mean I want to be harassed. Especially when I am not doing anything that draws that kind of attention. Not that harassment is warranted over anything, but when I make a PSA or answer an ask that I know is likely to get their attention and piss them off? That's an acceptable risk I am knowingly taking. When I'm just going about my life as a RPer, it isn't.

So, I don't feel like you're overthinking it or being too concerned! In no way did you sign up for getting unwanted attention, and because it has happened before, of course, you're trying to insulate yourself from having it happen again. That's totally reasonable!

Now, what you could do about it...

It's another of those situations in which we're only truly capable of controlling ourselves. Everyone else is kind of a NPC.

You don't have to do anything I'm suggesting, but these are things I would do!

I would block the shit out of anyone saying these things/trying to make them stipulations, yes.

By that, I mean that I would also visit blogs they appear to interact with and they'd be blocked as well. We can all reblog something like resources or a shit post from a user we do not agree with without realizing it, but when it's frequent reblogs, direct support, and friendly vibes going on, it's safer to assume that they are aware their friend sucks. More importantly, that they do not think their friend sucks and support their views.

Even if that is not the case, do you want someone else's repeated inattention to expose you to bad actors? Nope! So, don't run the risk of paying and otherwise interacting with the one resource blog in the group that doesn't express these views/"requirements," but does involve themselves with those who do.

Try to find people selling these resources, that are not connected to the problem ones, who do not have those views. Once a trend starts, it is very hard to stop until it has run its course naturally, so, this might be difficult and take some extreme effort. You might want to consider asking like-minded friends who use psd's where they got them so you can check those users out for yourself.

If they're all the same, problem, people...

Look for users well outside of your corner of the RPC(s) who are not asking to be paid. I know it sounds wild, but there really are RPers out there who just enjoy making things for others! I can think of at least one right off on my dash. They might not be advertising for doing psd's or psd packs, but either they might be willing to do so (especially if they do not appear policing-positive) if you explain what is going on, or they could at least fill some requests for you for fully made icons and such. Hell, people who love doing this work usually know others who do as well, and anti-policing people quite reasonably stick together. They could have suggestions for someone not vile selling psd's.

Depending on what it is you want your psd's to do, I promise you that it wouldn't take you very long to learn it. I know...I know lol that's both really easy for me say when I've been doing it for over twenty years and am about to piss some people off. The latter because the most common settings on popular psd's are extremely simple shit, a lot of that is the kind of thing you're expressly told not to do in design work. Like ramping up extreme contrast, pixelating the fuck out of an image, and turning up the primary colors only. Once you get to playing with photoshop or an equivalent, you will totally see what I mean. You can accidentally make an icon look identical to something that is on trend in the RPC. If that was what you were going for? You've hit the mark, and it's just repetition and tweaking it here and there!

Once you start playing with it, too, it's actually pretty intuitive when it comes to the basic things like resizing, adjusting colors and contrast, and doing easy effects like blurs and sharpening. Frankly, playing with it is better than half the tutorials you'll find because they get unnecessarily complicated when all you want to do is crop your muse's face, overlay some color, and add a damn dotted border. Listen, like I said, I have a lot of experience...and I find many tutorials frustrating and overwhelming!

It is not just you, you're not dumb or anything. People get very comfortable with something and when they try to explain it to others, they use terms and methods that are more advanced or specific to them than they realize. That's all!

If you have friends who make their own things, ask them some very basic questions about what you want to do. They know you, so, they'll know better how to explain to you, specifically. Just keep it simple until you've had some time to experiment! Ask things like, "I want to take this image, resize it to be an icon, and add an orange tint to the image while sharpening only my muse's features...how would I do that? Easy mode?"

And! You don't even have to pay for photoshop or pirate it anymore! Photopea is as an exact copy as possible entirely located in your browser for free. It's all overwhelming at first, a real case of too many options and ways to do the same thing, but the only way it gets less overwhelming is just diving into it. Dive in, get a little frustrated, have some successes, make some awesome discoveries, it gets a bit addicting in short order. Then, the tutorials and tips are so much easier to figure out and expand on, too.

If you'd like, you can always send me a pm here and ask me. I'm happy to try to explain how to do things, zero judgment or impatience. Just an additional option if you both decide to try learning and would feel comfortable doing that. Zero judgment as well on not wanting to do either of those things!

Okay, this one is much harder than learning PS basics because it's honestly a bit terrifying...the way these people are, they're going to take issue with you no matter what you do, and in the end, if they notice you and feel like bothering you, they will. There's literally nothing you can do about it. All you can do is try to buffer yourself, stay away from them, and be aware that you are not the problem.

Like with the AO3 thing or writing what could be viewed as toxic relationships. You can never write or be interested in a single, solitary thing that they're on about (and accusing you of doing in real life when the burning Eye of Moron turns your direction), but to them, you supporting the right of other people to do so is just as bad as doing it yourself. To them, the toxic relationships not only would be problematic, they'd be problematic enough. Being uncomfortable with their policing and feeling unsafe because of it is, to them, a red flag of how problematic you are. Writing anything they've deemed objectionable (or reading or viewing it, for that matter) anywhere, doesn't have to be on this platform or RP-adjacent, doesn't have to actually utilize any of their materials, is enough.

