#and they said it like it was actual advice

[dronningreid]

Between letters.

When reader has been acting weird lately, Reid thinks she's going to break up with him but she's actually terrified because she has to give him some life-changing news.

who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

category: angst/fluff

warnings: Reid is hopeless, reader is a little mean because she doesn't know how to deal with the stress of her secret. Both must work on their communication. English is not my first language (if i forget something let me know, this is my first time doing this)

word count: 2.6K

a/n: Hello! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read what i wrote with so much love. I have written books, stories, poems but never a fanfic and i must admit that i enjoyed this a lot. Well, without further ado i hope you enjoy this and let me know if you liked it.

It is said that we should wait for good things. But it is so difficult to wait for them when we find ourselves in such a deep abyss, where we believe that the only thing we need is that warm ray of joy to get us out of the pond, to save us from dying in agony.

Spencer needed that warm ray of joy after Maeve's death. He desperately needed to feel alive again, but he had to wait what seemed like an eternity for you to come into his life.

Yet every devastating event like that leaves wounds that bleed into scars, some take perhaps too long and as the blood pours out, it destroys hope.

That's what happened to Reid. Because the day Maeve died, his hopes of having a wife and children, of having a family, died with her…

You came along a couple of years later. You admit that winning Spencer over was something that took time, it was slow but it was worth every second.

You were also thankful that he wasn't like the other jerks you dated before, who thought you would die for them just because you were the one who made the first move.

And that was the difference between you and Spencer. You never let that get you down, you kept trying until you found the one. Who knew it would be someone with three PhDs? Your trusted tarot reader, duh. But you didn't believe it, the guy seemed too perfect to be real.

But there he was, spinning around in his swivel chair when you first walked into the BAU bullpen.

"Who is he?" you asked with a curiosity you hadn't experienced in years.

"Oh, that's Spencer. One of our resident geniuses." The sweet Penelope Garcia cleared up your doubts.

The name tasted so sweet on your lips, it sounded so right. That was the day you decided he would be for you.

Spencer.

Well no, he actually thought you were a little crazy for staring at him so intently from a distance. And he thought you were weird, but he was too so it just made both fit together like puzzle pieces.

Of course you needed some extra help. You were trying to win over someone who hadn't dated in a long time and was also a bit reserved. Luckily for you, Morgan's advice scared him off so you followed JJ's, although it also helped that he was definitely mhm curious? about you.

The relationship seemed to be going great, both loved each other and he couldn't imagine his life without you. But if Spencer Reid had learned something in his life, it was that happiness lasts much less time than pain.

You were acting a little weird around him lately, you were irritable and he definitely knew you were hiding something.

"I think she's going to break up with me." One day he decided to confess his feelings to Morgan, when they were alone in the conference room.

Morgan frowned and dropped the current case file onto the table. “You’re kidding, right?” But with no response, Morgan knew otherwise. "Reid. She loves you so much it makes me a little sick.”

Reid remained with his worried expression. "She's slow to respond to my texts, she avoids me, and there's definitely something she's not telling me.” He counted your recent actions on his fingers before crossing his arms.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Don't tell me you're profiling her."

Reid frowned. "What? Of course not." Yeah, that means of course yes.

Morgan shrugged. "Just talk to her or ask the girls, they should know something." This time he gave some good advice, not like the ones he used to give you.

Reid did as Morgan told him, but absolutely no one knew what was going on with you. Although everyone agreed that you were definitely hiding something.

You took a sip of coffee. "I watched that movie last night. People said it was really funny but I found it boring, although I admit the plot twist made me cry.” Yes, lately many things made you cry and it wasn't because of your moon in Pisces.

Anderson nodded. "Exactly! I couldn't even finish watching. I fell asleep."

“Anderson, would you excuse us for a minute?" Reid's appearance was a surprise, his insistence on talking to you wasn't.

"Of course, see you later." Then once Anderson left, Reid stood in front of you.

"What's wrong?" He got straight to the point, not like the previous times.

"Me? Nothing's wrong, I'm perfectly fine." But the drumming of your fingers on your coffee glass gave you away.

"Oh, of course." He crossed his arms, oh no, it seems his infinite patience turned out to be finite.

You immediately took a defensive stance. "Yes. I was perfectly fine before you came to interrupt my conversation with Anderson."

"About movies?" He didn't say it, but you knew he thought it was a nonsense, at least now that he was definitely irritated.

“Yes!" Your outburst earned you a few glances from the other agents. But both were too wrapped up in the tense conversation to deal with them.

"Sure, you have time to talk to other people about movies, but you don't even say a damn good morning to me.” You had to be careful what you said, you were in unfamiliar territory now, as Reid didn't usually swear.

"You're overreacting." Yeah... That probably wasn't the most brilliant thing you've ever said, but you were trying not to give away your secret, at least not yet.

“Overacting?” He was offended by your words. “You talk to everyone in the building except me. You used to spend as much time with me as possible, did I do something wrong?” A hint of fear and insecurity crept into his annoyed tone.

You shook your head. “Of course not.”

He put his hand on your shoulder. “Then tell me what’s wrong.” His tone was firm, but not harsh. Although it was obvious that he wasn't making a request of you.

"Spencer, I already told you that nothing is wrong with me." You emphasized the nothing.

He exhaled in frustration, he was 90% sure that this would work. "Fine! Then don't tell me anything." His patience had run out and he wasn't going to beg you anymore. It had been a week like this and he couldn't take it anymore, so he let go of your shoulder and walked away without even looking at you or giving you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

Everything was dark, you reached for the light switch and then the spotlight illuminated your apartment. It was a less warm space without Spencer there.

You sighed before throwing your bag on the couch and closed the door.

You stood there for a couple of minutes staring at the lonely space. Well since you became Spencer Reid's girlfriend there weren't many lonely nights, mornings or afternoons.

You would definitely prefer him to be here right now, rambling or mumbling a foreign language movie to you. But for now you had to keep your secret, and that meant keeping Reid away.

The growl of your stomach snapped you out of your mind, so you headed straight for the fridge. But the smell of something made you nauseous, so you immediately ran to the bathroom to empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet.

Yes. You had to hurry to sweeten this horrible memory with a concerned Spencer who would hold your hair and rub your back while you threw up.

After dinner and take a warm shower, you were tired enough to do anything else, so you settled into bed to sleep. But your brain had other plans…

"You look... not very awake." Tara commented as soon as you dropped your coat on the back of your chair.

"I only slept three damn hours," you nearly growled before throwing yourself into the chair and running your hands over your face. You needed a liter of coffee.

Tara stopped typing on her computer and looked at you. "Is this something to do with your strange behavior the last week?" When she got no response, she said your name seriously.

