#<- Just because half the internet is still mad about it

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

[inkskinned]

i. there's this video of a guy dancing on his tiptoes. i will begrudgingly admit the song is kind of catchy actually. i don't think it's the worst song i've ever heard. he seems passionate about it. but it is embarrassing, how he's dancing.

ii. you know where this story is going, unfortunately, and so do i.

iii. three weeks ago i had to drag half a dead rabbit out of my dog's mouth. i was just recently discussing how cruel things feel lately. that the way the world is shifting feels mean. three days ago, a random woman rolled down her window to snap at me because she missed her turn. this is now routine.

iv. 11 years ago in october, i made a post about how we shouldn't make fun of people for doing brave, vulnerable things. it has over 400k notes. people - at the time - seemed to generally agree with me. we have all felt shy and insecure when we share an intimate part of ourselves. we have heard someone at a concert say "that's fucking embarrassing" and said to ourselves - oh, this person is unsafe to be vulnerable in front of. we have said i can't act like that in public. we have left our art and passion in the dark. i think there will never be enough graveyard space for the art we have killed because what if others shame me for it.

v. the thing i was bullied for in high school was because i was a "predatory lesbian." a popular girl i'd literally never spoken to just decided she didn't like me and announced i was "stalking" her. to this day i have no idea what motivated this - i think i was just shy and poor and awkward and ugly. the perfect target. what they don't really ever show in movies is how quickly it moves, how suddenly strange people in the hallways are attacking you about it. they also don't show you that the bullies get this strange ... glee out of it. like, it's fun for them. it's enrichment. everyone else is in on the joke. suck it up, kid.

vi. so far, from what i have seen, creators that stand up for the musician all seem to have the same story: when i asked why we're bullying a random guy, people actually got mad that i asked. i've had similar things happen to me when i ask for us to be less comfortable with our anonymous cruelty. when an internet stranger says "be kind, it saves lives" - people find it funny to say fuck you i hope everyone kills themselves. pages and pages of people saying the same bullshit. sitting in their little caves, eating their own humor. it's just genuinely exhausting. the natural endpoint of "cringe culture" is that even kindness is cringe-worthy.

vii. loneliness is an epidemic. but where are you going to make your community? call your representative. go back to bed about it.

viii. due to how i was raised, i am always confused by cruelty. i understand the american isolationist belief "i can do whatever i want" - sure. but why wouldn't you want to be kind? i have lived too many bad things. i cannot be the epicenter of someone else's bad dream.

ix. it's just that if we were going to bully someone relentlessly, why is it never the healthcare CEOs. why isn't it the fascists. why isn't it, like, someone who you could at least argue "deserves" it. why is it always just some guy in socks singing a pretty mid song? or a person that doesn't look like you, just, like existing.

x. it's just that i think people enjoy doing it. they want to do it because they get some kind of masturbatory release from it - like a shrug or a splinter, they all seem to say the same thing - come on, it's funny.

xi. the world is sometimes beautiful, and sometimes you make something. the world is sometimes terrible, and you are worried they won't accept what your hands can wring. you open the instagram comments and they're still saying all sorts of shit to just - like - a normal guy. and some part of you thinks: if that was me. good lord. if that was me i'd -

xii. somewhere there is a graveyard. someone is already burying their hopes and dreams.

[postgamevibes]

Summary: A sweet, stolen moment between you and Jack at a café goes viral on TikTok and suddenly, the internet is obsessed with how soft Jack Hughes is for his girlfriend. The teasing from teammates ramps up and your private relationship feels a little more public than you intended, Jack proves there’s no hiding how much he loves you even if the whole world is watching.

*********************************************************

The café was quiet rare for a Saturday in Hoboken, especially after a Devils win.

You and Jack had scored a little corner booth, sunlight filtering across half-finished pastries and your shared iced coffee. He was in full “soft boyfriend” mode: backwards hat, hoodie sleeves pushed up, fingers tapping gently on your thigh under the table.

“You’re staring,” you teased, sipping through your straw.

Jack just blinked slowly. “So?”

“You’re so obvious.”

He leaned forward. “Don’t care who sees anymore.”

Unbeknownst to you both someone was seeing.

A few tables away, a fan sat half-hidden behind a plant and an iced matcha, recording you and Jack from behind her phone screen. It was just a short clip Jack laughing as you stole a bite of his muffin, brushing a crumb from your lip, kissing your hand like he was in a rom-com.

You didn’t know it yet, but the internet was about to fall in love with your relationship.

You found out later that night.

Jack was flipping through his phone, lounging on the couch with you wrapped up in his hoodie blanket combo, when Luke texted him a TikTok.

@user1: not me crying in public because jack hughes is literally the softest boyfriend ever 😭💘 🎵: “Until I Found You” – Stephen Sanchez

You watched the clip play.

The way Jack looked at you like the rest of the world melted away. The way you smiled, easy and happy. The gentle kiss to your knuckles.

Top comment:

you can always tell when a man loves his girl. this? this is love.

You blinked. “Well. That’s definitely us.”

Jack just laughed. “We are pretty cute.”

You groaned and buried your face in his shoulder. “Jack, we’re going to go viral.”

He just shrugged. “You mad?”

“No just kinda liked it being ours.”

“It still is,” he said quietly. “They only get the highlight reel. They don’t get the sleepy morning you. Or the you that steals the covers. Or the you who cried over my split lip.”

“I did not cry”

“Sure,” Jack grinned. “Definitely didn’t.”

The next few days? Chaos.

The TikTok crossed a million views in 48 hours.

The Devils reposted it. Buzzfeed wrote a listicle. Your name started trending. People in your DMs asked for skincare routines and “how to land a hockey player.” One girl wanted to buy Jack’s hoodie for $20.

Jack’s teammates were merciless.

“I didn’t know you were auditioning for The Bachelor, bro.” “Did she spoon-feed you too?” “Hey lover boy, want me to play ‘Your Body Is a Wonderland’ in the locker room next time?”

Jack took it in stride. “Y’all just jealous,” he’d say, totally unbothered.

You? A little less so.

It was sweet, sure. Nothing negative. But still your thing with Jack had always felt like a quiet corner of the world. And now it was getting blasted with ring lights and love song edits.

It all peaked one afternoon when you dropped off Jack’s water bottle at practice.

As you passed the glass, someone on the ice yelled:

“Don’t forget to blow her a kiss, TikTok boyfriend!”

Jack skated past, smirking. Met your eyes and winked.

You mouthed I’m going to kill you.

He mouthed back love you too.

That night, after the teasing and reposts and chaos, things felt quiet again.

Jack came out of the shower, damp hair curling over his forehead, sweats low on his hips, hoodie sleeves bunched at the wrists. He dropped beside you on the couch with a sigh and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ever wish we’d kept this quieter?” you asked.

He looked at you. Thought about it. Then shook his head.

“Nah.”

You tilted your head. “No?”

“I mean yeah, it’s a lot. The guys are gonna roast me forever. But—”

His voice lowered.

“I’m not gonna pretend I don’t love you just because someone’s watching.”

You blinked.

“I love you. On the record. Off the record. Online. Offline. I love you when you steal my hoodies and when you call me out for leaving my stuff everywhere . I love you when you roll your eyes and when you kiss me with muffin crumbs on your lip.”

“Jack…”

“You okay, though? Really?”

You nodded, slowly. “Yeah, just weird, but not bad.”

He kissed you again, and again, like he had all the time in the world.

“Next time we get caught on camera,” he murmured, “I’ll try to make it even cuter.”

You laughed. “You better not, I can’t go viral again.”

Jack grinned. “Too late, already planning the sequel.”

[amirawrah]

⭐︎ Not yet but soon

with JUDE BELLINGHAM . blurb

synopsis: When Jude casually calls you his wife in a live interview, the internet is like huh?? You’re panicking, he’s unbothered.

You were lying on your couch, robe on, green face mask setting, a bowl of strawberries in your lap and one sock half-off your foot. Pure chaos and comfort. A cozy Sunday.

The TV was on, but muted. Jude’s new interview was playing on a loop on every sports network and social platform—you figured you’d catch it live.

You were in the middle of texting your best friend about brunch plans when it happened.

Interviewer: “You’ve been glowing lately. Life’s treating you well off the pitch too, yeah?” Jude (smiling in that too knowing way): “Yeah, life’s good. My wife keeps me grounded.”

Record scratch. You blinked. Paused.

“...my wife keeps me grounded.”

You sat up so fast, your bowl of strawberries nearly went flying.

WIFE?!

The group chat popped off within five seconds like they were waiting to pounce, texts like WIFE!!?? to tell him to chill to am i a bridesmaid or what???

You buried your face in your hands. “Jude,” you groaned, grabbing the remote and turning the volume up.

He looked unbothered on screen, all charm and soft curls and casual ‘yeah, my wife’ energy like you hadn’t spent months dodging rumors and keeping things private-ish.

Your phone started buzzing again—this time, it was him. Speak of the devil.

You answered without a hello. “Are you mad?”

He chuckled. “So you saw it?”

“I heard it. Wife?? Babe, we’re not married.”

He paused, and for a second, you thought maybe he’d panic, walk it back, say it was just a slip. But instead, he said—

“Yeah, but… we’re basically married, aren’t we?”

You opened and closed your mouth. “That’s not how it works!”

“You have a drawer at my place, I have one at yours. My mum calls you her daughter already. You know my bank PIN.”

“Okay—first of all, I only know your PIN because you forget it under pressure. Second of all, the world thinks we probably eloped in Vegas now!”

He laughed again, but it was softer this time. “Sorry, babe. It just slipped. Didn’t realize it’d blow up that fast.”

You sighed, flopping back onto the couch, phone pressed to your ear. “I’m wearing a face mask and eating strawberries like a fool while the world thinks I’m somebody’s wife.”

There was a pause, and then, just barely. “You’d make the prettiest wife, though.”

You froze. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Be sweet after making me panic.”

Jude snorted. “Too late.”

Then, quietly. “I’ll say it again one day. The real way. Just not with cameras around.”

You felt your heart melt and your stomach flip, all at once.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay,” he echoed.

A beat of silence.

“Still wanna come over later? I’ll cook.”

“Will my husband be there?”

“Stop,” he groaned, laughing. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

“Not a chance, Bellingham. Not a chance.”

[seat-safety-switch]

There's a diner near me that is really mad about all the construction. This shouldn't be a surprise to everyone, because the natural enemy of any small business owner is "literally anything." Turns out that the big wigs at City Hall callously decided that they should repair the sidewalk in front of the diner, so that little old ladies don't trip and bust their heads open on their way to buy a $19 brunch.