They're absolutely including you in who shouldn't use their shit. That's part of the "logic" and methodology of policing. Everyone is problematic, so, everyone can be labeled a pedo and harassed without too many people getting up in arms about it. No one is safe, so, everyone better behave. You don't actually have to be engaging with or enjoying things like underage, non/dubcon, rape, abusive relationships, etc.

It's gross, it's bullying, it's actually a problem...and there isn't much you can do.

All that is truly up to you is making an effort to avoid them, though, this is very often unfair and likely to get more unfair as resource blogs of all sorts deal in it more. At least, in this case, you do have some small bit of actionable power - by not ever buying from them. They wouldn't be charging if they did not either need or want the money, not giving it to them is a bigger hit than things like simply unfollowing/blocking, reblogging PSA's, and so on is!

Nope, it isn't like you're denying them some extreme amount of money by yourself, but every three, five, ten dollars is felt pretty hard when you desperately need money and/or are saving for something.

I know, I mean, I personally do know, that it's impossible to "get over" bullying, Anon. I'm in no way telling you to just get over it and move on, find some great well of not caring somewhere! What I'm saying is that there is power in not giving them power. The power to make you anxious, uncomfortable, unsafe, when you have every right to be here doing your thing and are not hurting anyone. And it might seem to be a deeply contrary sort of logic, but realizing and accepting that there are people out there who irrationally dislike you for literally no reason, that you cannot infallibly escape or avoid, despite doing nothing wrong is a bit empowering. Because it puts into perspective the things you can control, and when we know what is in our control, it's easier to just enjoy our time here without constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. If it drops, we can go put it back in the closet where it belongs.

It starts to put a positive spin on the whole, damned if I do, damned if I don't feeling, if that makes sense? I'm probably way too tired to try to be explaining this lol I'm sorry!

Anyway, again, I'm not implying you can or should do any, let alone all, of those suggestions! I just really hope that something will help you feel even a little bit more at ease. It's an unfair situation, it isn't right, and you have every reason to be uncomfortable and stressed. If I could make it happen, you better believe that every policing asshole out there would be writing heartfelt apology letters and sending donations to everyone they've upset lol but...since I can't make that happen, all I can do is say what I, personally, do, would do, or have done.

#answered #anonymous #purity police #resources #rp advice

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lululawrence · 4 years

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lululawrence’s Fics Posted in 2019

Master Fic Masterpost / Buy me a Coffee?

2019 was a bit crazy, but I’m so proud of the fics that I’ve been able to write and publish this year! There were quite a few of them, so here they are in order of when they were published. I hope you enjoy!

Hey Look, Ma (9k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“I’m so sorry,” a deep voice said.

Louis made sure he’d only dropped his hat, reached down to pick it up, and was dusting it off when he finally looked up.

“It’s alright...mate…” Louis had seen this man before. He was gorgeous. He lived somewhere in the area, because Louis would often pass him on the street heading home from the tube or the nearest bus stop.

And now, here he was. Standing in all his fluffy, curly haired glory in front of Louis, apologising for nearly bowling him over.

“I really am sorry, though. Let me get you a coffee to make up for it?”

Or the one where Louis is a hybrid who agrees to go on a blind date with his neighbour's colleague's son the same night he literally runs into his dream man. Surely this isn't going to end well... or is it?

Charisma (5k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was smiling, and maybe blushing a little as well, as he accepted the phone back. “Thank you,” he glanced down at his phone and then said, “Louis.”

Smiling happily at the way Harry had said his name, Louis watched him leave the room. The further away he got, the more confused Louis was. Yes, Harry was gorgeous, but how the hell had he forgotten that Harry was also the man who had caused him to almost have a major accident earlier because of his haphazard driving? How had he allowed Harry to distract him with his charm to the extent that instead of giving the man a lecture, Louis accepted the offer of a date?

Well. Whatever the reason was, Louis wouldn’t forget when Harry called. Louis would give him a piece of his mind then and see if Harry still wanted to go out with him at that point. Because yeah, Louis was not mad enough about his overreaction to Harry, both on the road and at the event tonight, to turn that opportunity for a date down. He wasn’t stupid.

Or the one where Harry feeds on awesomeness (possibly literally). Louis is awesome and also angry. They’re probably going to fall in love.

Drabbles for Harry's Birthday Drive 2019 (25k) - Various Pairings

Each chapter is a different drabble dedicated to a person who donated to Harry's birthday drive! The prompt requested as well as the pairing are in the author’s note for each chapter as well. There are multiple pairings due to various pairings being requested by the donors, so please pay attention to that information in each chapter! Pairings include Harry/Louis, Zayn/Liam,, Grimmy/Louis, Greg/Louis, Zayn/Louis, and Niall/Shawn.

It’s the Climb (25k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis stretched out his back and turned around, startled to see the most beautiful man he’d ever encountered in his life riding towards him on a horse.

He had to still be asleep. This was one of those super weird dreams people had where the knight in shining armor (or in this case, red sleeveless flannel) literally rode up to them calling their name.

The Hannah Montana AU where Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer. In her attempt for Louis to get back to his roots, he just so happens to reconnect with Harry, and things never go quite as Louis expects them to.

It Was Only a Kiss (16k) - Various Pairings

I participated in a kiss prompt drabble challenge on Tumblr, and ended up writing thirty-three drabbles! Because of the amount all for one challenge, I decided to post them on AO3 to save them. Each prompt exists on its own without relation to others, so pick and choose as you like.