You pulled your hands away from your face. “I…” you began to fiddle with the rings on your fingers, the burden of unspoken words beginning to weigh on your shoulders. "God, why does everyone suddenly care about my fucking life?" You opted for annoyance as the perfect disguise for your vulnerability.

"Hey. None of us want to bother you, but we care about your life because we are your friends and we love you." Tara used a serious tone, like a scolding, but there was genuine affection behind her words. "Besides, Reid is suffering because of your attitude."

A pang of guilt hit your chest. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You whispered.

“I know.” She walked over to your desk. “But you’re hurting him, even if you don’t mean to.”

You swallowed before looking up. "It's just that there's something..." You took a deep breath, this was harder than you thought. "Things are changing, things are definitely going to change if I say this, it's going to be real and I don't know how to feel about it. I need someone to tell me what to do, because I feel so lost."

Tara placed one of her hands over yours. "Well, if I'm going to help you, I need you to tell me what's wrong." Her voice was warm.

"I want Spencer to know first." But your half-hearted answer was enough for her to know.

"In that case you should tell him, because none of his PhDs include mind reading." She made a little joke that actually made you smile.

"Yeah, I know. He'll probably solve everything out like he always does." Then you looked straight at his empty desk, at the nameplate: Spencer Reid. "But I want to give him a surprise, something that will make him happy. I can't just walk up and say hey…” Then you forced yourself to close your mouth when you realized you were going to say more than necessary, although in reality Tara already had her suspicions.

"Okay, I'll help you." She sounded very determined and you really appreciated her help and that she wouldn't question you as much as the others.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You spun around in your chair and then had an epiphany, but not like the Taylor Swift song. "Crossword!" Your excitement got you the looks of several agents in the bullpen, luckily one of them was Tara.

"With a secret message?"

"Yes. It's literally the best way." You said excitedly.

But in your mind everything was easier than it really was.

You ruffled your hair as you forced yourself to think more, giving you a splitting headache. "When did I think this would be a good idea? Doing a crossword puzzle for the average person is easy, but not for a genius with an IQ of 187." You dropped your head onto your desk.

"You need help."

"But who's as smart as Spencer?" You muttered defeated, still with your head hidden between your arms and the wood of the desk.

Someone ruffled your hair. “Mhm. Tesla? Einstein?”

You immediately raised your head, only to see the famous Derek Morgan. “They’re dead.” You snorted.

Morgan raised his hands in peace. "Hey, what's the bad mood, baby girl? I just answered your question." He let out one of his signature laughs.

You rolled your eyes. You wished you could turn off some damn switch that was responsible for making you so easily angry. God, WHY? You were starting to get desperate.

"Blake!" Another epiphany, you were really on top of it. You didn't even explain it to Tara, you just ran to the parking lot to get your phone which you had forgotten in the car.

Alex Blake was happy to help you put together a crossword puzzle for Spencer. Although she warned you that he once solved one in about five minutes.

Yeah, well, you were going to take the risk.

Once the crossword puzzle with the secret message was ready, you set out to find Reid.

As you were leaving Garcia's office he was getting out of the elevator, but he didn't even notice you. He continued on his way and god, why did he look so attractive?

"Spencer." You caught up to him as he walked up the stairs.

"Not now, I'm busy." He replied with a seriousness not typical of him.

"With what?" You frowned.

"I said I'm busy." I didn't even look at you as he continued walking to the conference room.

You called out to him, but he ignored you. “We need to talk.” You said seriously, raising your voice.

He turned to look at you, with an expression that betrayed nothing of what he truly felt. "I said I'm busy, we'll talk later." That didn't convince you. “I have to do a geographic profile and you have to work on victimology like Hotch asked you to.”

He stopped in his tracks immediately, freezing halfway. He had never experienced anything like this before, but he knew well what we need to talk meant.

The end was near? You were beginning to doubt and he was very sure, only that he would delay it as much as he could.

∗⋅✧⋅∗

You were about to give up, but you really needed him to know. So you resorted to plan B.

"Derek Morgan, my favorite person in the world." You appeared in front of him, with a big smile.

Morgan let out a light laugh. "Yeah sure, what can I do for you, gorgeous?"

"I think Spencer is upset with me."

"He definitely is." He said it without hesitation and it definitely didn't help the state of your aching heart.

"Okay..." You handed him the crossword puzzle. "Could you please give him this for me?"

He picked up the crossword puzzle. "If you think he's going to forgive you for avoiding him for a week just by giving him a crossword puzzle that he'll finish in two seconds, you might be right."

"Just give it to her, okay?"

"Of course. But in exchange for Penelope being the godmother.”

You immediately frowned, but you reacted a little late because Morgan had already left to deliver your order.

From your desk you watched everything. From how Morgan entered the conference room to give Spencer the crossword puzzle to how the bastard answered it in five minutes. When it took you like three hours to do.

But the best part was when he realized the secret message and ran out of the conference room.

But when he saw you, his quickened steps took on a much, much slower pace.

"Tell me what's true." His low tone sounded like a plea.

A slight smile appeared on your face. "Yeah. That's why I've been acting weird, you know I can't keep secre-"

Your words were cut off when his lips met yours. In a kiss so sweet and soft that it was enough to dispel every single one of your doubts.

A few seconds later, he pulled away from the kiss, leaving you wanting more.

He caressed your cheek with his thumb. "You didn't have to do a crossword puzzle to tell me you were pregnant."

"I wanted to surprise you." You whispered.

A smile that could light up this whole town formed on his lips. "I love you so much." He then kissed you warmly again.

And so it was that the foundations that had crumbled with Maeve's death slowly re-emerged. They began to build themselves again with your arrival and now with this news, their foundations were stronger than ever, because at last he was going to have the family he had dreamed of for a tortuous time.

🏷️ @floraisunwell

[fallstheking]

loser!ellie college headcanons

ellie has a crush // pt 1 of ?

mdni

contains ; nothing but her being so down bad and having no game

• loser!ellie who expected to finish college as the only girl on the hockey team to never score (and she didn't mean points- she scored those.) (sometimes.)