Now, any normal person would simply shrug and accept that it's going to be a little inconvenient to eat there for a couple of weeks. Not these folks, who immediately flew off the handle and demanded the resignation and/or ritual suicide of their city councillor. Then the councillors of the adjacent ridings. Then the mayor. By the time they were done screaming at every politician they could find up to and including on the International Space Station (which has an informal "mayor" astronaut onboard at all times, due to historical precedent) they were out of legal options. It was time for them to get dirty.

I took the contract, of course. Being a freelance shithead has become really easy since the advent of the internet. Used to be, you'd have to make a name for yourself being a sort of apprentice henchperson, before you could really do all the serious henching. Now, if your website is nice enough, you can jump right to the head of the class. I had my friend XHTML Nancy put it together for me. She's really good at making the little CSS animations of me beating a bookie half to death with a blackjack.

My job was to get revenge on the local councillor, by stealing their car. Now, I'm not one of those folks who would ordinarily mess with anyone else's vehicle. Cars are a unique expression of one's innermost personality, and have natural virtue on their own regardless of your opini– hot goddamn, a Mercedes C-class? You might as well just drive a taxi to work. Anyway, I hotwired that shit, but then quickly realized I don't know how to drive an automatic transmission. I ended up leaving it in "R," for "revenge," at which point the car made a scary noise, that in retrospect was probably a working stereo (I am also unfamiliar with this concept.) In fear, I hopped out of the car, only to watch it careen across the parking lot, jump a sidewalk, and then smash directly into the window of the diner across the street.

I still got paid – the rent-a-thug platform is very serious about either settling your bill or getting a bad rating – but things worked out in the end. I'm told that after all the commotion, the city's construction worker union refused to work at an unsafe job site and just left a giant, empty pit where the sidewalk used to be in front of the diner. Every morning, the councillor goes over and inspects it. That's some good foot traffic. I bet he can afford the $25 mimosa platter, too.

[ruzz9]

Hey so I've loved your girl!dad snape drabbles and I wanna know if you were able to write a drabble where he finds out his daughter is dating Harry Potter ☺ also if you don't like the idea or whatever I'm not gonna be mad like how some people will get on the internet. I honestly just think it would be funny. Like his daughter just girl the courage to tell her dad she's dating Harry and his face show no emotion but just suddenly get up, find Harry and just. Go. Off. Whether it be in private or in the courtyard of Hogwarts where a lot of students hangout me a while Harry is praying he is still alive after lol

Harry Potter and the Only Brave Boy to Date the Half-Blood Prince's Daughter

Summary: You finally had the courage to tell your dad you’re dating Harry Potter. Now Snape is going to confront him... And Harry is praying, sweating, and seriously reconsidering his life choices.

A/N: Hey hey! Back again. Thanks for the request! My anxiety is still recovering from this one. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Warnings: Intimidation, Power imbalance, Angst, Manipulation, Tension.

Masterlist

1,7k Words

The students hurried out of the classroom, carrying scrolls, bags, anxiety. Some didn’t even notice you waiting by the Potions door. Others did, and looked at you as if you were about to do something forbidden.

Snape came out right behind the last student, his robes billowing as if they too were irritated. Upon seeing you there, he didn’t change his pace or expression.

“Dad,” you said, stepping beside him. “I need to talk to you.”

“Not the time.”

“Just a minute. It’s important.”

“The only thing that matters right now is that you review your defensive spells before the next assessment. A minute lost here is half a point lost there.”

“Dad. Please.”

That made him slow down. Not completely, just enough to give you room.

“Walk while you talk, or don’t talk at all. I don’t have time to spare.”

You kept his pace, like so many times before. He didn’t look at you, but his ear was alert. You took advantage of the slightest opening.

“I’m seeing someone.”

He stopped. So did you. For a heartbeat, nothing moved. The corridor seemed to stretch, a chill crept down your spine.

He turned his head with a slowness that chilled your blood. His expression remained unreadable, but the silence between you grew sharp. But there was something in that silent pause that hurt, and his voice came out tightly controlled.

“Who?”

You hesitated, not because you doubted your choice, but because you knew what your answer would cost.

“Harry,” you said, steadying your voice. “Harry Potter.”

A beat. You watched it flicker—something in his eyes tightening, a shift so minimal anyone else would have missed it. But you knew him. And you felt it: the crack just beneath the surface.

“Since when?”

“Half a term. I wanted to tell you before.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I wanted to be sure it was real.”

Snape took a deep breath, as if even the air had to be restrained to keep him from detonating.

“Go to class.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“If you stay, you’ll lose points. More than you can afford.”

“Dad, please,” you said quietly. “Don’t—don’t make a scene.”

That did something. His lip curled, not into a smile, but something far more unsettling. A slow, venomous twist.

“A scene?” He took a step closer, and his voice dropped even lower, nearly intimate. “I’m not the one who made the mistake.”

“Harry’s not a mistake.”

“No,” he replied coldly. “Mistakes, at the very least, teach you something. Potter is a relapse.”

That hit, like a slap to the chest—and you spoke without thinking:

“I’m not like your ex,” you blurted. “Or whatever that woman was to you.”

He leaned in close. Slowly. His eyes like black blades.

“That woman,” he whispered, “was your so-called boyfriend’s mother. And look at her now.”

He paused. The word caught in his throat, like something he’d rather swallow than admit.

“Dead.”

And the way he said it... He didn’t shout. it wasn’t a reproach. It was a warning.

Then he turned. And walked away—faster now, too fast for you to follow without making a scene yourself. You didn’t need to ask where he was going. You already knew. He was going to find him. And Harry... wasn’t ready.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The bell had rung a few minutes ago, the classroom doors were open. Dozens of students moved through the corridors, changing classes, talking loudly, laughing, dodging each other.

Snape didn’t stop.

The student tide seemed to part for him with an instinctive sense of evasion—as if even the most clueless recognized the imminent danger.

And there he was. Harry Potter. Coming from the opposite direction, talking with Hermione and Ron, distracted, unaware of what was approaching.

But when Harry looked up and met that unmistakable black figure, he froze for a moment.

He subtly pushed Ron.

“This way,” he whispered urgently.

“What? Class is the other way! What are you—” Ron protested, confused.

But it was too late. Snape was there.

“Granger. Weasley. Move along.”

“But professor, we—” Hermione tried, worried.

“Now.”

The tone was so dry, so absolute, not even Hermione dared protest. She exchanged a look with Harry, who seemed on the verge of hyperventilating. Ron patted his arm like he was saying goodbye for the last time, and they quickly walked away.

They were alone. Harry knew, with absolute certainty, that he was screwed.

“Professor Snape,” he greeted, trying to sound calm.

Snape didn’t wait.

He grabbed Harry’s arm with controlled strength, no attempt to hide the intent, and dragged him through the side corridor. Some students stopped. Others whispered.

Draco Malfoy, passing by with Crabbe and Goyle, didn’t miss the chance.

“Well, Potter. Looks like someone found out your little secret.”

His cronies chuckled behind him.

Snape didn’t stop.

He turned down a less-traveled hallway, and then another narrower one, until the stone walls muffled the noise. He pushed Harry against the wall, trapping him between stone and presence.

Harry’s breath caught mid-chest. He looked at Snape with wide eyes, swallowing, trying to compose his face. He tried.

“Since when?”

The question was clear. Direct.

Harry blinked. A small, awkward smile crept up, forced.

“Since when what, professor?” he asked with feigned innocence. “What do you mean?”

The voice was almost convincing. Almost. Snape didn’t bite. He narrowed his eyes slightly, skeptical.

“Don’t play with me, Potter.”

The tone didn’t rise in volume—but it grew heavier.

Harry looked away, pretending casualness.

“Are you talking about... the Slytherin match? Because that was two weeks ago. And we won. Though the referee was crap, of course. But that’s nothing new...”

The professor raised an eyebrow.

“You think I care about Quidditch?”

“Well, I don’t know… you get pretty intense with the Slytherin team, I thought—”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll make you swallow your broomstick, Potter.”

Harry’s heart pounded so hard he could hear it in his ears. Sweat trickled down his back. He’d faced Death Eaters. Dementors. Unspeakable creatures. But being trapped under that gaze… that was another kind of fear.

Snape stepped closer. And this time, his voice dropped to a near whisper.

“Since. When.”

The pressure in the air grew heavier. Harry swallowed again. Rubbed one palm with the other, nervous. And he knew it. He couldn’t help it. He gave in.

“December.”

Snape stared at him. One second. Two. The moment stretched endlessly.

“Half a term,” he repeated. Not a question. “Half a term of lying.”

Harry clenched his teeth. Everything in him was taut, and of course, Snape noticed.

“It wasn’t out of disrespect,” he tried. “It’s just... she wanted to tell you her way. I... I only—”

“You only were a coward.” Snape looked at him with fury.

“No! I’ve taken care of her, I listen to her, I support her. It was her choice, not mine.”

“Since when have you been obedient?” he hissed. “Tell me, Potter, in what world exactly do you think you’re worthy of my daughter?”

Harry raised his gaze, tense.

“I love her. I respect her. And I’d never hurt her.”

Snape looked at him with pure contempt, as if he’d just said the most pathetic thing imaginable.

“You respect her? You respect your professor’s daughter, knowing exactly what I think of you and your lineage of impulsive, arrogant, mediocre Gryffindors?”

“You don’t know who I am,” Harry said, firmer. “And I’m not my father.”

That was the mistake. Snape stepped even closer. Mere inches.

“No, you’re not,” he said quietly. “James, at least, knew where the bloody line was.”

Harry felt heat rise to his face. He opened his mouth, but Snape raised a hand—silencing him.

“I don’t care what you think you feel. Or how much you ‘admire’ her. Or if you write her poorly rhymed poems. What I care about is this: my daughter is not your cure, Potter. She’s not here to make you feel like a better man. She’s not your bloody redemption arc. And she’s definitely not your ticket to cleaning up your father’s mess.”

Harry clenched his fists. His jaw too. But he didn’t speak. There was a knot in his stomach. He didn’t know whether saying something would make it worse—or staying silent.

Then Snape averted his gaze briefly, as if considering a possibility.

“You know, Potter?” he began, in a distracted tone. “There are a few potions I’ve had to remove from the supply shelves this year. Subtle substances—some cause disorientation, ruin your focus for days, or cause mild paralysis in the worst cases. A few drops in your pumpkin juice and you’d forget how to tie your shoes. Oddly, not all of them leave a trace. And some... are nearly undetectable when dosed correctly.”

Harry turned pale.

“Are you... threatening me?”

Snape smiled. This time, truly. Slowly. With razor-edged satisfaction.

“No. I’m illustrating. So you can contemplate the possible outcomes... when someone like me decides someone like you is a bad idea.”

Snape stepped back slightly. And measured him again. “I want you to end it.”