If You Want To Be Loved (0.5k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Greg can't sleep. For once, he doesn't really mind.

(Something’s Been) Hiding In My Heart (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“My eyes must be deceiving me,” Harry said in his slow drawl. His voice was deeper than Louis remembered. Maybe some things had changed after all.

“They aren’t deceiving you. I’m here because I need you to finally sign these papers,” Louis said before he dropped the stack of paper on the hood of the car and held out a pen to Harry. “Just do it, Harry. Get it over with and then I’ll be out of your life forever, alright?”

Face blank of all emotion outside of a sneer Harry said, “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“God,” Louis groaned. Harry just couldn’t let this be easy. His pride wouldn’t allow it. “You know, I never really understood that phrase, but no. I am not ‘shitting’ you. Just sign the damn papers.”

“Ya know, I don’t think I will,” Harry said before turning back to the front door.

When the screen door slammed behind him, Louis realized Harry didn’t have anything else to say.

Or a Sweet Home Alabama AU where Louis comes home to finally get his divorce from Harry finalized so he can move on with his life. Alderford holds its own set of challenges when he returns, but by facing his past maybe he can find the healing he so desperately needs.

You Try To Be Everything (I Need) (36k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Wars, and rumours of wars, were nothing new for the world in the twenty-fourth century. The fighting had evolved over the years, and rarely did it involve traditional weapons. A group most widely known as the Southern Powers gained strength amongst portions of the western European continent and spread quickly.

There was a fight the Southern Powers didn’t expect coming from the north of England, though. Resistance came in the form of an organised underground; a group comprised of people with the Touch that did the best they could to enforce a line that would not be crossed. Slowly, that line was moved from the Channel to boundaries further and further north. It seemed only a matter of time before the Southern Powers took over everywhere.

Until that time, people did the best they could to live their lives in some semblance of normality. For Louis Tomlinson, that sense of normality was about to change when his best friend, Harry Styles, goes missing.

Louis embarks on the journey of a lifetime where he uses his newly developed abilities to search for his friend, even when it takes him to places he never thought he would see while surmounting trials he never could have imagined.

You Turned Up (Like a Friend of Mine) (10k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis padded downstairs, feeling incredibly thirsty. He filled up a glass of water and was about to take a drink when a loud knock sounded at the door accompanied by some yelling and ringing of the doorbell.

“What the hell?” Louis muttered, setting his glass on the counter and rushing towards the door.

As he got closer to the door, though, his mind stopped whirling because the voice was one that was etched forever in his mind, but one that he never thought he would ever hear again.

“Why’s the door locked? Did you seriously go without me? And who’s car is in the driveway? Lou, I knew you’d be late to get me. We’re going to miss-”

Louis whipped the door open, sure that he was just imagining things. There was no way…

Except there was. Standing on the front step was the curly haired, boy-faced Harry Louis had last seen ten years ago today.

Or the one where Harry disappears on graduation day only to show up on Louis' door looking exactly the same ten years later. Through a series of strange events, maybe they can finally figure out that they're destined to be together, no matter what.

Stealing Flowers (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

When Louis finally arrived, he walked in and grabbed an apron. Without even saying hello, he immediately approached Jesy and said, “Sexy Stranger steals flowers.”

She kept pouring the Tanqueray shots she had lined up in front of her, but her face screwed up in confusion. “I’m sorry, he what? Did you finally talk to him and that was what you learned?”

He nodded to another couple of tourists and welcomed them to the Way Station as they eagerly made their way to the Tardis restroom.

“No, I didn’t actually talk to him, but—”

“Then how do you know he steals flowers?”

She was wiping down the bar and stacking the empty glasses to take back to the dishwasher when Louis realized maybe he should help too. After all, he was there to work, not just talk to her about his maybe crush.

“I saw a poster.”

Or the one where Louis pines after the Sexy Stranger on the Subway and almost asks him out. That's when the strange posters start showing up around Brooklyn.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Standing in the mess Greg’s shift had left behind, Louis decided he would start small. He’d organise the paint colour cards that displayed the names and then get started on the sample tins. It wasn’t until he started opening the boxes of colour cards that Louis started to wonder whether Nick had been the one to name the paint after all.

Yellow, Is It Me You’re Looking For? was along the top left corner of a mustard yellow card. Nick was as big a fan of puns and music as anyone, so while it was unorthodox, Louis didn’t think too much of it. Part of the appeal of Annie’s Hardware was that they didn’t take things too seriously while always maintaining professionalism.

The names that followed did leave Louis to wonder if Annie knew exactly what the chosen paint names were, though. The Colour Of My Tears When ‘FRIENDS’ Ended for a soft white, Barneys Blood for a pale purple, and Blond. James Blond. for a sand tone had Louis convinced that it was a different co-worker who had renamed the colours.

Or the one where Louis has pined after Greg for what seems like ages, but when Greg renames the company's paint colors, something might finally be ready to give.

Like a Lighthouse On The Coast (I Need You) (19k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis placed his order with the server and was about to type up some possible lyrics when he heard the music being piped in go silent and a throat was cleared into a mic.

Oh God no. If Louis had known there was going to be live music, he would have chosen somewhere else. Why did they have to ruin what was truly the perfect ambiance for Louis with some sub-par wannabe singer-songwriter?