• loser!ellie who first saw you in at a party that the hockey team dragged her to and abigail fucking anderson started talking about you and was about to go make a move and ellie freaked the fuck out and purposely spilled her drink on you just so she could pull you away from the crowd because oh my god you were so pretty it hurt her

• loser!ellie who you were absolutely pissed at for ruining your shirt but she smiled at you all sheepish and lopsided with those puppy dog eyes and you melted

• loser!ellie who invited you to her next game and when you showed up with her number painted on your cheek and cheered for her loud as fuck she nearly melted on the ice

• loser!ellie who got benched immediately because her head wasn't in the game

• loser!ellie who found out you worked at a campus cafe and started dragging jesse and dina all the way across campus with her every morning and was subsequently late for her first class every day

• loser!ellie who didn't realize you had written your number on her cup until she had already thrown it away and then dug it out of the trashcan in broad daylight

• loser!ellie who texted you immediately with a meme like this and completely forgot to say who she was (you knew)

• loser!ellie who thought you hated her because you just responded 'lmao' and proceeded to have an actual crisis over it

• loser!ellie who got a text from you four hours later that was a lot less dry and she realized oh you were probably just busy

• loser!ellie who found out you liked music and then did absolutely everything in her power to figure out what music you liked so she could learn it on guitar

• loser!ellie who lowk stalked you on instagram for weeks but waited for you to follow her first so she wouldn't seem like a weirdo

• loser!ellie who then immediately started posting memes like this on her story

• loser!ellie who oh my god oh my god you liked the stories oh my god

• loser!ellie who ahejeknjdjd you reposted them to your story ????

• loser!ellie who realized you hadn't missed a game since the first one she invited you to???

• loser!ellie who asked joel for advice lmao

so theres this girl i go to school with and

• dad!joel who laugh reacted the message (ellie would yell at her sister sarah for teaching him how to do that later)

• loser!ellie who finally got the nerve to ask you out and went into the coffee shop so confident and then saw you weren't working

hey ur not working this morning?

hi ellie !! no not today i'm sick

• loser!ellie who bought some premade soup and some peppermint tea and literally ran to your place (she has a car??)

• loser!ellie who asked you out while you were dying (a bit sick) of the plague (a cold) and it was her last chance (you would be back at work in 2 days) to profess her undying love (huge crush) on the fair maiden (cute barista) before her

• loser!ellie who short circuited when you said yes and just stared at you in unblinking silence for so long you had to call dina and jesse to come get her ass

• loser!ellie who didn't realize you had liked her back from the moment she smiled at you at that party

• loser!ellie who bragged to abby about bagging you

• loser!ellie who is never letting you go

first post completed! feels so good i hope u guys love it

[nathaslosthershit]

The Main Event (Multiple Pairings) Part 2

Part 2 to The Main Event. Also Part 8 in the Blind Items AU, but can be read as a standalone Summary: A wedding between Logan Sargeant and the youngest Leclerc child means a very interesting guest list, in which all previous victims of the F1 Blind Items account are included. A/N: This is part 2 to this fic! Because I only wanted it to be one fic, I am adding this section to the first part. Each pairing has a Blind Items backstory which is linked at the start of their section (You don't have to read the backstory, though) Multiple (separate) Pairings: Part 2 - Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader, Alexander Albon Part 1 - Logan Sargeant x Leclerc!reader Oscar Piastri x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Lance Stroll x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader

Alexander Albon

Things had been… awkward for Alex and his girlfriend the past few days. After what started off as an innocent inquiry from a friend about the couple's plans for marriage in conjunction with Alex’s attending the wedding of his teammate, it seemed like there were some conversations the two needed to be having.

They had been together for years, longer than the current bride and groom had known each other. Longer than a lot of couples either engaged, married, or with kids had been dating. 

But there was still no ring. 

It hadn’t been a problem before. They had talked about getting married, casually talked and joked about “when they had kids”. But those topics hadn’t been seriously considered for a while now. Like a hangnail that hurt every time it brushed against something, even though it would be so much better to just rip it off quickly and let it heal, neither Alex nor his girlfriend seemed to be able to broach the subject. 

They sat silently in the car, driving to the venue, painfully aware of what the other was thinking about. 

Did Alex not want to marry her? After so many years, maybe he just has never seen marriage as something he needed, plenty of couples decide not to get married. But wouldn’t he tell her if he didn’t want to ever be married, instead of letting her wait and wait and wait? Especially when he knew she wanted to get married- did he even know she wanted to get married? Did she even know if she wanted to get married? They lived together, their lives intertwined with one another, maybe they could just have a civil partnership. But that didn’t sound right in her mind. What if-

Her spiralling was interrupted when Alex turned on the radio, at full volume. Both wincing at the noise, he turned it down a little, letting the song fill the crisis filled air between the two. 

It helped a little, at least they could pretend they were both listening to the music instead of what they were actually doing, questioning their relationship. 

As the song ended, a radio talk show came on, one about elderly folks giving life advice. “Aw I love this, it always has sweet stories.” Alex said, trying to break the tension. 

“Here we have Violet with us! Now everyone, Violet got married for the first time about a year ago to her longtime partner, Vance. Both were 83 years old and had put it off for a long time, thinking they had been too old, but following a terminal diagnosis Vance was given, the two decided to go for it. Now a year later, Violet is here with her update. Violet, how are you doing today?” The host asked. The couple in the car stiffened, of course this is the topic. 

“I am doing well, thank you. Today is a special day, it would have been Vance’s 84th birthday, and I can say that while it is hard not to be with him, I have all my love for him and the love I knew he had for me to keep me going.”

“I am sorry to hear about his passing, Violet.” The host somberly said.

“Oh that is alright, I actually arranged to call back in because I recently received our wedding pictures, and looking at them reminded me I wanted to update the good folks that listen. While we knew Vance would pass soon after the wedding, I am so happy to have these photos to keep with me now that he is gone. We had written off marriage because we had both been ‘too old’ in our opinions. Neither of us had gotten married to our past partners before, so we didn’t feel the need now. While I don’t believe marriage is best for everyone, some folks just don’t need it, I can say for certain that being surrounded with family and loved ones as Vance and I celebrated our love, especially when we knew death would soon part us, I believe it was the greatest decision of my life. Vance knew I would be with him no matter how long he gave me, and that I would take on the grief if it meant I knew I truly loved and was loved. I really believed that comforted him in the end, and that alone comforts me. We were only married for about three months before he passed, but he will remain my husband till I eventually join him. And I couldn’t be happier for that.” Violet said, a mix of emotions filling her voice.

She turned off the radio before they could hear any more. 

Silence again filled the car- well apart from Alex’s sniffles. 

She turned to her boyfriend, who was driving while trying to wipe his tears without her seeing he was crying.

“Are- Alex are you okay?” she asked, concerned. 

“Yeah, no it's- yeah I'm good.” He unconvincingly replied. Suddenly, he slammed on the breaks, almost missing a stop sign, distracted by his tears. “Shit- I’m sorry I didn’t see-” 

She couldn't make out his words over the sobs. Fortunitally, he had enough of a sound mind to pull over before he could danger them more. 