Harry clenched his jaw. “I’m not going to do that.” His green eyes didn’t tremble like before, but they were still full of fear.

“Then this is very simple. If you dare touch her. If you hurt her. If you dare repeat history...” He said it dryly, watching him with steady, unblinking eyes. “I won’t kill you, Potter. I’ll make you wish I would.”

Before turning, he added without expression:

“Don’t drink anything you didn’t prepare yourself. And watch your intentions. You’re officially under observation.”

Without another word, he turned. The swish of his robes was the only sound in the hallway.

Harry stood there. Still. Breathing slowly. With the metallic taste of fear in his mouth, his thoughts in disarray, and the sinking feeling that this wasn’t the last time.

For the first time in a long time, he thought that facing a basilisk was just as bad—or worse—than dating Severus Snape’s daughter.

[ms-demeanor]

Hi! You’re in the LA area, right? I hope you and your family are okay.

Unrelatedly, I ran across a thread on Mastodon about Proton Mail, which I think you’ve talked about before, and was curious what you make of it / how credible it is: https://code4lib.social/@inthehands@hachyderm.io/113838748729664639

I'm fine thanks! Worried about some friends but I'm good.

I think that thread is not incorrect, but is also bullshit.

Email protocols do not allow for 100% anonymous communication and never will, when Proton was subpoenaed for user data that ended up with some French climate activists getting prosecuted they were transparent about what was requested and updated their logging rules to store less data. *Starting* from the assumption that protonmail is supposed to be totally secure OR sells itself as totally secure is disingenuous.

The great thing about open source software is that you never have to trust a shithead CEO when they talk about what the software does. I get why people are angry at the CEO (I think the CEO is at least half wrong in that he is claiming that Republicans will challenge monopolies, but he's not wrong about the destructive corporatism of the Democratic party even if he is *in essence* wrong about which party is more likely to gesture in the direction of breaking up tech monopolies) but A) the thread says that proton's software is "opaque" and it just. Literally is not. and B) that thread links to another thread talking about how what proton is selling is trust and nope. They don't have to sell trust; you can see what their software does if you choose to investigate it, there's no need for trust when you can verify. What they're selling is transparency and from where i'm standing they are indeed quite transparent.

God. Imagine thinking that a zero trust service is selling trust.

So I think the argument that "protonmail actually isn't as secure as it claims" is bullshit that people bring up whenever they're mad at the company (whether they have legitimate reasons to be mad at the company or not).

For the record: you should never, ever, EVER treat email as a secret. Nothing you do over email is really secret because *the rules that allow email to function as a service* require at least some very sensitive information to be an open part of the protocol.

The Proton page on end to end encryption is *very* clear that it is the contents of your email messages that are encrypted, not your email as a whole, and in the image they use to illustrate this the parts of your email that *cannot* be made private (sender, recipient, subject line, time sent) are shown unencrypted:

They're not subtle about letting people know this. Nor are they quiet about the fact that replies to encrypted emails are not encrypted by default.

So the thread is *technically* correct in that all the security "holes" described reflect reality, but it's correct like saying "McDonald's says that you can eat their food for every meal and you'll put on ten pounds of muscle but ACTUALLY putting on ten pounds of muscle requires a huge amount of dedication and a very careful diet and a lot of resistance exercise" - like, I guess yeah that's what you have to do to put on ten pounds of muscle but where exactly was McDonald's making that claim? Did they actually make that claim or are general statements like "I'm Lovin' It" being misinterpreted in bad faith by people on the internet who are mad at something a CEO did?

So. Like. Yeah the CEO is being a shithead, the social media team made a pretty bad fuckup by doubling down on his shitheadery, the product still works as described, AND the thread discussing all of that is deeply annoying.

So.

I think this thread actually does a great job of explaining why I've never seen a "hackers for social justice" group that has lasted. This reminds me a LOT of when someone tried to say that you shouldn't use firefox because the former CEO was a homophobe. There are a lot of deeply shitty people who have made important contributions to our tech ecosystem and if we threw the baby out with the bathwater every time Notch from Minecraft ended up being Notch from minecraft you'd lock yourself out of a lot of really important tools. And this isn't the same as "buying harry potter merch funds transphobia" because it literally doesn't; especially with open source tools you can continue using the software and cheerfully hate the CEO because A) fuck that guy and B) what the fuck are you going to do about it, guy, this shit's encrypted.

I don't want to get too deeply into a discussion about what is or is not cancel culture, but what I'm seeing in that thread (and what I see coming up every time someone brings up the "But the French Climate Activists!" thing) is an attempt to prioritize political alignment over real-world utility. It's attempting to cancel a *genuinely useful tool* because someone involved in the development is an asshole.

By all means, don't give protonmail money if the CEO's trump-positive comments make you feel unsafe.

However: What service are you going to use that is as accessible and as secure to ensure that you actually *are* safe? There are alternatives out there. Do they actually do more than proton? Are they easier to use? Are they open source? One of the responses to that thread was "yeah, that dude seems shitty; i'd switch to another service if there was another one that I felt was as secure" and that's pretty much what I think the correct attitude is. (If you really, really still want to switch, Tuta has been the broadly recommended alternative to protonmail for years but at this point Proton has a suite of services that some users would need to replace, not just email)

IDK i think shit like this contributes to a lot of the bad kind of security nihilism where people are like "oh no, things will never be secure and even my scrappy little open source product is headed by an asshole, i may as well use google because everything sucks" when they should have the good kind of nihilism which is like "man, there are a lot of assholes out there and they're never going to stop being assholes; i'd better take proactive steps to act like the people who make tech stuff are assholes and operate from a better base of security at the start"

so the takeaways are:

Proton never claimed that anything but the message contents of your e2e encrypted messages are encrypted; as far as these things go, they do a pretty good job of being both secure and easy to use compared to other offerings.

Yeah the CEO is being kind of a shithead and I'm not a huge fan of that.

If you think the CEO is being a shithead and don't want to give the company your money, don't pay for their services, but the CEO being a shithead doesn't actually mean you can't trust their services; their services are literally built on zero trust, if the CEO literally wanted to hunt you down personally he wouldn't be any more able to decrypt your emails than he was before and he wouldn't be any more likely to respond to a subpoena than he was before (proton does respond to subpoenas when required but not otherwise; they've been compelled to produce more data in the last decade than before because law enforcement finally realized who they needed to yell at - one of the bigger issues here is the Swiss courts being more willing to grant subpoenas to international complainants than they were before)

The reason we don't go see hogwarts movies is because doing so gives JK money and that does actual real world harm; using firefox does not have an impact on Brendan Eich's ability to materially change the world. It is very weird that we're in a place where we're treating *open source encryption software that is simple enough for your grandma to use it* as though it is Orson Scott Card.

Sorry i'm still stuck on people thinking that proton, famously open source, is opaque, and that an encryption service with zero trust architecture is selling trust.

Anyway if you've ever got questions about security/privacy/whatever services privacyguides.org is a very reliable source.

OH I FIGURED OUT WHAT WAS BUGGING ME

There are a bunch of people discussing this talking about how the CEO's social media is what has made them feel unsafe and I'm going to be a dick here and say that facts don't care about your feelings.

The CEO saying stupid shit doesn't actually make you unsafe in a situation like this; if the CEO was a violent transphobe or aggressive racist or horribly misogynist that wouldn't actually make any of the users of the product less safe. That's why the SJ hacker stuff I've seen hasn't had much staying power; I think that groups that focus on making people feel included and welcome and safe to be themself within the group run into really big problems when there's a conflict between people in the group FEELING unsafe because of (genuinely important in many ways) cultural signifiers like political alignment and so in order to accommodate that feeling they end up doing things (like some kinds of collaboration/accountability practices, abandoning useful tools, WAY too much personal transparency and radical vulnerability for people who are doing crime shit) that ACTUALLY make them less safe.

The CEO being a shithead may make you feel bad, but moving to a less secure platform may actually be dangerous. One of these things can have a big impact on your life, and it is not the one that is happening on twitter.

Anyway. Email is inherently insecure and if you want a secure messaging tool use Signal.

If you are doing crime shit don't talk about it on the internet and DEFINITELY don't talk about it in any kind of unencrypted platform.

If you are a French climate activist who would like to not get arrested if Tuta gets a subpoena for data, use the email service in concert with tor and be cautious about senders/receivers and subject lines.

[cupidsbow00]

Hii! Love your fics! For a request, maybe being friends/coworkers smth like that, but fans keep making edits and theories abt you two dating or being in love or something? Honestly, idk if I want it to be more fluff with a soft love confession or some hurt/comfort where one of them denies it (unknowingly hurting the other one) and with a dramatic love confession - it's up to you to decide cause I literally can't choose.

No rush! You can absolutely write it whenever or not write it at all!❤️💐

I gotchuuu <3 thank you for your suggestion !

Canon now, actually

Bbno$ (Alex Gumuchian) x reader

Female reader, slight angst and fluff at the end, friends to lovers

A/n: I’ve been getting a lot of requests for a friends to lovers fic so here’s my version of it! I’ll probably write another one with more angst and slow burn but please enjoy this one for now and I have more fics coming out soon <3

You had always been there — before the world knew his name, before the streams and sold-out shows and absurd viral TikToks. You were there when he was still in his “let’s see if this music thing works” phase, helping him with shoots, hyping up his worst freestyles, laughing at his chaotic sleep schedule and even more chaotic outfits.

You knew him as Alex, not bbno$. He was just your best friend. At least, that’s what you tried to remind yourself.

But somewhere between late-night FaceTimes and stolen glances during studio sessions, something shifted. He’d show up with your favorite coffee without asking. He remembered every inside joke from years ago. He called you when anything remotely funny happened because, “It’s only funny if I tell you.”

And then the internet noticed

---

It started small — a comment on a TikTok:

- “Are they together or is it just me?”

Then came the edits. Little montages of Instagram stories, him looking at you mid-laugh, hand brushing yours, casual flirty banter. His fans were convinced you were a secret couple.

- “He’s so in love and it’s obvious.”

- “The way he looks at her? That’s not platonic.”

- “She’s his muse. I’m calling it.”

You couldn’t lie — it made your heart race. Even if it wasn’t real, it felt real. The way his hand lingered on your back. The way he called you “dude” and “babe” in the same breath. The way he talked to everyone, but really only looked at you.

But then came that stream.

You weren’t even watching live. A friend sent you the clip with a laughing emoji and a “rip the shippers.”

You clicked.

There he was — in his usual streaming setup, hair messy, glasses slipping down his nose, sipping from that enormous bottle of water he never left without.

A fan asked in the chat:

- “yo be honest. are you and y/n dating?”

Alex read it out loud, grinned, and shook his head.