“Hello, I’m going to sing some songs for you tonight. I hope you like them.”

The voice was deep and smooth, slower than Louis had expected. It made him want to look up at the singer rather than cower into the corner of his booth.

So he did. The man didn’t look nervous at all, but he didn’t look like the cocky asshole Louis had been expecting either. Louis continued to brace himself as he took in the simple Ramones shirt and jeans the man was wearing, when something Louis hadn’t been expecting happened.

The man began to play his guitar, and he was good.

And then, the man began to sing.

Or the one where Louis has all the pressure of his sophomore album and none of the inspiration, but maybe all he needs is someone like Harry Styles to turn all that around.

Oh Honey, Honey (4k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis hated honey. He didn’t like the flavour, he didn’t understand why some liked it in their tea, he hated when it was put on sandwiches or cake or anything really. But, standing stock still in front of a rather large display of honey in that 24-hour Tesco, Louis found himself grabbing the largest jar of “100% pure London-local honey” and adding it to his trolley, simply because he knew it would make Harry smile.

Louis always wanted to make Harry smile.

Or the one where Louis pines after Harry, Harry is passionate about helping save the bees, and a late night shopping trip gone wrong doesn't end quite as horribly as Louis imagines.

You Don’t Care About Me (One More Night) (60k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

“Nick. You’re into guys. What should I do?”

Nick snorted. “You think just ‘cause I’m gay, I know what you should do?”

Louis blinked at him and Nick admired his eyelashes against his will. “Well. Kind of, yeah.”

“That is not how this works,” Nick said. “Besides, it’s not like you can just go and suck someone’s dick to be sure you like it the way I did. You’re too famous to try it my way.”

Louis’ expression changed to one of awe. “That’s how you figured it out? You sucked some random’s dick?”

Nick shrugged. “Yeah. Basically. I mean, I knew for pretty damn sure before that, mind you, but that did solidify the matter for me.”

“I need to suck a dick,” Louis said, turning to look at the wall of Nick’s room.

“You could suck mine, if it would help,” Nick offered before he could stop himself.

Or the one where Louis pines for Harry and Nick helps ease his way into figuring himself out through a friends with benefits sort of arrangement. Things quickly turn complicated.

A Taste of Honey (3k) - Greg James/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door expecting someone with Deliveroo. Instead his gaze lifted so he could look at a very frazzled, incredibly fluffy haired Greg James who was inexplicably holding out a very large jar of honey.

“Hello, Gregory,” Louis said slowly.

Shifting around, Greg stepped forward and held the honey out towards Louis again. “This is for you.”

“Erm, alright,” Louis said before carefully taking the heavy jar from him. “Thank you?”

Greg flashed a wide grin, nodded, and then without another word walked back out the front door of the building.

Or the one where Louis has been pining after Greg ever since he started his job. Greg randomly showing up at his flat with a jar of honey might be just the push Louis needs to finally talk to the man.

Just Like Honey (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Louis opened the door and he looked so soft and beautiful. He was in a ratty pair of grey joggers and that was it. Harry had never seen him look so good.

When Harry finally raised his eyes from Louis’ chest, he realised Louis had likely said something.

“Uh,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Smirking a little, Louis crossed his arms and popped his hip. “I said, ‘Hello, Harry. What brings you here so late on a Saturday?’”

Then his brain kicked in.

“Right, fuck. Hi, Louis. I just wanted to give you this.”

Louis’ brows creased as Harry held the honey out to him. Taking the jar from Harry, he said, “Honey?”

Nodding, Harry said, “Yep. Hope you have a great night!”

Fisting his hands at his sides in frustration, Harry left the building as quickly as he could.

Honey, Honey, How You Thrill Me (3k) - Greg James/Harry Styles

Harry knocked once more before coming to the conclusion that knocking for longer than that was rude.

He’d just decided to leave when the door opened.

“Fuck, you were asleep, weren’t you?”

“Well, it’s past 8, so yeah, basically,” Greg said with a yawn.

God, he’d been asleep for over an hour. Harry was the worst.

“I’m so sorry. Here. Take this and get back to sleep. I’m so incredibly sorry for waking you up,” Harry babbled, shoving the jar of honey into Greg’s hands.

Greg looked at the jar then back up at Harry, still not saying anything. Probably because his brain was still asleep just like his body would’ve been if Harry hadn’t been a fucking idiot.

“Sorry again!” Harry said before giving a lame wave and rushing off to the nearest tube station.

Or the one where Harry pines after fellow Radio 1 DJ Greg James but doesn't know how to start a conversation with him...until he gets the needed inspiration.

Our Love is Timeless (6k) - Niall Horan/Shawn Mendes

He rinsed out his shampoo and began to scrub at his body. Turning around to rinse his back and wash his front, Shawn was not prepared to be met with a cursing blond Irishman.

Letting out a rather loud, high pitched scream and covering himself as best he could, Shawn backed up into the wall behind him, which also turned off the shower.

“Thanks, mate. Was hoping not to get my clothes entirely soaked,” the man said as he began stepping out of the shower stall. “Say, what year is it?”

“I...what?” Shawn sputtered. “You just show up, fully clothed, in a stranger’s shower and your first question is what year it is? How the fuck did you get in here? Why my shower? Who are you?”

“Well, yeah. I guess so. I’ve not quite got a handle of the whole time traveling thing yet.”