Alex turned to his girlfriend abruptly, “I want to marry you. I want to marry you so badly and I know marriage has always been jokingly discussed between us, but I need to know you also want to marry me. I don’t want to wait till we are 83 and I am dying. I don’t want to wait another year, to be honest. So please just tell me if you aren’t-” She cut him off with a kiss, her own tears mixing with his. “Are you proposing?” She half-joke- half-sobbed. 

“Yes, fuck yes I am.” Instead of answering him, she just kissed him, again, just as passionately as the first. 

“We can’t tell Logan we got engaged the day of his wedding.”

Logan Sargeant

Bridesmaids on one side, Groomsmen on the other, the officiant and Logan in the middle.

Logan had memorized the order in which everything would go. He stood anxiously in front of a crowd of people, full of friends and family, as well as some of his idols since he was a child. People he still felt had no reason to even know his name, much less attend his wedding. 

Next came the Piastri twins with petals in their baskets. They took a few confident steps till they realized just how many people were looking at them. Then in an instant, the weeks of preparation for their big moment went out the window as they both stood there, frowns on their faces. Logan’s heart broke a little at how shy they had suddenly gotten.

Maybe he really should have had Dalton take their place. 

After a few moments the twins still didn’t move. Logan was about to make his way down the aisle to them, but his brother-in-law-to-be, Charles, stepped through the entrance to get to them, holding his newborn, who was acting as the ring-bearer despite being a month old and currently asleep. Charles crouched down between the two toddlers, whispering something no one else but the two of them heard, causing shocked but excited looks to replace the shy pouts. 

The toddlers each stood on the side of Charles and his sleeping child, throwing petals with renewed excitement. By the time they reached the end, Logan crouched down to give them each a hug, getting a kiss on the cheek and ‘good luck, Lo Lo’. Charles passed the rings to Dalton, the best man, and answered Logan’s questioning look with a quick explanation, “I told them my son was very nervous about walking down the aisle and I hoped they would walk with him. I also said you’d give them candy after.” 

Logan rolled his eyes, happy Charles had looked out for his honorary niece and nephew, but annoyed he now had to find candy for the toddlers unless he wanted a tantrum to end all tantrums at his reception dinner. 

The second the bride stepped down the aisle, her mom by her side, Logan forgot what he was worried about before. Suddenly, seeing his fiancé in her dress, glowing in a way that could only be explained by magic, Logan knew nothing in his life had ever felt so right. 

He had to stop himself from kissing her as she stood in front of him, only half listening to the officiant. He didn’t care about all the famous people in the crowd, didn’t care about how miserable he was at Williams, didn’t care about all the shit he got from fans, didn’t care about anything but the woman who was in front of him. 

In a flash, vows were exchanged, ‘I do’s were said, and he was kissing his wife and then running down the aisle. 

Everything was so good.

[tenebrare]

I wrote this year from January to June 100 000 word Hellraiser novel version from my ongoing Hellraiser fan project - namely PT.1 (not whole story even) . I started project itself originally with 2 A4 pages and 64 bullet-points. But a fan said I should totally write it in book format after hearing my initial plot and planned dialogues. When I wrote - I wrote 1000+ words a day, to be noted unlike English language my language does not have any word count cheats like "the" "an", etc. Thing is, when you have idea, have planned its start, ending and middle in your head, writing is so fast that you type too slow for your thought process. Note that i am no writer, i cannot write. i doodle and I just wrote a 'novel version' or 'draft' on a thing I planned to doodle and make graphic novel alike publication with animated headers. So how do people write "like that" ? By actually using Agathe Christie's advice - every story she wrote started from ... the end. Not the beginning. The moment you know how your story ends, rest falls in place and thus filling it in becomes much faster. My Hellraiser fan story pt1 ending was THE very 1st thing I had planned, and starting was the 2nd thing. All I did those 6 months was to fill in the middle. And if I know where I must reach, rest becomes much simpler for my head to manage. BUT as I said - I am no writer. I am someone, who doodles. So take my comment as grain of salt, but its how I did the 100 000 words in 6 months thing. I did not write every day (naturally) but just ~100 days during 6 months. Some days I wrote 3000 words, many days 0. Most times, when i opened a doc file, it was ~1000. Not because I had some 'markup' goal, but because 1000 was, when my fingers got tired typing. :P For me probably it was also easier at end because I had already made visual references for all 6 main characters (2 human, 3 cenobites and 2 versions of captain Spencer) and I knew exactly what characters do, what the key events are and even had done so called 'key-art' illustrations as my anchor points. So when i described a location, i already knew what I was describing. I did not invent it while writing, but before starting writing. *sips coffee* Ah yes, and coffee. A lot of coffee.

HOW DO PEOPLE WRITE CONSISTENTLY. HOW. I SPENT 3 HOURS STARING AT A SINGLE SENTENCE YESTERDAY. meanwhile someone out there has written a trilogy this year and i am one (1) typo away from fighting god. send help.

[moonchild701]

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Secret Santa

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Summary: The League has a Secret Santa event and you get Dabi. Chaos ensues.

Pairing: Dabi/Gen Reader

Content Warning: Crack, Fluff, SFW, Quirked Reader (kinda like Blackwhip?), Endeavor Bashing(?)

Word Count: 1.7k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: This is the 2nd part of 12 fics for a 12 Days of Christmas event. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Prompt: Secret Santa

My Masterlist

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It's really Toga's fault.

Her wanting to celebrate Christmas wasn't really a surprise to anyone who knows her, because it really shouldn't be.

In Japan, Christmas is like another Valentine's day, where it's full of couples in love celebrating with each other, going into the new year.

It's also a time of family, one of which she no longer has, biologically speaking. Now with her new family, she wants to celebrate with them and show them how much she loves them!

And being the baby of the group, the others tend to indulge her when they can, letting her have a childhood as much as they can manage in their line of life.

So when she asked to decorate the bar, they let her.

When she asked to make chocolate chip cookies, Kurogiri made them right along with her.

When she asked to do a secret Santa exchange, they indulged her.

.....And that's where it went all wrong.

Because see, you got Dabi as the one you're to give a gift to.

You think anyone else might've been easier to find a gift for.

Shigaraki would've been easier. Just throw a new video game or game merch at him, and he'll be happy.

But Dabi? What the fuck does that man even like other than arson and revenge?!

You thought to maybe get him some new piercings or something but that just seems so....bland.

And it could work, could be enough for him, but it wouldn't be enough for him to you.

Not after nursing a festering crush on him for almost as long as you've known him.

So after agonizing for days over what to get him, with time ticking down, you resorted to asking the others for ideas.

What made you think asking criminals, murderers and psychopaths, would be a good idea, you don't know, but you did.

And maybe there's something to be said about you that you actually listened to their advice.

"Chocolates and confess!" Toga had said. You swear her pupils turned into hearts at the thought of love, and frankly, you were scared.