“What? No way,” he said, laughing. “We’re not dating. She’s just my best friend. Chill, y’all.”

He moved on like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to you.

You sat with that clip playing in your head on repeat. The way he said “no way.” Like it was ridiculous. Like it had never even crossed his mind.

Maybe it hadn’t.

---

After that, you stopped texting as much.

Not because you were mad — but because it hurt. Because you realized maybe you were reading too much into everything. Maybe you had built something in your head that didn’t exist in his.

You needed to let it go. So you tried.

You answered slower. Called less. Didn’t stay on FaceTime with him until 2 a.m. talking about everything and nothing. You told yourself it was healthy. That you were creating boundaries. That he wouldn’t even notice.

Except… he did.

---

It was a week and a half before he showed up at your place, completely unannounced, hoodie up, hair messy, and that look in his eyes like he’d been pacing around the city just to figure out what to say.

You opened the door in surprise. “Alex?”

“Okay,” he said, breathless. “What the hell is going on?”

You blinked. “What?”

“You’ve been weird. Like—like ghosting me weird. You barely text. You don’t call. You didn’t even like the pic I posted yesterday. It was me with a cat, dude. You love cats.”

You crossed your arms. “Maybe I’ve been busy.”

“No, see—no. That’s my excuse,” he said, stepping inside. “You’re never too busy for me unless something’s wrong.”

You looked away, trying to keep your composure. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Then why does it feel like I lost my best friend without warning?”

Your throat tightened. “Because maybe you did.”

He froze. “What?”

You finally looked at him — really looked at him. And it all came out.

“You said ‘no way’ like it was insane,” you whispered. “Like the idea of dating me was laughable. And yeah, I know we’re not dating. I know we’re just friends. But hearing you say it like that… it just made me feel stupid. For thinking this was ever something more.”

Alex looked like he’d been hit by a train.

“Wait—wait. You felt something too?”

You hesitated. “I thought I was imagining it.”

“Oh my God,” he said under his breath, running a hand down his face. “I’m so dumb.”

“You’re not dumb. You were honest. And I needed to hear it. That’s why I backed off — because I needed to stop hoping.”

“No,” he said, voice suddenly shaking. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to disappear because I said something dumb on stream. I thought I was protecting us. I didn’t know you— I didn’t know you felt it too.”

He took a shaky breath, eyes meeting yours.

“I love you, [Y/N]. Like, not in the ‘haha you’re my bestie’ way. I love you in the ‘I can’t go a day without thinking about you’ way. In the ‘you’re the only person who makes the noise in my head quiet’ way. In the ‘I see those edits and want them to be real’ way.”

Your heart was racing.

“I love the way you talk about things you’re passionate about. I love your stupid playlists. I love how you take care of people without even realizing it. I love you,” he finished, voice soft but certain.

You stood frozen in place, tears in your eyes.

“And I didn’t say it on stream because I didn’t think I deserved to say it out loud. I was scared. But losing you — even just a little — that scared me more.”

You stepped toward him slowly. “You mean it?”

“I’ve never meant anything more.”

He opened his arms like a silent question.

You didn’t answer with words — just stepped into him, wrapped your arms around his hoodie-clad torso, and held on like your heart had finally come home.

He kissed your forehead first. Then your cheek. Then, finally, your lips — slow and careful and full of everything he hadn’t known how to say until now.

And when you pulled away, forehead resting against his, he smiled.

“So… can I say it on stream now?”

You laughed, and in that moment — in his arms, with the weight of everything lifted — you knew:

The edits were right all along.

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness (12)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

People are taking notice. This is good, just... don't allow suspicion to linger for too long...

Reader is Gender Neutral!

It was the next morning.

After your little ‘Dress to Impress’ situation with Signora, you grabbed lots of blankets and extra mattresses for the Harbingers. Originally, you planned for all of them to sleep in the living room and dining room as it was the biggest and the furthest space away from you. However, all the girls complained about this and managed to persuade you to let them stay in the guest bedroom instead.

So there you were, moving half of the mattresses and blankets into the guest bedroom for them, not a single shred of help given to you. You’re not sure how they’re going to decide who gets the bed, but honestly, you don’t want to imagine the petty chaos that will ensue because of it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to have the girls close to you, after all, you can hear all their arguments through the walls quite clearly…

Anyway,

After that you used the rest of your noodles for yourself and forced the harbingers to eat boiled vegetables. You’re not evil, it’s just the only other thing you could cook without guaranteeing the house would catch on fire. Also, it might have been the only thing left in the freezer.

And off to bed everyone went after dinner. They didn’t say thank you, of course. However silence is better than having to figure out how to piece your sofa back together like a lego house. As of now, you’re downstairs and suffering through an onslaught of Childe’s complaining.

“When’s breakfast?” Childe whined, laying on the sofa with his patched up injuries still healing.

“Never, until you and the others get a job to financially support the house.” You replied, leaning back on the armchair and watching the news. It wasn’t anything interesting unlike yesterday, with the notice of you being missing being the conversation of the day. Today, it was reporting on the increasing average climate temperature. Ah yes, another problem. But luckily, that’s something out of your control right now.

“But it huuuurts! You can’t expect me to walk around the city limping.”

“Yes, but that won’t stop you from using the Internet, will it?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

Maybe this is a good thing. Letting the harbingers go on the Internet without any control or restrictions could possibly not just end you, but also the entire world. At that point, if you let it happen, humanity’s biggest problem wouldn’t be climate change anymore.

“It is decided.” Sandrone gleefully spoke with an excited voice, walking through the front door and entering the living room. “I’m officially working as an engineer in a garage not too far away. Oh, this is simply splendid news!”

“Sandrone, I thought we agreed you weren’t going to work due to you looking too young?” You questioned her with an exasperated sigh, already expecting this outcome.

“We never agreed on such a thing.” She scoffed at your unenthusiastic reply. “The Rooster and I discussed my wishes to learn the field of mechanics of this world. We decided it would be best if I visited the mechanic’s garage we passed by when we were walking to that weird food place we found you in. When I walked inside and inquired about a position, they instantly said yes! Ahh, it seems even in this world humans can detect true talent.”

“Or, get this, they were suffering from this city lacking engineer’s to hire. From the sounds of it, they were desperate to employ just about anyone.” You fired back, voice plain.

“Don’t be so conceited. They specifically asked for my skills. And, after I talked about my puppets and robots, they were instantly intrigued and brought me aboard!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Good for you, or whatever.” You turned back to the television, not giving her anymore attention.

“Well, I believe it is a wonderful thing.” Pulcinella walked into the room, sitting on the sofa with Childe, his back to Childe’s shins.

“At least someone’s got a job. Did anyone else actually try to find one this morning?” You groaned.

“A woman approached me with a business card, something about ‘fitting the vibe’ with a new fashion collection she was working on and offered for me to be a part of it. What did that mean?” Arlecchino spoke up, passing you the business card she mentioned.

Looking closer at it, you could tell it was a relatively new business. One owned by someone just a few years older than you maybe. Honestly, it actually looks really cool. Maybe you’ll check out the website link on the back of the card later.

“She’s asking you to become a model for a fashion branch she’s designing.” You explained, passing the card back.

“Modelling? Hm, looks like I’ll have to find something somewhere else.”

“You don’t want to be a model?” You questioned her.

“I’m used to working in the shadows, I dislike public attention when I work. Becoming a model would be unlike me.” She sighed disappointedly.

“I say you do it, Knave.” Columbina cheered for her. “If you don’t like it, you could always kill her and erase all footage from her Kamera.”

“Please don’t do that.”

“I suppose that could be a possible outcome.” Arlecchino thought to herself, ignoring you.

“Okay, please don’t think about it if that’s what you’re going to do if you don’t like it! Be normal and just quit the job, and read your contracts!” You exclaimed in horror.

“Very well, I’ll contact her later today.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” You turned to her.

“I thought I’d ask you to help me.”

Of course she’d expect that. Children, all the Harbingers are basically children high on drugs in wonderland not knowing what to do or how to do it. Just what would they do without you? It’s no wonder despite kidnapping you they give you a lot of freedom. You’re surprised they haven’t tied you up and left you to rot in your own boredom actually. You often wonder why they haven’t done that, it’s very clear they get more and more annoyed the more time you spend with them.

“Childe, the second you heal I’m kicking you out of the house until you find a job.” You announced, Childe whining as a reply.

“Why are you so harsh with me!? I’m one of the nicest guys here!”

“Because some of the others actually took the initiative to go out and find a job today which I’m pleasantly surprised at. It could have turned out a lot worse, but luckily it didn’t. Therefore, I really don’t care.”

“Decider!! You’re so mean!”

“Why do I hear Childe screaming a lot more than usual this morning?” Pierro yawned, entering the room with hazy and cloudy eyes.

“The Decider wants him to get a job.” Scaramouche bluntly stated, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. 

“Oh, as if you have room to talk. You didn’t even try to get a job this morning. You didn’t even leave the house to pretend to try!” You argued with him.

“There is no way, in any stage of care I could possibly and deniably have for you, am I working to support people I don’t even like.”

“You’re doing it to support yourself!”

“I don’t even need to eat, silly mortal.” He snickered at your flabbergasted face, struggling to keep up and monopolise him.

“Hmph, if the heartless crude doesn’t wish to work, don’t force him.” Sandrone scoffed in his direction, fiddling with the TV remote in her hands, observing which button does what.

“As I have decided and discovered a place to work, allow me to earn as much money as you need. I can guarantee you, I’ll be much more helpful than this…” She struggled to find the word.

“...thing.”

“Excuse me??” Scaramouche couldn’t believe what he was hearing, his head snapping towards her direction as fast as the speed of light.

“It truly is shameful, to take and not give in return.”

“Like you’re one to talk.” Dottore grinned, entering the room alongside Pantalone and shutting the living room door.

“It doesn’t matter what any of you morons say. I’m not getting a job, meaning stop bothering me with blather I’m ignoring. You’re wasting your own time.” Scaramouche scoffed, turning away dramatically and walking in the direction of the dining room going to do something that you couldn’t even attempt to guess.

“...I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t try it, you’re thinking of what we’ve wanted to do for years. His usefulness is the only thing keeping him alive now.” Pierro sighed, a hand on his head trying to soothe his incoming headache.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

You were back in your bedroom, trying to communicate with the Traveler on the other side again. Alas, he still wasn’t replying in your favour. His blank look was still displayed on his face. Maybe you should stop for a while and give it time, continuously trying seems to be wearing you out more than the Harbingers themselves. Either that, or you’re getting really angry now. …What are you saying!? Nothing will wear you down more than the presence of the Harbingers, never forget what they did and what they could do to you. Even if they’re acting nicely towards you, it doesn’t change how they treat and have treated others. Never forget it, ever.