Or the one where Shawn falls for Niall, who just happens to be a time traveler. The course of true love never did run smooth.

Like Honey to the Bee (3k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

Nick didn’t even remember knocking, but suddenly the door he also didn’t realise he was leaning on opened and he started falling inside Louis and Harry’s flat.

“Fuck,” Nick blurted as he tried to right himself. He was caught by Louis, which was great because he was exactly who he wanted to see and he didn’t really fancy dropping a massive jar of honey on his doorstep.

“Nicholas?” Louis asked.

Nick couldn’t help it. Hearing Louis call him by his full name made him shiver. He usually hated it, but there was something magical about Louis Tomlinson that made the usual negative association suddenly become an incredibly positive one.

“I brought you honey,” Nick blurted as he handed Louis the jar.

“I can see that,” Louis said, sounding confused. “Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s what friends do, yeah?”

Or the one where Nick has been trying to find a way to get past the banter stage with Louis for ages, and honey might be just what he needs to finally do so.

Rings and Things (2k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Niall: I know you’re a lesbian and all, but this is fast even for you

Or the one where Harry wakes up after a night of drinking to find her bed isn't empty and there's a ring she's never seen before on a very important finger.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded (28k) - Nick Grimshaw/Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

A Halloween M(ass)hap (1k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was never going to forgive Niall. He’d been so distracted by his roommate’s cleaning and fussing while he had been looking for the perfect trousers for Liam’s annual Halloween fancy dress party that he’d not realised the black leather trousers he’d chosen to complete his vampire look were arseless.

Of course there was a no return policy, so he’d done the only thing he could do in order to not waste the money he’d already forked out online for the damn things: he added a cape.

Surely, nothing could go wrong.

I Wanna Love (Like You Made Me Feel) (28k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

By the time Harry and Louis are eighteen years old, they've known each other all four years of high school. Through those years, they never have a real chance to spend time together just the two of them. The summer after graduation gives them that chance, and it changes just about everything.

Ten years later, Louis returns home feeling like a failure after losing his job and not knowing where to go next. He never expects to run into Harry again, much less rekindle their friendship. Could this finally be their chance to finish what they started all those years ago, or did they really miss their chance at love?

Swipe Right for a Clean Flat (3k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Harry was done. He was over this shit. He literally only asked his flatmate to do one chore, and that was the washing up. He couldn’t even handle a few plates and cups. Harry obviously overestimated him.

Louis wasn’t that bad. It was just that he only did the washing if he was going out to pull and wanted to bring someone home. If the dishes were put away, that was how Harry knew to vacate the premises. There was no way he was going to listen to yet another girl moan Louis’ name while Harry laid in bed and wondered what it might be like if only Louis liked men.

Glaring at the full sink and debating washing up himself - again - Harry finally turned and stalked to his room.

“Dire circumstances,” Harry muttered as he picked up his phone and unlocked it.

Or the one where Harry and Louis are flatmates and Harry is tired of Louis not doing the washing up. He figures signing up on Tinder as a hot girl might be just the fix for this issue.

You’re a Nightmare, I’m a Disaster (7k) - Nick Grimshaw/Louis Tomlinson

As Nick scanned the shelves, his eyes caught on a bright blue binding. Snooki, it read, A Shore Thing.

“Oh my God,” Nick mumbled, trying not to laugh as he picked it up. He’d watched bits and pieces of Jersey Shore way back in the day.

Without bothering to look any further around the store, he headed up to the counter where Blue eyes was watching him. Nick cleared his throat nervously and set the book on the counter and the man immediately flashed him a look of disdain.

“Seriously? Out of everything we have available, you chose the book we special ordered for a customer?”

“Well, it can’t be that bad if someone specifically requested it, right?” Nick said, trying to keep a teasing tone.

“Why do you think we still have it if it was a special order?” the man asked with a scoff. “They returned it after reading something like three pages.”

Nick frowned at the book. “Well that doesn’t seem very fair.”

Or the one where Nick is a writer, Louis works in a bookshop, and things don't exactly start off on the right foot, but they might just end on it.

The Goat Guy of Bethlehem (26k) - Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

“What a pretty little thing!” a voice cried, catching Harry's attention.

Harry looked up, assuming it was a merchant talking to Gemma or some other “citizen” of Bethlehem, but when he did, he found a woman with bright eyes and long dark hair walking over to him.

“Me?” He wasn’t sure what to expect from any of this since she wasn’t a merchant he had met before.

“Yes, you! I think you’d make a very good husband for my son. Are these your parents?”

“Uh, yes?” Harry said, almost like a question. Robin and his mom just watched on with amusement, much to his chagrin.

Turning to Anne and Robin, the merchant woman said, “I’ll give you six goats for the marriage of your son to mine.”

Or every year, Harry and his family attend a church festival called Bethlehem. Harry's freshman year of high school Bethlehem expands, bringing in new vendors, including one that just might change everything for Harry. But first, he has to see if Anne and Robin are willing to part with him for the price of a few goats.

#mine #my fic masterpost #yearly masterpost #2019 masterpost #my fic #my fic rec #fic rec

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orchidbreezefc · 4 years

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is the ao3 donation drive still going? did i miss it? well, whatever. i’m sure everybody can agree that special time of year makes all social media fucking insufferable for its whole duration. i’ve been thinking a lot about the whole anti vs anti-anti debate for, ohh, a year now? just really putting a lot of time toward reconsidering my preconceptions and revising where i stand on that particular hellish scale. and i think ive finally reached my final verdict. here it goes. ahem.