"A new fashion sense may do." Compress said, doing tricks with a deck of cards. You still don't know if he was joking.

"A gift with meaning, maybe something you have in common." Twice said earnestly, before immediately ruining it. "You, wrapped in nothing but ribbons. He'd love that!" And, well, you don't feel like simultaneously embarrassing yourself and getting burnt to a crisp so.....

"I can show you where I got my Stain merch!" Spinner said with stars in his eyes. The poor guy looked so dejected when you declined, but again, you like not being crispy.

"Some manners perhaps?" Polishing a glass, Kurogiri said it so seriously, you had to laugh. Again, you don't even know if he was joking.

"Just get him some more jewelry, hon. You can't go wrong there, right?" Of course Magne was the most sensible but it just wasn't enough! You may not want to outwardly confess your feelings but you still want to show it in some way; show him that you care.

And as a last resort, you turned to Shigaraki.

"Tch, I don't know, Endeavor's head on a pike? He's always complaining about him." Shigaraki said, eyes trained on his switch, barely paying you any mind. And yet, it was the most profound thing to you in your dumb, love sick mind.

Because of course that's what you should get him! His revenge on a silver platter! You won't take his revenge from him, stealing his kill and the satisfaction of it, but you can do something.

Now, a sane person would step back and think to themselves, hey. This is the Number Two Hero in the country. Mayhaps have a solid, sensible plan.

But alas, that was not you, for you are in love with a less than sane person, which absolutely made you at least half insane by osmosis.

So with a bright, chirped, "Thanks Shiggs!", you went on your way.

Shigaraki did not acknowledge this, nor did he process a word of this interaction.

*****

Mind set, you find your way to Endeavor's house. You would think that being such a huge public figure, he'd live in a secure, gated community at least. But no, he just lives in a giant house in a normal neighborhood, albeit on the wealthy side of the spectrum.

The traditional style of it is beautiful, if a bit gaudy, but you figure it comes with being Number Two.

At midnight, you sneak in. It's honestly pathetic how easy it is, with no alarms or anything going off.

Light on your feet, you make your way through the house. It takes a while, but you eventually find his bedroom.

The man, of course, sleeps like the psychopath he is.

Flat on his back, hands clasped over his stomach, without a blanket, feet hanging over the edge of the bed by his ankles.

He snores like a congested bear, so whatever sounds you might've made are drowned out.

The black tendrils of your quirk whip out, simultaneously snagging his wrists, arms, torso and legs, as a thick cord of it wraps tightly around his throat, holding him in place as he momentarily struggles, while you inject him with tranquilizer, only releasing him when he falls back unconscious.

You hum in satisfaction at your handiwork, before realizing you need a way to transport and store him.

A quick text to Kurogiri has you in one of the League's spare warehouses, making use of one of the empty shipping crates lying around as it's the only thing on hand that's big enough to fit him into.

Using your quirk, you lift him into it, not caring enough to be gentle, instead just kind of....tossing him in.

Closing the lid, you leave him overnight, knowing he'll stay unconscious, though still breathing thanks to the holes in the box.

The next day, you come back with supplies.

Earphones in, you listen to the news on Endeavor's disappearance, and the fact that there are no leads, satisfied as you get to work.

After trying to make him look somewhat presentable, sticking a shiny, blue bow to his forehead with gorilla glue, because his sweat kept making it peel off, you wrap and decorate the crate, trying to make it as pretty as you can given the circumstances, and you smile satisfied with your gift. He's pumped full of tranquilizer and quirk suppressants, wrapped up nice and tidy, so all that's left is to present him.

You hope Dabi likes his gift.

*****

Christmas day is soon upon you, and everyone is ready with their presents.

Tomura gets some prequirk game from Spinner and he lights up brighter than the Christmas lights Toga put up.

Compress gets a pair of pretty, gold cufflinks from Shigaraki.

Twice gets a book that he's been gushing about for weeks from Kurogiri.

Toga gets a case with vials of blood, within a bat themed purse from Magne.

Kurogiri gets a new wine set from Compress.

Magne gets a dress from Twice, handmade and pretty.

Spinner gets some Stain merch from Dabi, which...fitting but why the fuck do they know where to get them??

You get a pretty knife with intricate carvings on the handle from Toga.

The last one to receive their gift is Dabi, and you're nervous. You ask Kurogiri to transport you all to the warehouse, explaining that it can't fit in the bar and it might not be safe anyway, and all of them follow curiously, not knowing what to expect.

*****

Dabi looks at the giant, wrapped box with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

It's big. Bigger than what should make sense for a Christmas gift. It's wrapped meticulously in shiny, blue and black iridescent wrapping paper, topped with a giant, pearly white bow, and it sticks out like a sore thumb, looking out of place among the bland brown of the surrounding crates and grey, concrete walls and floors.

He feels an ominous presence from it, and is sorely tempted to just light it ablaze.

Glancing at your nervous yet excited smile, he decides against it....for now.

You gesture towards it, with a shaky, "Merry Christmas Dabi." He hums, walking cautiously towards it. He considers burning off the paper, but decides to keep to the tradition of tearing it apart like a child on, well, Christmas, to reveal the shipping crate.

He glances at you one last time, then opens the crate, before promptly bluescreening.

Because inside the crate is the last thing he expects.

Within it, Endeavor lays slumped, tied up, with a blue ribbon stuck to his forehead, drooling onto his chest.

The warehouse is completely silent, everyone in disbelief at what they're seeing.

You play with your fingers, twiddling your thumbs. "Do you like it?", you ask, all hopeful and sweet, like you didn't just gift someone a grown ass man in a box.

In the silence, your voice echoes, and it seems to be what they needed, because everyone snaps back into their bodies, realizing that oh. This is real.

"What the fuck..." is Dabi's first response, his voice shaky with bewilderment.

"Um...I also have Chocolates?" You laugh nervously. Maybe he doesn't like it.....

Suddenly, Dabi grabs your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours in a firm kiss, then pulling back to stare into your eyes. "You're mine now."

And you smile, dopey and bright. "Uh huh."

The moment is interrupted when Shigaraki finally reboots. "WHAT THE FUCK, WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU—" He begins to rant, but you cut him off, confused.

"Shiggs, you were the one that gave me the idea...." you say, brows furrowed.

Shigaraki looks positively baffled at the foreign truth you speak, a vein bulging at his temple.

"WHEN THE FUCK—" He starts again.

"WHILE YOU WERE PLAYING ON THE SWITCH?!?! TWO DAYS AGO!?! PAY ATTENTION WHEN PEOPLE ARE SPEAKING TO YOU DAMMIT!!"

In the background, eyes bright, Dabi kicks the crate, jolting the unconscious trash, and grins.

⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

[peppermintquartz]

The views in Sydney would be great if it would just stop fucking raining.

Seriously annoyed, Rocker strides back to the lobby. He nods at a handful of Aussie cops from the Tactical Operations Unit (TOU) that led the seminar today and spies Deacon scrolling through his phone.

"Deac, hey. It's still pissing out there and I'm already starving," Rocker tells him.

Deacon sighs. "Room service?"

"Can we charge it to LAPD?"

"They already cut costs with us sharing a hotel room," Deacon says, smiling, "so they better cough up the money for a proper meal."

There are other officers from the States, but Rocker isn't all that into socializing at the moment. He is still jetlagged to hell after four days of workshops, presentations and demonstrations. Tomorrow is the last day, full of speeches and thank yous, and Rocker is bored just thinking about it.

At least it's Deacon out here with him. Hondo can be preachy and that gets on Rocker's nerves, while Luca is a horrible person to share a room with. Tan, Rocker's first choice, is currently preparing to take the sergeant's exam.

And back home, what does Rocker have to look forward to outside of work? His apartment, his painting, and his Russian literature. God, life as a divorced man is depressing.

Deacon is someone Rocker wants to become: steady, calming, assured. Sure he has his flaws, but Deacon doesn't try to talk down to Rocker even if he has every right to do so.

Besides, Rocker knows that he's 50-David only because Deacon dropped out of consideration, and ever since then, Rocker has actively sought out Deacon's advice whenever he can. It's created a strong bond between them, the two former 2ICs to a couple of SWAT legends. He doesn't like having to follow Hondo's orders sometimes, but Deacon? He'll follow Deacon right into hell if Deacon asks him to.

Rocker doesn't want to think about what that says about him.

---

They had dinner at the tiny table in the room, and then they open up the bottle of wine they were given by one of the sergeants here as a welcome gift.

"I'm just saying, if they make me ride that horse again..." Rocker says, about three-quarters through the bottle, while Deacon laughs at the memory of the Mounted Police picking Rocker to try a couple of horseback riding maneuvers. Despite Rocker's best attempts, the horse just did not have any respect for him.

"Oh, you didn't have any dreams of being a cowboy?" Deacon teases.

Rocker scrunches his nose. "I'm a city boy through and through. Sure, kid me wanted to ride a bucking bronco, but I'm not four years old anymore."

The image of Rocker riding one of those mechanical bulls flashes into Deacon's mind. And he keeps his mind there for a moment.

"You'll look good doing it," he says at last.

"That's because I make everything look pretty," Rocker says, grinning, his cheeks pink from the wine. Deacon can't disagree; Rocker is stupidly attractive with his dark brown curls and strong features and that buff body. Unaware of Deacon's train of thought, Rocker sighs. "I like getting out of LA for these sort of trips, but the jetlag sucks."

Deacon agrees. "I'd like it more if we could go around the city or maybe venture out further. Seems such a waste being stuck indoors." He thinks about it. "No, I take that back. Running around the city means I'm actually on a case."

"Ha, I heard about Thailand. You guys have the worst luck."

"It's all Hondo, I swear."

Rocker raises an eyebrow. "But you're loyal to him."

"I'm loyal to my team," Deacon corrects. "No matter who leads it."

"Even if it's me?"

Deacon narrows his eyes. "Are you trying to poach me over to 50-squad?"

"Stevens would kill me if I swapped him out for you," Rocker says, and then he sighs. "I like working with you though. You're so... graceful. Contained."

"You're not too bad yourself," says Deacon. He reaches over and squeezes Rocker's biceps. "I mean, all that beef on you. And you're very easy on the eyes. Plus, don't tell anyone I said so, but I like when you smile so wide your whole face scrunches up."

"Really?" Rocker asks, smiling in that exact way now, as if he's been given a gift he wanted all year.

Deacon doesn't remove his hand. He likes the way his tanned skin contrasts against Rocker's paler complexion. As if looking through a screen, he sees his thumb rubbing over the patch of skin, and Rocker's muscle jumps under the caress.

"Deac?"

"Sorry," he murmurs, about to draw back his hand when he looks at Rocker again. And he stops moving. Stops breathing.

The downpour outside becomes louder. The heavens seem to want to drown out everything other than this room, render the passage of time meaningless.

Rocker swallows and licks his lips. Deacon's gaze snaps to the tip of the pink tongue peeking out, and everything in him screams for him to taste it.

The next thing he knows, he's got one hand in the back of Rocker's head, his fingers digging into short hair, and his mouth is locked over the other man's lips.

Rocker doesn't even resist, tilting his head as his thick arms go around Deacon's waist and back. He actually whines when Deacon pulls away briefly, but Deacon doesn't leave him for long; he straddles the younger man and resumes the kiss, one hand tangled into the short, damp curls of Rocker's hair and the other cradling his lightly-stubbled jaw. When he settles his weight on Rocker's lap, he encounters a heated hardness.

Gasping, Deacon pulls back from the kiss. What am I doing?

Below him, Rocker's blue eyes are blown dark, his fair cheeks pink and rosy, and his lips swollen and wet. He blinks up at Deacon, a soft, inquiring sound emerging from his throat. His hands - massive hands, always so sure and confident - tremble where they're placed on Deacon's body. He licks his lips again.

Deacon's pulse races in his chest while his own cock thickens with desire. He's done this. He's done this to Rocker, who's always, always confident. As if to test his theory, Deacon rocks his hips a little, and Rocker moans, lips parting, his broad chest heaving.

"Please," Rocker whispers, his voice so quiet and broken that Deacon can't tell if Rocker meant to say it at all.

He pulls off his own shirt and then removes Rocker's. A dull pink flush spreads over Rocker's chest. Deacon rubs his thumbs over the erect nipples, making Rocker whimper and rock up. The sensation causes every single nerve in Deacon's body to feel like he's been shocked with electricity.

He wants more of it.

"Just this once," he finds himself saying. "Just once."

"Okay," Rocker agrees too readily, and pulls Deacon close.

[micah-nicholas]

I was dissociative-misinfo, and I want to apologize.

Hi, I'm Micah, previously known as the tumblr user dissociative-misinfo. That username has since been taken by another person, whom I am not affiliated with.

For those unaware, during around Sept-Nov(?) of this year, I ran an "anti-misinfo" blog that was involved heavily in syscourse. I was staunchly anti-endo, I posted to r/systemscringe, and I personally attacked a lot of people. Like most people, I joined syscourse because I was angry, and I wanted to get my opinions (that I thought were facts) out into the world. I had a few sources, but much of what I said was fuelled by anger and my own individual ideas of what was "real" or "fake" in regards to CDDs.