Speaking of never forgetting, now that you have the time, you should do something about all this merch.

You walked up to your desk, eyeing the different figures and occasional sticker littering your desk. You made quick work of scratching the stickers off, ripping them to shreds and violently throwing them in your bin. You looked at the Arlecchino and Scaramouche figures standing next to each other on the back shelf of your desk, you grabbed them and stared at them, admiring every detail made by the artist.

Such a shame. It’s funny how just last week you were excited that you could potentially buy all the figures and line them up on your desk. Unfortunately, you’ll never be able to see these characters the same ever again. Especially fucking Scaramouche.

You shook your head after a short while of staring, choosing to shove the figures under your bed instead of smashing them like you wished you could with the real people. You’ll try and resell them later for money to support yourself once this is all over.

Anyway, at least now your desk is clear. You can’t remember the last time you saw it bare with only your computer on it. Next, you should get rid of all the genshin plush toy’s on your bed and above your wardrobe. Starting with the massive Childe whale laid out across your mattress. Ugh, but you actually like this one! Without the genshin context, it would just be a cute whale! Should you just shove this one under your bed too? And what about–

“You’ll never guess what I did!” Childe burst through your door, a very excited expression on his face.

“Childe!? What are you doing?? GET OUT!” You shrieked, standing up and running to cover your computer screen before he could see it.

“Okay, so, you know how you told me to go out and find a job when I got better?” He began explaining, ignoring your complaining with a mocking tilt to his head.

“Yes, but get out! We can talk outside of my room!” You quickly ran forward, pushing him away from the door frame and out of the room with haste.

“You don’t even have anything interesting. Just looked like a basic bedroom to me…” He pouted playfully, his eyes narrowing at the door you slammed behind you after you successfully removed him from your bedroom.

“Right. What were you telling me about you looking for a job?” You sighed, not wanting to discuss your bedroom any further.

“Okay. So, I was out looking for a job, yeah? I was struggling and felt really angry, but then I passed by a building with boxers punching and training! I went in and asked if I could try it, and they immediately asked if I could join their gym after I did! Pretty amazing, right?” He hummed, grinning widely.

“...You have to pay to join a gym.” You countered him, a confused expression.

“That’s what I thought too! But, the manager of the place was coincidentally having a meeting with a man looking to sponsor an upcoming athlete. When he saw me, he offered a sponsorship to me. So now I get paid to train in the gym everyday!”

“That’s… um.. You know what? If it’s what you want to do and it pays well, go for it or whatever. Just warning you, sponsored athlete’s training is very harsh and time consuming. You don’t get to eat what you like and have spare time to yourself. You’ll have barely any time to yourself in the house. Not to mention–”

“That I can’t quit until my first fight? Yeah, I know that!”

“Alright fine then. Just… don’t kill anyone.” You gave him a suspicious glance, turning around and opening the door slightly to squeeze through without him seeing your bedroom.

“See you la–”

“Decider, could we have a look at the modelling place now? Pierro has given his permission for us to head outside and find the shop.” Arlecchino walked up the stairs, stopping after seeing the awkward placement of yours and Childe’s conversation.

“I CAN’T CATCH A BREAK I HATE MY LIFE!”

“What are they talking about?” She whispered to Childe, the ginger shrugging as a response.

“Dunno. They’ve been more annoyed than usual today, kind of reminds me of my mother when Tonia steals her clothes and goes outside to make them dirty on purpose.”

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... …

You can’t believe this. The Harbinger’s are actually letting you go outside without the worry of you escaping? Okay, you suppose you are essentially tied to Arlecchino right now due to her grabbing your wrist with an iron hold, but it’s better than nothing!

Your visible appearance must have been one to laugh at. You were wearing an oversized jumper and three of your mothers scarves which were so long they were almost touching the ground, even with the three wrapped around your neck twice. Thank goodness it’s cold today, if it wasn’t, you would be getting even weirder looks than you already are now. You sighed, your breath sticking to you thanks to the blue covid mask wrapped around your face under the bundle of scarves.

“You went overboard, you know?” You turned to her with unimpressed eyes, Arlecchino’s head still looking forwards in attention, ready for any potential surprise attacks like a true soldier.

“No, I say we didn’t cover you enough.” She replied with a rich voice. “I insisted we add a hat to cover your head, but Pulcinella couldn’t stand the fact you’d be sweating with it on.”

“Thank you…” You did a small imaginary salute to Pulcinella. “I would have cried if I had to wear any more clothes. I can already feel my skin soaking wet.”

“That’s repulsive.” She commented.

The two of you crossed the street, heading towards the shopping centre in the middle of your city. When following the link on the business card Arlecchino was given, Google Maps led you to the main shopping centre in town. Seeing this was a beautiful opportunity to see if you could find anybody you recognised to get help, you gladly accepted her request for you to guide her towards the shop she needed to get to.

You walked in, following after the silver haired woman with anxious steps. She stopped, seeing a map of the building and pointing at the words, trying her best to try and read them. With a frustrated sigh, she turned to look at your smug expression, watching her try and fail to understand the map.

“The place you’re looking for is that one.” You walked up to the board, pointing to the name of the clothes shop she was looking for.

“Thank you.” She closed her eyes, trying to conceal her annoyment with a screwed up face.

The two of you then began walking through the shopping centre, yourself occasionally glancing at the confectionary shops smelling like heaven. You were tempted to drag her in, to have a look at the delicious delicacies wrapped in colours and dream of having them, but you decided against it considering her gaze darkened every time you yanked her towards a window.

“You are such a child.” She commented, breaking her silence to mock you. “Pulcinella tells us of your childish behaviour and resorts to disobey, witnessing it first hand at first was entertaining, but now it’s becoming frustrating.”

“I tend to have that effect on people.” You replied, struggling to hold your tongue with a grin. Technically you’re safe right now. There’s too many people around here for her to try anything if you annoy her too much. Sure, she would take out the majority, but there will be some who could run away unscathed in time to call the authorities.

Well, that’s what you would have done if you were 100% sure she came alone with you in the first place. Not only that, but you don’t want to get other people stuck in this situation with you. It’s kind of crazy how traumatic situations like this will either bring out the best or worst in people. In your case, you luckily responded in the former way. To think a couple days ago you were a selfish angsty hermit who never left their room unless your parents called for it.

Arlecchino isn’t stupid, you know she’s the Fourth Harbinger for a reason. She’s intelligent, patient, and excellent at hiding her true feelings if she needs to be careful. A terrifying analyser, and one you should probably stay neutral around when you’re alone with her. If she’s not as arrogant as you think she is, you’re guessing she asked one or two Harbingers to spy on the two of you from afar. It’s a shame you’re not as perceptive as the others, maybe then you’d actually stand a chance.

“Hey,” You felt a hypnotising click in front of your eyes, focusing on the mutated fingers with red nails very close to your eyes.

You came back to reality, finding the silver woman bent over slightly clicking you back. “I would advise you to pay attention and listen to me from here on. I cannot have my guide slacking and leading us in the wrong direction.” She coldly stated, slipping on a pair of gloves you advised her to wear before leaving the house.

“Right.” You coughed, avoiding her mesmerising eyes with a dramatic step back and a light flush on your cheeks. What in her right mind made her think getting that close to you was a good idea!? Is she trying to kill you, and embarrass herself in public??

The two of you walked in silence after that, the happy families and couples you walked by contrasting the tension between the two of you. Thankfully, the shop wasn’t too much further. If you had to walk anymore in that suffering silence, you think you would have charged through one of the shop’s glass windows. The two of you had successfully reached the shop in question and found the woman who scouted Arlecchino inside. You saw her brooming the floor through the glass windows.

“Sooo…” You awkwardly turned to her. “I’m presuming that’s the woman who gave you the business card?”

“Yes. That’s her.” Arlecchino nodded, grabbing your wrist and walking inside with you being dragged behind her.

The shop was very gothic. There were many clothes both in and out of fashion, that seemed to be loved by the community who were browsing the shelves and hangers with bright smiles. Yeah, this is a good shop. It reminds you of one of those small online businesses that only a few people know of due to its rarely appreciated products. You can see Arlecchino fitting in somehow.

“Wow, wow, wow! You actually decided to come!” The woman exclaimed. “Please, do come in! I’ll be with you shortly, I just need to put this broom back.”

She seems… cheerful.

The excited woman ran up to the two of you, standing at the front door. She clasped Arlecchino’s gloved hands, and practically had stars in her eyes.

“If you’re here, I’m guessing you took my offer then? Oh! I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Aurora, but everyone calls me Rora since the name Aurora is quite posh, don’t you think?”

“I think it’s a beautiful na–” 

“Do you really!?” Rora beamed at you, interrupting your quiet voice with her louder brasher one. “I thought so too, until I realised it didn’t fit the brand in my shop.”

“Anyway…~” She laughed, interrupting herself. “We’ll have to see whether my vision does indeed match your style. Come with me, err, what was your name again?”

“My name is Arlecchi–” 

“Ahem!” You coughed, interrupting her with a side eye. You forgot to tell her she should use a different name for when she applies for the job. Fuck, that reminds you, you didn’t tell the other Harbinger’s who unexpectedly went out to find a job on their own to give fake names either!

She seemed to get the hint, closing her eyes then opening them again. “My name is Arlette, it’s nice to formally meet you once more.”

“Sure, sure! The pleasure is all mine, or something like that. Now come on, I’ll have you model some styles I put together to see if they’re good enough to go on my website.”

“Website?” Arlecchino mimicked, turning to you with a raised eyebrow.

“It means if she likes the way you look, you not only get the job but you get paid for the work you’re going to do today. That’s what it seems like anyway, she seems nice.” You shrugged in reply.

“‘Seems nice’?” She gasped jokingly. “I am nice! We’ll show you, you just wait there and we’ll come out looking fabulous!”

“Yes, wait there. It would be a foreseen shame if you exited this shop without a second pair of eyes on you.” Arlecchino hinted, before turning around and following the woman behind the till and through the staff door.

Well, that confirms your suspicions. She did get a couple other Harbingers to trail the two of you to the shopping centre. How frustrating of her. 

What’s even more frustrating is how Rora didn’t realise your appearance is unnatural! Come on, girl, even though it’s cold it’s not normal to wear this many layers inside a shopping centre! Oh well, maybe you could turn to the other customers in the shop?

You looked behind one of the shelves covered in t-shirts, peering through the gap to see two other girls laughing at a video on their phones. Would now be a good chance? But you’re being watched. Maybe you should test the waters first by having a normal conversation.