...

i don’t fucking care anymore. this fight has never gone anywhere or achieved anything except making everyone very very upset. nobody is helping anyone by arguing like this so quit it.

you really want to help people?

educate them.

(strongly worded elaboration to follow)

i have grown to despise both sides of this debate, less because of any moral conflict and more because neither side is achieving anything except making things worse with their current approaches. let’s talk about both.

one side preaches that ‘fiction is not reality’ and writers and readers know the difference. in theory this neatly absolves them of having to take responsibility for anything, because under that logic, there’s no real problem, and any time the ‘antis’ take umbrage with fucked up shit in fanfiction, they’re just being puritan book-banning types, overreacting and espousing the type of censorship that led to the fanfiction purges of yore.

the problem there is that not everybody can tell the difference between fiction and reality. it’s cool that you are knowledgeable and careful to not internalize the shit you read and write as normal and okay, but have you heard of the jaws effect? do you remember the sort of behavior western culture decided was incredibly romantic from a boyfriend in the wake of twilight? hell, have you actually literally been groomed by predators and abusers with child porn and suchlike? because i know people who have been. i was too, to some extent. believe it or not, it does happen.

so what’s my answer? education. if you have no specific training or experience, especially if you’re a minor, it’s actually really fucking hard to look at dark writing and effectively identify and separate which parts are fucked up and should stay fictional vs which parts are in the fic because they are normal aspects of real life relationships. we need to teach people the critical thinking skills to do that.

for years i was a teen in an abusive relationship that heavily featured consumption and creation of adult/minor porn and similarly fucked up stuff. in all that time i never saw a single post meaningfully and practically explain how to keep a healthy and critical attitude for your safety when you encounter shit like that. hell, i’m not sure i’ve seen a single post like that since.

there were NO tools immediately available and accessible for me, a teen on tumblr up to my neck in child porn and abuse, to educate myself about it and engage (or disengage) from a more informed standpoint. i’m sure those resources exist, but they aren’t on my dash, and if today’s fans are anything like i was, they won’t embark on a google expedition to learn skills they may not even know they need.

yes, i was one of those minors that clicked past ‘18+ only’ banners; no, i do not feel authors should be held responsible for the fact that those minors will always exist or crucified for people irresponsibly reading their comprehensively-tagged content. you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink, etc etc--but the horse should still have access to water. education should be available, regardless of how many people will use it to become more responsible.

everything follows from there, really, so if youve got the point you can probably dip out now, or skim the rest. but fair’s fair and i don’t want to let the hardline ‘antis’ (BIG scare quotes) off the hook about their own terrible approach. while anti-antis want to pretend there is no problem, antis are so focused on the problem that they won’t implement moderate solutions that might actually do anything because they don’t want to practically deal with the problem as it exists, they want it to be Gone. their solution is ‘nobody should write bad shit and nobody should be able to read it’, and nothing but.

think anti-gun folks. anti-gun folks so firmly believe that nobody needs or should have guns that they usually dont talk to their kids about gun safety. why should they? they don’t need to! except sometimes kids go to sleepovers with a friend whose jackass brother has a secret gun and now they dont know how to be safe around it. now it doesn’t matter whether you’re actually right about guns or have the moral high ground--you’ve made your kid less safe around them.

or think abstinence-only education. folks don’t want kids to have sex in circumstances they don’t approve of, so they don’t tell them how to do it safely in hopes they will be so scared of the consequences they cannot effectively avoid that they simply won’t have sex! of course, kids do it anyway, only with less knowledge of how to protect themselves. all you’ve done is withhold maybe the only reliable, safe information they could have had.

there will always be bad shit on the internet. even if ao3 went against its whole purpose and did ban content, another site would appear to host the banned shit, so we’d just have a more highly concentrated area of toxic content. and there would still be worse elsewhere, and there would be worse than that irl. mounting an impossible crusade to ban everything dangerous so nothing potentially damaging EXISTS to hurt anyone will never work and--given that ao3 hasn’t budged yet--the effort hasn’t actually helped pretty much anyone in the many years that tumblr has been on-and-off insufferable due to this argument. isn’t it more practical to give readers the reading comprehension/critical analysis tools to handle bad shit when they do inevitably encounter it?

tl;dr: educate people. putting the onus on authors who are ALREADY tagging/warning (as they should--that is still important!) doesn’t work. individual authors can take great pains and add a disclaimer or a helpline number on their fic, which might help the maybe 300 people who read that particular fic. but give a man a fish, teach a man to fish. if you use a blogging platform, which is more suitable for conversation, to teach people to read critically and safely, they will use those skills to be safe in every fandom they engage in from then on.

this is the number one thing we can do to help the most people over the longest term. teach them to make their own decisions. teach them to keep themselves safe. regardless of which side you’re on, you should be able to agree to do THAT. maybe put more effort into that than screaming at the brick walls that you are toward each other. it’s less sexy than Being Right, but it might actually protect someone.