So why am I back? Well, I don't know if I am. I didn't have intentions of making a sysblr blog again or returning to the community in any way. But I was informed a little while ago that people were theorizing about me being back under new usernames, and for the sake of honesty and not wanting to "become an urban legend," I sent two users anons letting them know that I am not back, and I would appreciate it if they not spread that I am.

One user didn't publish the ask, and I respect that decision. The other person, @okiimii , did publish my ask. She's actually the reason I decided to make this post at all. She responded to my ask very kindly and made me feel hopeful about returning to sysblr, if I ever decided to.

https://www.tumblr.com/okiimii/769848302226292736/okay-this-is-the-second-time-someone-has-assumed?source=share

There's the link and her response, for anyone curious.

So, this post. Am I back? Not sure yet, to be honest. But I wanted to make at least this one post to publicly apologize to the people I was rude to. I can't dig up every username, since my old tumblr (and reddit) account is fully deleted, but I've searched my old username and found everything I could so I know exactly who deserves apologies and for what.

Disclaimer that I am not very good at apologies. I'm doing my best with this post, but I understand if nobody wants to accept my apologies and if the people who were affected feel like these aren't satisfactory. You're all well within your rights to feel anyway you want about me.

@theapollosystem (regarding this interaction: https://www.tumblr.com/spot-the-ableism/762538026752770048/im-so-sorry-theapollosystem-they-do-this-a-lot?source=share ) As the reblogs to this post pointed out, I should not have personally reblogged you to make my point about introjects. Even ignoring that my point was stupid, it was disrespectful and rude for me to single you out like that. The post has gained a lot of traction, most of which I've seen is positive, which I was happy to see. I was worried when I was 1k+ notes that it would be people siding with me, or attacking you further.

As I said, my original point of argument was really fucking stupid. I was being ridiculously pedantic and petty about a joke, and I remember making multiple posts bitching about that same joke format, because I had some sort of fixated hatred for it. I'm sorry for reblogging you with that, and for indirectly fakeclaiming you.

@sysmedsaresexist (regarding this interaction: https://www.tumblr.com/sysmedsaresexist/763234703319908352/omg-lmao-okay-no-i-cant-this-is-hilarious-this?source=share ) This was NOT my proudest moment, and thinking back, this is when I first knew my blog wasn't going to last. I... have no idea what possessed me to say OSDD isn't a system-related disorder, I really wish I knew how the fuck I got there. This interaction is why some people seem to think my misinfo blog was bait.

The apology here is multi-faceted. I shouldn't have been giving OOP advice, I was not in a headspace to do so and I came across as very fakeclaim-y the way I went about it. Also, obligatory many of my points were fucking stupid. I also shouldn't have tried to veer off in that wild direction with OSDD. I wanted to have the one-up on you, SAS, because you were known for being a large pro-endo blog, and during my time running dissociative-misinfo, I didn't think pro-endos could be right about anything. It was a very binary way of thinking, and really fucking dumb of me.

My entire argument was extremely biased, I was trying to narrow down who was a valid system so I could gatekeep CDDs from people who gave me the ick. I'd also like to apologize for my series of posts following that interaction, about how I was convinced you had a groupchat with SophieinWonderland and that the two of you were sending people after me. OBVIOUSLY, THAT ISN'T TRUE, and you pointed out that you don't even like Sophie. So, I'm sorry for that entire flaming mess.

A blanket apology to anyone else I reblogged who I was rude to, EVERYONE I posted to r/systemscringe (my old username was runaway_convoy, for full transparency), and every system who has introjects because I was really shitty to the lot of you. I'm sorry for behind a cunt to everyone I disagreed with, for fakeclaiming a lot of people through my posts, and for bothering a lot of people who were just existing on sysblr, not even in syscourse, with my bullshit and rants. None of you deserved that.

Next I want to massively apologize to the community of organized abuse survivors as a whole, particularly those with DID/OSDD. I'm not going to touch on the RAMCOA term discourse, I haven't thought about my opinions on that in a while now, and I don't have a stance anymore. It's not something I have personal experience with, so I will be staying the fuck out of that discourse, where I belong.

This apology is for my bait sideblog I ran called snowchester-system. This blog was, frankly, an insult to the system community as a whole. For anyone who wasn't there to see the posts I made: snowchester-system was a bait blog I ran where I pretended to be a 15 year old (later retconned to 27, which was dubiously believed) diagnosed with HC-DID (among other labels that aren't diagnosable), who had been programmed in 2020 by a Dream SMP cult. Obviously I was playing into the systemscringe stereotypes of what makes someone look fake, and I was making myself look as fake as possible.

I didn't interact with many other blogs from snowchester, and the ones I did were fellow bait blogs ran by people in my now-deleted discord server. One of those people was a former owner of r/systemscringe, which is why the subreddit now has a pinned post stating they are not affiliated with the DSMP bait group.

I want to make it abundantly clear that the former owner I was working with is not currently affiliated with the subreddit, nor were they when snowchester was active. It was their idea that I incorporate their old reddit user, u/pomme-pommes, into the bait lore because it would be funny, or attract the sub to post my bait blog more, or whatever was going through our heads at the time.

The fake "lore" I created for my bait blog was extremely offensive to survivors of organized abuse, and it didn't benefit anybody in the system community. That blog only benefitted a few redditors who got karma by posting screenshots of it. For someone who was claiming on my misinfo blog that I wanted to "fix" the system community, I was doing a whole heaping lot of harm to it.

(A side note about the racism allegations part of snowchester's run: One of the fake alters I created for the blog was supposedly hispanic and spoke broken google translated spanish. That was not intended to be racist, I myself am Puerto Rican and I speak some spanish. I thought at the time that an alter who claimed to be fluent in a language he clearly wasn't would be funny from a "this is a syscringe stereotype" perspective. The fake alter was a Quackity introject, and Quackity is a hispanic content creator. The running jokes the fake alter made were the same ones the real-life Quackity has made. With all this in mind, I disagree with being called racist for that fake alter. Was it a shitty thing to do? Of course, faking DID for syscringe bait is shitty. But it was not racism.)

And that's my apologies, with a few clarifications. I definitely didn't cover everyone I affected, but to those I did, I really am sorry. I don't hold the same opinions I did when I ran my blogs, and I have no intentions of being so hateful in the future. If I do start using this blog, it won't be "informational." If anything, I'll post about my personal DID stuff.

Thank you to anyone who took the time to read this. I don't want to leave the system community forever, I've been here in different forms since 2021, and this community means a lot to me. My DID is a big part of my life, and with that so is being in the community surrounding it.

-- Micah

[goodluckclove]

The amount of people already agreeing with my last post about writing advice that results in shame is making me actually angry for them.