Yeah. That’s a good idea. Now, if your legs could just move and guide you to where you want to go that would be great. It would be a bit weird if you called out to them when you’re in an enclosed space together. Huh? Why is the ground shaking? You feel like you’re about to collapse to your knees, where did your strength go? Your eyes widened in realisation when you realised what was happening.

You can’t do it. Your legs won’t move, they’re shaking as if they’re trying to move, but can’t for some invisible wall. You can’t seem to get your voice to work either, it feels as if it’s wrapped itself inside your throat like a coil. Come on, just move! Now’s the perfect chance to try and do something! Are you scared of the fact that a few other harbingers may be watching? Or is it something else?

You looked around the room quickly, feeling a sickly heat wave over your head. You couldn’t tell whether you were crying from disgust or fear. Why is it, when you just need to do something, does your body freeze like this? Is something wrong with you? Surely it isn’t normal to just freeze, when people are scared you usually see them run - not stand like a deer in headlights!

Realising how awkward and how hard it would be to explain yourself if someone saw you in this state, you went to a random corner of the shop and tried to calm yourself down.

“Helloooo?~” Rora called out, stepping out of the staff room with Arlecchino trailing behind her.

“Where areeee youuu? We’re finished, and I need a second opinion!”

You sighed, giving your eyes one more wipe then rubbing your hands as if you were drying them under a hand dryer.

“I’m here, just looking at this collection of… jeans.” You lied, not being able to keep your voice cheery, instead it came off as a dejected unnatural tone.

Walking over to the two after a deep breath, you saw Arlecchino dressed in an entirely different outfit than her usual one. She was wearing a clean white blouse with long sleeves, the blouse tucked in a pair of black jeans with a chain connecting her back pocket to a section on her belt. There was a tie wrapped around her collar, descending down and resting above her chest.

She stood tall, a blazer slung over her shoulder rather than around her body. Not going to lie, she looks amazing, and strangely sexy in a way… Her modelling a tomboy outfit like this reminds you of a fanart you saw once, which you definitely didn’t spam a certain copypasta on… ANYWAY—

Your point is she looks great, Rora really knows her stuff.

“Well?~ From your stunned expression, I can tell I really hit the mark with this one! It’s targeted for office girlies who want to dress differently, but still classy. Non-gender specific and of course, fab-ul-ous!” She stepped beside the harbinger leaning a certain way and spreading her hands out dramatically.

“What do you think, Arlette? Is it comfortable? Is there something you would change?”

Arlecchino looked down at herself, judging her appearance with lidded eyes. After a short pause, she nodded and looked back at the designer.

“I like it. It’s comfortable, and the stitching is beautiful. Sometimes the most basic of outfits can make the boldest statements.”

“Exactly! I knew you’d get me!” Rora cheered. “And my, my! It’s not everyday somebody notices my trademark stitching. You have perceptive eyes!”

“Trademark? Does that mean you sew all these clothes yourself?” You gaped, not believing a word you’re hearing.

“Mhmm. I hate the idea of allowing a machine to create my clothes for me. I want to spread my passion and ideas sustainably, not mass-produce them in a factory without a care in the world. The idea makes my heart wrench!” She comedically weeped.

“Actually… To be fair, that’s actually why a lot of the shelves are still empty. Turns out managing a shop in a busy shopping centre like this takes a lot of work - especially when it’s just you. A lot of the time, when something is bought out it takes me months to refill the aisle back to how it once was. It’s difficult… but, I love it.”

“Wow…” You felt your eyes glistening. “Environmentally aware and sustainable? Rora, I might be your newest biggest fan! I’ll be honest, I thought you were just a massive Pinterest fan.”

“Ahah! I get that a lot!” She giggled into her hand.

“You wouldn’t happen to do custom designs, would you?”

“I haven’t thought about it. Buuuut, considering I’m running a little bit low on funds, I would love the idea if you had something in mind?” She thought to herself, encouraging the thought.

“Sorry, but it’ll have to be another day. My funds aren’t the best either at the moment. I’ll definitely keep the thought there though, if you’ll do the same?”

“Of course!” She gave a thumbs up. “Anyway… Whaddya think? You’ve had a look at one of my simpler designs, and I think you fit the image I had in mind perfectly! Your friend seems to agree also!”

Arlecchino stared at you for a few seconds before brushing a strand of hair out of her face and looking away.

“I’ll take the job.”

“Yippee! Welcome aboard, Arlette!” Rora jumped up and down, unable to control her excitement. Everybody else in the shop awkwardly applauded after being spooked by the sudden noise, not looking surprised in the slightest. It seems Rora getting excited is a usual occurrence…

“Alright-y then! Hmm, let’s see… we’ll discuss contracts and serious stuff tomorrow when you come in for your first official day… for now I guess I can ask whether you’d be okay with restocking shelves and helping me manage the till?”

“Hm? I thought I was simply modelling?” Arlecchino wondered out loud. “It is not a problem, I thought it would just be my image that’s being used.”

“You see, having someone monitoring the shop would give me more time to work on clothes and research. It could possibly get the shop running smoother and make business quicker.” She clicked her fingers.

“And besides, you seem like the thorough type. If someone tried to steal from the shop, I know you would chase them down instantly!”

Pfft, yeah, you can see her doing that alright.

“I appreciate the honest thoughts.” Arlecchino nodded appreciatively. “Would I be paid a higher amount?”

“Why, of course! I can see your added efforts would boost productivity which in turn could increase products being bought. When that increases, I’ll be sure to pay you more.”

“Then I see no issue with our arrangement.” She sighed, eyes shutting harshly when hearing Rora squeal in excitement again.

Oh dear, this is going to be a long day.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... …

“Aaaaand that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for this!” Rora clapped, thanking Arlecchino with a thumbs up and a cheer.

“That was… suspiciously easy.” Arlecchino mumbled her thoughts. “Your Kamera equipment took less than a minute to set up.”

“Well, yeah, duh? Hey, is your friend always like this?” Rora turned to you.

“Something like that…” You coughed into your hand, avoiding eye contact. “Anyway we should be heading out, it’s getting late and I’m hungry.”

“Before you go!” Rora ran behind the till, scrambling to pick up a few notes before running back to the two of you and handing them out. “Here, I’d be a bad boss if I didn’t pay you fairly for today’s work. We got around 12 outfits for my website, so this amount should be alright. Do you have any complaints?”

Any complaints… ANY COMPLAINTS!? She’s given her way too much, no wonder she’s having some financial troubles! Buuut, you are in need of some money… Okaaay, you’ll be a bit greedy and let it slide this time. But when Arlecchino’s next pay-day comes around you’ll definitely say something to protect Rora’s business - being too kind might be her downfall. If only you knew how right you were in saying that.

Arlecchino looked to you, clueless with the money she gratefully took from her new boss. You nodded, smiling as normally as you could, eyeing her as she folded it and stuffed the notes in her pocket.

“I will see you tomorrow.” Arlecchino waved slowly, grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the shop with her.

“Wai– Arlecc– I mean, Arlette, let me say goodbye too!” You struggled to speak, fumbling due to being lurched forward to match her strides.

“Bye Rora!”

She simply waved back, a gentle smile on her face as she eyed the two of you leaving her shop like a herd of elephants. Her smile dropped, her arm going back down to her side as she turned to the other customers in the shop.

“Ladies, you wouldn’t have happened to feel… something wrong there, would you?”

The two girls looked at each other, one looking clueless whilst the other nodded, agreeing without words.

“I didn’t see anything, they just looked like two normal people to me.”

“No, there was a threat of intimidation with your new worker.” The other thought out loud. “It’s hard to explain, but I get what you mean by feeling something wrong. The person with her looked like they were about to burst into tears at one point - hell, they were wandering around the store aimlessly when they weren’t at her side.”

“Huh? But if something was wrong, why wouldn’t they have just… I don’t know, passed us a note if they couldn’t say anything?”

“No. I don’t think they could.” Rora interrupted her. “Did the two of you hear their name, by chance? It’s almost as if Arlette was making sure that question wouldn’t come up, when she was talking the conversation always felt controlled.”

“Okay, even I don’t know what you’re referring to here.” The intelligent girl with the headband said. “If anything, Arlette didn’t speak very much. It was almost as if she was clueless about the whole thing, maybe that’s why she brought her friend?”

“Hmm… Wait, we really didn’t hear her friend’s name! I wonder why they didn’t introduce themself. Oh, speaking of suspicions… Now that I’m thinking about it, did anyone find it weird how they were wrapped head to toe in scarves and coats? They must have been boiling, I don’t think they would have chosen to leave the house like that…”

“That’s true. In fact, now that I’m thinking about their appearance also, I don’t think I could mention a single unique characteristic of theirs at all. If they ever entered the shop without all the coats and scarves, I don’t think I’d be able to recognise them unless they spoke.”

“I’m going to find out everything when Arlette returns tomorrow.” Rora looked determined, turning around back to the till. “Something just doesn’t feel right. I’m sure it’s nothing, and we’re just looking too deep into things, but I think it would be wise to ask more personal questions tomorrow.” 

“Good idea.” The girl in the headband agreed. “Would you like me to also be there tomorrow? There’s strength in numbers.”

“Yes please.” Rora’s face turned serious. “I could use all the help I can get right now. Say, ‘Lils’, you coming in tomorrow too?”

“Of course, girlhood is girlhood after all! We have to stay toge–” She flinched, running up to the window without warning and looked around. She looked back to the other two giving her a suspicious look. “Sorry, I thought I felt something weird. Must be all the creepy talk.”

“...Damn it, Knave. It hasn’t been a day and you’re already garnering suspicion.” Scaramouche whispered to himself in frustration, looking through the window carefully once the girl turned her head.

He sighed, moving away from the window to tail both you and Arlecchino. It seems his presence was needed here after all, the Knave didn’t warn him wrong. He has to give her credit, unlike some of the morons he’s been forced to come here with, everything she planned has indeed come true. He thought this outing would be useless, that it was a waste of time, but it ended up being useful and that’s all he could care about. What to do about those three though? It would be far too dangerous to let them live, especially considering they were onto her. What’s more important to him is this sudden interest in The Decider. In his opinion, they’re becoming far too curious. He would rather them stay entirely clueless.

“Hey, Arlecchino? Now that you’ve been paid… could we plea–”

“No.” She cut you off, placing her hand over her pocket so you couldn’t snatch the money inside. “We are not buying stupid things, we finally have money that you’ve been complaining for. I will not let you waste it.”

“But… But it’s a tradition I have!” You complained.

“Tradition?” She raised her eyebrow, not looking impressed.

“Yeah!! Whenever my mother and I come to the shopping centre, we always stop by a chocolate shop and treat ourselves.”

“What a stupid tradition.” She muttered under her breath.

“Come on, pleeeaaaseee? You’re a ‘Father’, you should know when to treat your children!” You tried to convince her, trying to use puppy eyes with your hands clasped together.