#sage original post #sage speaks #discourse #fandom #antis #ao3 #archive of our own #otw #anti antis #whatever dude fuck it #its a beautiful day to swing a bat at a hornet's nest #throwing an honest attempt at nuance and common sense into a minefield just to feel alive #shipping #csa talk and such #long post #theres also talk about actual book banning attitudes to be done but this is long enough so whatever #also i kind of hate how its been used as a talking point #so. ask me about it later

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tsaritsa · 7 years

Text

for the serpent has died and i’m leaning by your side (5/6)

this fic can also be found on ff.net and ao3.

FIRST CHAPTER PREVIOUS CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER

He hates being reduced to the role of civilian – a convalescing civilian, even more. He hates the red tape that surrounds his recovery; hates that Riza still hasn’t come out of her coma like the doctors said she would.

The aftermath of the Promised Day isn’t pleasant for anybody involved.

She's still for days. He watches her breathing, watches the rise of her chest in slow, steady beats. She runs like clockwork – to the point where he can use her to count the time. Fourteen inhalations is equal to roughly a minute. He watches the drip attached to her left side. Every nineteen and a half seconds releases another bout of her medication. He watches the sparrows that cluster outside the window, chattering for the stale bread he throws them when lunch comes around. He counts the tiles in their room, their sides, and how many squares he can find within. She grows paler with every hour, the anemia becoming painfully clear. The blood did not take; and now Riza Hawkeye is fighting a battle on two fronts when one nearly killed her on its own.

He wakes at nine and watches her for fifty-five minutes before a nurse comes in to take him for his daily physio. Some days they do eye exercises: they practice focusing at different distances, reading unidentified texts at quick speed, exposing him to light in bursts that make him vomit on more than one occasion. Nobody is particularly sympathetic to his plight – they simply wait for him to finish kneeling over the rubbish bin before they pick up where they left off.

Sometimes they work with his hands and fingers: practicing cursive and basic shapes with different pens and paintbrushes. This kind of rehabilitation is harder because he has an actual injury hindering his progress, as much as he hates to admit it. They focus on hand-eye coordination; he spends time with the young children in the hospital, threading gaudy beaded bracelets for all of them that takes him more time than he’d like to admit to finish. They’re sweet children, and it is both humbling and sad that they’re the ones who give him the most affection. One girl called Daisy is absolutely besotted with him and demands that he plait her long silken hair every day – in return, she gives him sloppy and spit-smeared kisses all over his face. He’s not entirely sure how this is fair payment for his services but the nurses tell him in low tones that her parents abandoned her once it became apparent she would not be completely cured of her illness, and that this is the first time she’s responded so well to an adult who isn’t her doctor.

It’s easy for him to forget that there’s life that exists beyond his own, that there are problems that he can’t solve so easily with paperwork and his signature. There is nothing he can do for a girl who is barely six and already learning truths about humanity that he is still coming to grips with.

The wounds are still healing, but each day he feels like he is retaining more of his fingers – by the end of the fifth day in hospital, he is able to grip a pen for an entire page of cursive writing with only a slight twinge in his muscles. The doctors and nurses clap for him, and when they return him back to his room for lunch, she lays there, just as unnaturally still as when he left her, her steady breathing the only indication that she is alive, and not an unusually pretty but sickly doll.

"How long will she be in a coma?" he asks the nurse. She shrugs, and checks off the paperwork on his clipboard before leaving the room. He knows she has been under a lot of strain – and he had managed to read over her own clipboard before the doctors realised what he was doing. His men hadn't been lying to him – Riza had been quite literally put through the wringer, but the extent of it was still unfolding.

She'd already had one seizure during surgery, he thinks grimly, and her chances of another one were alarmingly high. Her blood was still reacting badly to the Rhesus-positive donation, and in hushed whispers he heard nurses talking about how there was now a complete national shortage of O negative and A positive blood anywhere in the country.

What stung even more was that he couldn’t even help. A donation for an O negative person could only come from another O negative – and the doctors were even on the fence about their decision to give her O negative Rhesus positive blood, (despite the dick that had dropped by to seemingly gloat about his decision to all but poison her).

Anything more, they whispered, and we would kill her.

He hates being reduced to the role of civilian – a convalescing civilian, especially. He hates the red tape that surrounds his own recovery; hates that Riza still hasn’t come out of her coma like the doctors said she would. He waits, and watches, and wishes, but nothing changes. There are still fifty-eight tiles in the ceiling. The sparrows still ask for food when he knows the Elric brothers are also feeding them, a few rooms down.

Riza still breathes, fourteen times a minute.

Edward comes by late Thursday afternoon. He looks lighter than Roy has seen him in years – finally he looks more like the young man than the soldier he had been pushed to become.

“Hi Colonel Butt,” he says, dropping himself down unceremoniously at the foot of Roy’s bed. Roy scowls and leans back into his pillows, crossing his arms gingerly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Fullmetal?” He tries to keep the fondness out of his tone, but it proves too difficult – despite all the shit he’s going through – what Riza’s still going through, motionless and entirely unresponsive next to him: he is honestly so happy for the two boys. He still can’t quite get over seeing Edward with two arms made of flesh – it has already started to tan, gain muscle mass even after only a few days since he got it back. Roy’s hesitant to acknowledge that he has always viewed them as surrogate sons, in a way – besides being grossly inappropriate to say so while he was their direct superior officer – he was also well aware that Edward would find it difficult to accept the admission without publically rejecting it.

Perhaps when all the dust has finally settled he might be finally given the chance to do so, but until then Roy will hold his tongue. There’s an unconditional understanding that the boys already know, but there is a distinct difference between making an educated guess and being told.

Edward shrugs, drawing his legs up to sit cross-legged. “I thought you could use some company,” he says simply. He jerks his head in Riza’s direction. “Any change since last time?”

Roy shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to consider that a blessing or curse now,” he confesses. “A blood transfusion didn’t go well…so now it’s just a waiting game to let her body sort itself out, I suppose.”

“Well that’s shit,” Ed says bluntly. “She’ll pull through though. You best be prepared for the lecture she’ll have ready for you when she wakes.” His face splits into a wide grin. “Don’t think anybody will want to be around you guys for a while after that.”

Roy sniffs, and raises his eyebrows disdainfully. “If you’ve come to make fun of me, you can piss off, thank you very much.”

Edward leans an arm against the attached table at the end of Roy’s bed, poking at the food leftover from lunch with disinterest. “Whatever Mustang. I know you hate it in here just as much as me.”

Roy adjusts himself against his pillows, sighing heavily. “Can’t fault you there, kid. Has Alphonse been allowed to leave his quarantine yet?”

Edward makes a face, picking away at the stale bread roll. “We’ve been trying to figure how we can sneak him out to see something other than a hospital room but I think the nurses are onto us. They keep barging into the room like they expect us to be shooting drugs or something.” He laughs a little, but it is tinged with sadness. “Al’s been…not too well. The doctor gave him a vaccination for smallpox and the – what’d he call it? – DTE or something-”

“DTP,” Roy cuts across him smoothly. “Diptheria, tetanus and…pertussis, I think. You two didn’t get any when you were younger, did you?”

Edward shakes his head. “Winry’s parents used to be the go-to doctors for vaccinations because they always had shipments coming in from the big cities with their automail parts, but after they died people stopped getting them. It was too expensive.” His face drops suddenly. “This means I have to get one too, don’t I?”

Roy nods and tries to hide his smile. “I’d recommend it,” he says. “Get them all done in one go so you don’t have to worry about them later – they’re useful if you’re thinking about travelling abroad.”

Edward makes a face. “I’m done with travelling,” he says pointedly, and Roy raises his eyebrows in a sure you are way.

Edward sighs absently, pulling the bread roll apart. “I miss Win,” he says after a long pause, his long bangs hiding his face from Roy. “Like, she knows that we’re okay and that Al’s got his body back but…” he trails off, pulling the bread apart more roughly now. It crumbles under his grip easily, scattering over the remains of the unidentified meat they served for lunch today that Roy only took a bite of to decide he’d instead wait instead for Breda’s daily excursion to the deli down the road.

“Can she not come visit you here?” Roy asks carefully. He knows the young mechanic can be a touchy spot for Edward – knows and understands how important she is in his life.

Edward shrugs in a noncommittal manner. “It wouldn’t be the same, you know?” His voice is half wistful, half defeated. “Like, all the roads and railways in the East have been trashed and I know I’d be able to get her up here no problem but…it wouldn’t be right. Neither of us is in any condition to have lots of visitors – Al especially – and I don’t want to make her worry any more than we’ve already made her do. We’ve caused her enough pain.”

“I don’t think Winry would see it like that,” Roy says reproachfully, sitting up a little straighter. “She’s always going to be worried about you, whether you’re back home in Resembool or off saving the world – which, by the way, thank you for that. You’re considered family in every sense of the word and it’s not going to change all of a sudden just because you have. If she’s anything like you’ve described to me, she is going to be immeasurably happy for you. Like we all are,” he finishes pointedly, watching the younger man duck his head, red blooming through his cheeks.

It’s quiet in the room for a while. Roy grabs one of the books that Falman had left for him – apparently people in the North had nothing better to do than write lurid and exceptionally long tales of Drachman spies and wily Amestrian woman seducing them with ample bosoms and craft beer. Edward remains sitting at the bottom of his bed, alternating between pushing the leftover food around with a fork and flopping out onto his bed, idly quizzing him on various elemental properties and alchemical theories. It’s a welcome reprieve from what his life has been reduced to – waiting and waiting and waiting with no real end in sight. He knows Edward must feel the same, and he doesn’t begrudge him what little change he can make to his routine right now.

Eventually a nurse drops by and nearly drags Edward off the bed, fussing over him and chastising him for leaving his brother alone for so long. Edward rolls his eyes and gives Roy a pointed look as he leaves, Roy understanding that to mean he might be seeing Alphonse in the flesh (and doesn’t that feel strange to think? To fall of his tongue like it’s a normal thing to say about a fourteen year-old boy?) sooner than the doctors and nurses would have him believe.

this chapter feature some beautiful art by @rebbi-sonnenhell, which u can see on the ao3 version of this fic. i’ll be sure to reblog the art once they publish it bc i am in love with it a LOT

#fma fanfiction #royai #roy mustang #riza hawkeye #edward elric #fullmetal alchemist #edwin #my fanfic #i really enjoyed writing for ed and roy!!!#they're v similar ppl and it's interesting to see how they react against once another...#i feel like i neglect the role that both roy and riza AND team mustang in general plays in the boys' lives...i am gonna try and write more #gen-based stuff #i think it'll make my writing better #i think just getting out of just royai-centric stuff will be good for me #i love my dumb babies but #i should love ALL the dumb babies

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