“Don’t try to convince your perfectly fine brain with your own stupidities.” She glared at you. “You are not a child of mine, and you never will be, so end that thought whilst it’s still alive.”

The two of you walked in silence after that, the occasional puppy eyes from you and a heightened glare in return from her. Scaramouche looked on from behind incredulously, mouth threatening to gape open in disbelief. Is he seeing this right, the Knave is tolerating your begging? Not to mention, her facade is definitely dropping. He can’t remember the last time he saw her like this without lashing out in a violent rage.

Before long, the two three of you found yourselves at the front of a shop. You stopped, looking up at her confused, until you realised which shop she stopped the two of you at.

“Arle— You didn’t!” You beamed at her in excitement. No way, she remembered which shop you were looking at the longest on your way to Rora’s shop!? So, she really did care about what you were thinking earlier!

“Pick what you want, and get something for myself also. I am trusting you to get something cheap and delectable, if I dislike what you give me I’ll tell the others not to consider letting you out of the house ever again.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You ran up to her, wrapping your arms around her tense body. You hugged her tight, smiling widely before letting go and grabbing her hand.

“I’m going to give you a tour of the entire shop so you can make your choice, trust me, you have an expert over here!”

“Ah…” Arlecchino looked away for a moment, the only evidence of her mood being her eyes shining more than usual. “Alright.” She nodded, a twinge of embarrassment showing.

Scaramouche felt his jaw drop, his incredulous expression from before leaking out in the shop like incense. Is he… Is he seeing this right?

Hoh, this will be interesting…

Helloooo! Nice to see everyone before another 6 months have passed. I'm hoping to be more consistent now that studies have become less important for this next year. Still important but my procrastination to do other things has no limit.

Just because I said I feel more motivated to get out of bed every morning in my Christmas message doesn't mean I've changed as a person lol

Please don't expect too many happy, nice and generally fluffy scenes.

This is Yandere, a genre which should never, under any circumstance be considered normal. It's abusive, unhealthy and leads to a lot of victims facing awful conditions which they never should or ever have to endure no matter who they are.

This is fiction that I'm writing, meaning it's all taken light-heartedly IN A FICTIONAL SENSE.

If anyone, by chance, is currently in conditions where a loved-one or yourself has suddenly become distant and/or being hurt when away from eyes please get help. Talk to them, or if it's you, talk to someone you know you can trust.

If you can't talk to anyone, find authorities who can help you. Call 999, as it is in the U.K, or your local emergency service. They will always help you, and will never deny your rights or freedom.

Thanks for reading this, I hope all who's reading knows this information already, but I thought I'd include it since who knows when it comes to where you are in the world and whether your education programs taught critical information like this.

✨Elusive✨ Taglist!:

@valeriele3 @pale-value @pix-stuff @yumi-genshin-writer @yuii-v @itz-luna @annoying-mary @etherisy @khalhaimdad @haikyuusboringassmanager @magica-ren @sweatyexpertdeputyduck @booksandteaplusart @9140 @whatamidoing89 @raesleepyhead @nasidibakar @shikanosn @purpleamethystsblog @chihawari @esthelily @stuffyfrenchflowers @conspicuous-mayonnaise @sielt @katsumikumo @greyhoundwires707 @carminerin @raidendeeznuts123 @angelofdarkness2 @shellofthewell @ginnxy-galaxy @clara-maddenlin @bk-4-trash-fire @uniqaal @tnsophiaonly @vianitry @dottoreandcolumbinaslovechild @melou008 @lsleepysimpl @steadybreadbluebird @thebigkessydisaster @eliciana @kamit-frog @twst-kumi @idk098 @kurayamioterasu @mmeatt @the-lazy-perfectionist @florelll @vvzhyxx @averycuriousperson @starlaisopaque @liyuedragonmorax @lovelive-animequeen1029 @mayythammyy @eirly-morning-tea @rainejiang

Quick Reminder Here! If you no longer want to be on the taglist that's completely fine; I take no offence whatsoever so please don't hesitate to tell me. ^^

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

QUICK GET THIS TRENDING ON EVERY SITE EVER MADE AND MAKE IT A DRAW THE SQUAD/YOUR OTP TEMPLATE WHILE YOU'RE AT IT

[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[goldfades]

We need more devin please 🥹, also i was wondering if i could request newly engaged y/n (with devin) tried to hide the ring but fans and medias noticed it anyways when she supported him at games 🤔

ooouu i love this concept sm!! i hope you enjoy<3

THE SUNS' BIGGEST WIN? DEVIN BOOKER’S MYSTERY RING SPARKS ENGAGEMENT RUMORS

It started with a photo. A blurry courtside shot of you, mid-cheer, mid-laugh—your hands lifted in excitement as Devin sank a three. The photo wasn’t even that high quality. A little grainy, slightly out of focus. But the internet didn’t need much.

Because there it was. The glint. The unmistakable flash of something on that finger.

At first, it was just a few tweets. Fans zooming in, speculating, debating whether it was just another accessory or the accessory. But then the sports blogs picked it up. Then the gossip accounts. And suddenly, within hours, your name was trending right under Devin’s stat line for the night.

You hadn’t planned on people finding out like this.

You had been careful.

Or, at least, you thought you had been.

When Devin slid the ring onto your finger, when he kissed you slow and grinned against your lips like he had just won something bigger than any championship, you had told yourself you’d keep it quiet. Just for a little while. Keep it yours. Just between you and him, in that little bubble of happiness that didn’t need cameras or commentary.

But, apparently, the universe had other plans.

And now, sitting on your couch with your phone lighting up every other second, you could feel Devin watching you from the other end of the sectional, his long legs stretched out, his arm draped lazily over the backrest.

“So,” he finally said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Wanna tell me why you’ve been staring at your phone like it personally betrayed you?”

You let out a slow breath, tossing your phone onto the cushion next to you. “The internet is loud.”

Devin smirked. “And?”

“And they noticed the ring.”

That made his grin widen. “Took ‘em long enough.”

You shot him a look. “You’re not helping.”

“What?” He shrugged, completely unbothered. “We knew they were gonna find out eventually.”

“Yeah, eventually. Not because of some half-blurry courtside picture.”

Devin let out a soft chuckle, shifting slightly so he was angled more toward you. “You mad about it?”

You hesitated. “No.”

And you weren’t. Not really. It was just... surreal. Seeing people dissect something so personal, something that was still so new, still sinking in.

“Good,” Devin murmured, reaching out to tug you closer. You let yourself lean into him, your back against his chest, his arm wrapping around your waist. “’Cause I don’t really feel like pretending I’m not crazy about you.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips anyway. “You’re so annoying.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss against your shoulder. “Yeah, but I’m your fiancé.”

Your stomach did a little flip at the word. Fiancé.

Yeah. The internet could have their moment. Because at the end of the day, this? This was yours.

[laylasverse]

BETTER REALITY ᰋ COUPLE!TIKTOK TRENDS duke's next star point guard and the internet's favorite crash-out have been posting each other on their separate tiktok accounts for the past two and half years. here's the highlights!

﹫ laylamuls

we listen and we don't judge where i confessed to stalking his mom's facebook before we got together. i still have the baby pictures in my phone. he confessed to pretending to say the most absurd shit while playing his games just to see if i'll say anything. " i'm getting banged, shit! yea, he's comin'. "

bicep picture trend the trend where people copy poses on snapchat. used it to get a picture of flexing his bicep. except i blurred the pic of jason's arm when i posted it on tiktok just to make people mad.

can you watch my boyfriend for a second? we were at some movie premiere and i left jason alone with my phone while i went to the bathroom. he sat in silence and stared into the camera when he realized it was recording. he didn't blink for a minute straight so now he gets robot allegations.

penis game we and my friends were playing the penis game in a parking lot. i turned it on jason when he said it the loudest. " jason! why would you say that? there's families around! "

﹫ jasonntodd

current partner jason acted like we were filming a video about us going to the park. i agreed because jason had tripped over a stick and fell on his face. but he started the video with "my current girlfriend." i immediately clocked it because what do you mean current?? we've been together for three years and you're gonna say current girlfriend??????????

orange peel we were hanging out at his parents house when he pulled the "i don't wanna peel an orange but i still want one" on me. i was in my pajamas, eyes glued to the zombie game on my ipad as i peeled two oranges 'cause i wanted one too. i am unfortunately an ipad kid . . .

moon river and me on a random thursday he posted a slideshow of us to frank ocean's moon river. everyone was confused why he was posting it without it being our anniversary or my birthday or something. guess he just fws with me fr.

﹙ back to the circus ﹚

[em-harlsnow]

heyy i've never sent an ask before but i just need to tell you that debbie's tiktok is my new favourite thing 😭😭 i genuinely can't stop thinking about them doing different trends and how the fans would react. like imagine a qna with questions from the comments or something with more of the family like a who knows me best: brother/sister vs husband

YES okay. I've been stressed all day and I need this. (Also rewarding myself with writing because I got a result back for some coursework and I was so happy with it)

part 4 of Debbie's TikTok

So Debbie sets up the camera again in the kitchen. Ian and Mickey are less annoyed this time after they realised that she was actually paying them good money for this. She has a list on her phone filled with comments on the introduction to Mickey video.

"Okay, so you're gonna be answering some questions together." Debbie starts. It's the first time the internet will be seeing them together, and she's eager to see the reaction that will come of it. She's going to be careful not to give her audience too much of them, because then she'll get less views and attention and therefore money after they get bored.

"Yeah, you said that." Mickey says.

"She's saying it for the camera." Ian mutters loudly to his husband.

"Alright. I have a list of some of the most liked or most frequent questions asked. The first one is when did you get married?" Debbie asks, ignoring their little comments.

Mickey stares at the side of Ian's head, eyebrows raised.

"What?" Ian asks.

"You better fucking know the answer." Mickey says.

"Of course I do, asshole. Three and a half months ago." Ian answers, smugly grinning in Mickey's face.

"Yep." Debbie says. "It was a really nice day. Next, who proposed to who?" One of the most frequent comments was actually who fucks who, but she doesn't think that's something that should be on the internet. She thinks it's shitty that people think they have the right to know that. She's actually pretty mad that she knows the answer to the question, because it just shows how loud Ian and Mickey are.

"He did." Mickey says. "Because he was being a dick."

Ian sighs. "Yeah, I did."

"Twice." Mickey adds, sulkily.

"We're married, Mickey. And I know you aren't actually still mad about that. You're just looking for something to bitch about." Ian grumbles, flicking Mickey's ear.

"No, I'm not."

"I proposed. And I had a whole speech prepared, but Mickey cut me off. Then he made me repeat it later." Ian says, smiling at the tips of his mouth.

Mickey smirks, leaning back in his chair. He's switched to smug, now. "Yeah."

"Next question was how old were you when you got together?" Debbie asks, planning on letting them have their little arguments and banter and deciding which parts to cut out later. Their dynamic will definitely give her good content.

"I was fifteen." Ian says. "You were... sixteen? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen." Mickey answers. "But that was the first time we fucked, not when we were together."

"Oh, well yeah." Ian agrees. "We were like 18 and 19 or something when we actually got together."

"Yeah." Mickey agrees.

"Okay. So, who's more romantic?" Debbie asks. It's not a particularly long list, but they both talk a lot, so it will make a decent video.

"I am." Ian says.

"Neither of us." Mickey says at the same time.

"I'm romantic." Ian argues, pouting about it.

"How?"

"I made you breakfast yesterday."

"Then you called me fat when I stole your PopTart." Mickey mutters.

"I did not fucking call you fat. I called you greedy, because you were being greedy." Ian says, appalled and gaping at Mickey.

"Maybe you were being greedy by not sharing your fucking PopTarts." Mickey pouts.

"I'm plenty romantic, Mickey. I arrange all our things."

"What things?"

"Like going on dates and shit. I arrange that."

"Yeah? Well I suck your monster dick all the time, so shut the fuck up."

"That's not romantic!" Ian shouts.

"Yes it is! It's something you fucking like. It's 'acts of service'." Mickey replies, eyebrows high on his forehead.

"You read that article I sent you? About love languages?" Ian asks, losing focus on the argument. It's not even an argument, anyway, considering neither of them are raising their voices.

Mickey shrugs. "I skimmed it."

Ian smiles at him. "Thanks."

"Fuck you." Mickey mutters, rolling his eyes when Ian puts his arm around his shoulder.

Debbie scrolls to the next question. "What's the key to having a solid relationship?" She asks.

Mickey grimaces and Ian gives a similar expression.

"Fucking a lot?" Mickey suggests.

"Shut up." Ian says, rolling his eyes. "We don't just fuck."

"We do fuck a lot, though."

"Not all the time." Ian says, widening his eyes at Mickey like he's trying to communicate without speaking. Debbie knows enough about them to tell that it's probably something to do with Ian's bipolar. How when he's low, they don't fuck at all. Or at least Debbie hopes they don't fuck at all. She knows Mickey, knows Mickey would definitely not do that.

Mickey sighs, losing the unspoken argument. "Yeah, fine. We don't just fuck."

Ian turns back to Debbie. "I don't know. There's no key. We just look after each other. We're good at telling each other when we're pissed off."

"Yeah." Mickey agrees, not having much to add.

"The next one's pretty deep, so if you don't want to answer it you don't have to. Or I don't have to put it in the video. But it's for Mickey. One person DMed me and asked how you cope as a partner of someone with bipolar disorder. They said they were struggling." Debbie says, a little embarrassed to be asking so she keeps her eyes down. A couple people DMed her about it.

Ian scoffs a little at the word 'cope', but ultimately stares at Mickey and waits for his answer. Clearly more concerned with what Mickey thinks about it more than the implications of the question.

"How do they know he's bipolar?" Mickey asks, brows furrowed.

"Because his arrest was all over the news." Debbie replies. "I haven't spoken about it on TikTok."

"Oh. I don't know." Mickey replies. "It's not... I dunno. It's just something that's there. It's never been a question for me, we just deal with whatever fucking happens with it. It's like, everyone has some kind of shit. I'll cope with whatever I fucking have to."

"Do you want that online?" Debbie asks. "It's fine if not."

Mickey shrugs, looking to Ian. Ian seems a bit choked.

"Yeah, that's fine. People should probably hear more about mental illness and being happy." Ian says, but his arm around Mickey is strong and tight.

"Okay, well that's the only heavy one. The next one was pretty common: why did it take you ten years to get married? Oh, I guess that is sort of heavy." Debbie says.

Ian bobs his head in consideration. "Well, we were pretty young when we started. Then someone got sent to prison for a little while."

Mickey tuts at him. "False fucking accusations." He mutters. "But it was mainly prison. And my dad."

"Yeah." Ian agrees. "Mickey's dad's a prick. I hate the bastard."

"Oh, no. You've been so subtle about it." Mickey mutters sarcastically.

"It's not like you like my dad any better."

"Are you guys affectionate? A lot of people couldn't imagine you being together or like... couple-y, I guess." Debbie says. "But maybe they won't think that now that they see you together."

"What the fuck does that even mean?" Mickey asks.

"We're married. Obviously we're couple-y." Ian scoffs.

"Do something couple-y then." Debbie orders.

"His arm's around my fucking shoulders. Wouldn't let anyone else do that gay shit." Mickey says, and Ian laughs.

That's great, Debbie decides. Viewers will find that funny. She clicks off the camera and lets them go, starting the editing on the video. She definitely wants to make more content of them in the future. She's planning a video with the whole family, actually, but it will be hard to get everyone free and actually make them all speak one at a time.

-> part 1, part 2, part 3

-> sorry this one's a bit shorter, but if anyone has any ideas for what questions they'd be asked or any comments which people would leave, send me an ask!

[scumvsss]

Give me an angry Shen Yuan. Not "protectively and selflessly angry" but rather so angry that the internet troll with countless filthy curses turns silent and has the most acidic glare and heaviest aura of sheer negativity.

We all know he's a Luo Binghe apologist thru and thru but come on. Shen Yuan obviously disagreed with a lot of LBH's choices!

I want Shen Yuan finding out about some shit LBH pulled and then he gets so mad about it. For all crying and begging Luo Binghe has done, Shen Yuan has never actually ever directed any REAL negativity on him.

Maybe some sort of demonic holocaust LBH did because they were rebelling? Peak Lords YQY, MQF, SQH could visit the bamboo house bc its actually quite concerning bc this particular tribe was providing valued materials or something.

It starts out calm, Shen Qingqiu (SY) greeting them calmly and offering tea. He's wondering why the sudden visit but was not rlly worried bc its not like it's rare for his martial brothers to barge in his house.

Then they tell him that an entire demonic tribe was razed to the ground recently. And they were gonna ask him if he knows possible alternatives to them but THEN. BUT THEN.

Yue Qingyuan clams up. Shang Qinghua freezes, all fight or flight instincts going haywire. Mu Qingfang immediately hides his hands in his sleeves, reaching for his needles.

Because Shen Qingqiu's eyes have narrowed, the usual jade green sharping into vile neon shade. He hasn't said anything. His cup of tea is carefully set down on its saucer, the faint porcelain clank deafening in the tension.

"Luo Binghe." His voice is calm, but there is an almost choked quality to it obviously belying an undercurrent of storm.

Luo Binghe, standing to side, near the kitchens where he's been scowling at the unwanted visitors, feels his heart lurch. He freezes too.

"...Shizun?"

"The hex-fox are known for being an isolationist race. They keep to themselves. They are reasonable. Fascinating creatures, if I must say so. Did you know that they are closely related with Huli-jings?"

Shen Qingqiu watches the idle wave on the surface of his tea.

"Well?"

"...Answering Shizun, they are crafty and poses an immense threat with their mastery over curses. They wouldn't hesitate to target anyone-" (target YOU, goes unsaid but so heavily implied) "-to gain an advantage and so this disciple decided they must be remo-"

A crack of porcelain interrupts whatever else Luo Binghe could've said. In Shen Yuan's grip, the teacup is beyond salvage, its content staining the wooden table.

"Is that so."

Shang Qinghua dares not breathe too loud. He desperately wishes he can just leave right now!

"Where have you relocated their children, then? The elders? The non-combatants?"

There was no forthcoming answer.

"Because it sounds to this Master as if there's no one left?" Shen Yuan finally moves. His head lifts, his eyes meet wide black gaze. He can see the panic, the worry, the guilt (oh but its not because of what he did, is it?) in those starry eyes.

"I- This one- Shizun...?"

Shen Yuan stands. The motion, while still graceful, is stilted. His hand comes down too firmly on the table when he supported his weight on it, and his eyes never leaves his husband. He takes half a step towards LBH-

"Leave us."

The three forgotten Peak Lords startle. They share an unsure glance with each other.

Shen Qingqiu's glare flashes to them at the audacious hesitance and immediately the three are in a flurry. Standing in haste and all but rushing out. Shang Qinghua and Mu Qingfang grabs the sect leader when it looked like he was about to open his mouth.

The bamboo hut's door slams shut.

Outside, the three Peak Lords loiter awkwardly for a few moments-

And then they hear a loud echoing slap.

And now they're loitering with wide eyes flicking to each other and to the door and before they can even decide what to do-

They hear a thunderous "Kneel." immediately followed by an unmistakable slamming of knees on wooden floor and.

Nope. They're out of there. They didn't hear anything.

[artyphex]

I think the other thing that confuses me about people being mad about Stolitz getting together is that, other than it being very stagnant storytelling if they didn’t, wouldn’t them NOT getting together be like, the WORST case of queerbaiting???

Like NO ONE can convince me that the show would be better received, or be of better quality, if it took the direction of: “oh look this same-sex couple has fucked MULTIPLE TIMES but noooo it’s not serious, it’s just business, they don’t care about each other at ALL they’re just the weird gays that fuck with no feelings because they’re just horny and weird hahaha”

I swear if it did, it would have gotten destroyed online for being homophobic, but I GUESS people have forgotten how infuriating queerbaiting is because Vivziepop-BAD or whatever the fuck???

I don’t think it would be queerbaiting exactly, as two men explicitly having sex is undoubtedly queer, it just would have played into. A lot of tropes about queerness that aren’t great. Such as it being more sexual, less loving, all those things.

True queer romance is still more rare in fiction than a lot of people realize. Mainstream fiction anyway. While sexualized queerness and the taboo nature of it is shown more often. Half the people complaining about Stolitz are a hairs breadth from just straight up saying “Gay sex is funny, gay ROMANCE is cringe”

I’m serious. I see so many people saying “VivziePop pivoted the focus on her show for her toxic yaoi 🙄” when the reality is she just had an. Arc that focused on romance. An incredibly normal thing in every show ever. But it’s queer this time, and that means it’s not just a romance, it’s VivziePop fetishizing men, it’s her being obsessed with shipping, it’s her choosing her toxic yaoi over the shows plot. Nevermind that Brandon Rogers is the whole reason Stolitz is a thing. It’s all HER

One day I swear to god I’m gonna make a video essay about how fucking weird the internet is about VivziePop and the Hellverse. I haven’t ever seen anything quite like it. It’s wrapped up in so much misogyny and homophobia that people just. Ignore. For the sake of self-gratifying hate. It’s kinda disturbing