The amount of people who think they're somehow exempt from using "I" statements is just straight up dipshit behavior. Writing isn't bad if it's in first person, you just don't like first person perspective. All writers actually don't need to include every box from a list of tropes and archetypes and scenes, these are just things in stories YOU like, a ton of which certainly already exist. And if they don't exist, write them!

"oh but writing is hard" Yes! Agreed! Creating something is far more laborious than making grand sweeping statements in a public space that require no experience, research, authority or credibility!

I think books on writing made by professional writers with decades of success should still be taken with a grain of salt. If you're a person who can't even fathom the difference between a subjective measure of personal taste and - like - a commandment the whole of literature should follow? I mean you can go ahead and do that but in my mind you're the advice equivalent of Fox News.

And for like adults? For parents? If your kid is an artist and you're entirely unable to engage with them on that in a way that allows them to be in control of the narrative - I was going to say find someone who can, but fuck that learn a new skill, Grown Adult Raising a Human Being. You think you finish developing as a person at like 30? Fuck off. Ask questions. Listen to their words.

My mom offered to read my first novel and fifteen pages in she called me home from school early saying it was an emergency. She sat me down and said she was thinking about hospitalizing me because of my writing. It wasn't the content, she said the prose just didn't make sense. I was terrified.

Turns out she just never really read for fun and had no frame of reference for the work that inspired me. But for years after I was fucking SCARED. That alone is a big reason why I worked so hard to like think directly about writing as little as possible while I was doing it.

I'm angry I need a nap. If you're a writer who has ever felt shame from feedback while you're still forming your creative identity, kindly douse the feeling in kerosene and set it on fire. Warm yourself by the heat of it. Roast a spiteful marshmallow. Make one for me too, friend.

[bilbob963]

I know I said during the week in my last post but I was bored and kinda wanted to do this…

Sooo, what if Caine is the only one who can allow them to leave but only when the game is complete but…what if it’s not the actual game/ adventures…say that’s just part of the whole process and the actual adventure is them all finding themselves and learning that it’s ok to no be ok and they’re not alone.

Imagine it being like hypnosis therapy. There minds being thrown into a wacky world that represents the brain whilst the body is in a deep sleep and all these adventures, objects, buildings and NPCS are obstacles and lessons like memories, phobias, traumas, dreams, nightmares, child hood. Basically all that stuff that stands out in life. Your character is your players card or something that represents you and there’s other people there with you because end of day your not alone as many people a fighting silent battles with in the mind and soul… there is a lot I could say about this, the mind is a strange place, very familiar but unfamiliar at the same time…

Anyways, getting to the point of this pic…

- Ragatha needs to accept she can’t please everybody, instead she should be doing what makes her happy. She also needs to learn she can’t sugarcoat everything and sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.

- Jax needs to understand it’s ok to be scared and it’s ok to show that vulnerable side, he also needs to learn that’s it’s ok to feel and show emotions other than hiding behind a fake smile.

- Zooble needs to understand that they’re perfect the way they are. We all get self conscious at one point but end of the day the only thing that matters is you and what makes you happy.

- Gangle needs to let it out, she needs to be heard. This new episode showed how much pain she’s holding in and how she’s struggling. Trying to stay calm whilst under pressure and yet so many thoughts and emotions going through your mind can be tough for anyone, maybe she needs someone to lean on and to tell her she doesn’t have to do this alone…

-Kinger I believe is trapped in his own mind due to a memory illness. Not being able to do nothing to some point where you’re imprisoned in your own head and mind and only certain things can remind you of those happy moments. It’s tormenting, day after day forgetting who you are in and out. What Kinger needs is the whole gang to help get him out that dark pit and in the right environment where he feels comfortable and everybody’s there to remind him who he is and what has. The positive things that help the memory and the emotions. He needs to be around people not pillows.

-Pomni, well gotta say I’m struggling for this one. The first and second episode she showed some social anxiety, not wanting to talk much or interact but yet keeping distant. she also doesn’t like being touched and seems very jumpy and fidgety so let’s say maybe there’s some kind of trauma/abuse like thing. Episode three she mentions a ‘he’ saying she belongs down in hell and saying he was right, bursting into tears but what we also see is her being a shoulder to cry on, someone who’s seems to be in the right place at the right time.

It’s gonna be one of those things where she’s gonna listen and give advice or something positive, the one to tell them it’s ok but who’s gonna be the one to listen to her and tell her it’s ok. Kinger did listen but like she said, soon as he’s back in light hell not remember…

Oookkaay, sorry for another long post. There’s so much to say and yet I haven’t got the brain capacity to word it so I do apologise if it doesn’t make sense or I’ve messed up somewhere. It’s 1:11 am and I need sleep haha these are just my thoughts tho so each to their own…goodnight/ morning or whatever I don’t care …

[olderthannetfic]

I'm feeling weird about an interaction I had the other day, and I'm wondering if I could get... I dunno, advice, I guess? From the usual commenters here.

So, context is that three-ish years ago, I got hate-brigaded in the fandom where I did most of my writing, in a way that came out of nowhere, and also in such a way that I felt like I deserved it. I ended up deleting everything I'd made for that fandom off the internet just to make it stop, including nearly six years of an art blog. I got a reality check later from friends whose credibility I trusted a lot more than random strangers on the internet, and eventually reposted most of the fic (backdated to the original dates of posting), and do actually still post fic in that fandom (also backdated to avoid notice). I also post a couple of fics on that account that are not backdated where I write with OCs from the original fandom fic in other fandoms.

The other day, someone who had been working their way through kudosing my stuff in the old fandom posted a complementary comment about it on the most recently updated of the two fanfics that isn't in that fandom, said they liked my OCs in the original fandom fic, and asked if I'd ever be interested in writing about that original fandom again. I explained that I was still writing fic in that fandom, it was just all backdated because most people really did not seem to like what I was writing.

And they responded saying that was too bad, and asking my opinion about a character they love, noting that it's pretty obvious from my fic that I don't like them and wondering why. And, like, this was probably just someone who was looking for fandom connection... but the character they were asking about is one of the most popular characters in the entire fandom. Most of the people still actively writing fic in this fandom are writing about this character, so if they wanted people to engage with about this character, they had basically everyone but me to engage with. And the person who set off the initial hate brigade against me that lead to me deleting basically my entire internet presence for months had this character as their URL.

So in my brain, I immediately go, "bait, this is bait," and delete this person's comments, delete my one response to them, and lock down comments on all the works on that account. And I know, I know that's paranoid overreaction. Based on their kudos pattern, this person was clearly working their way slowly through all the things on that account, which is not something someone who was only there to bait me would do. The only slightly off thing they did was comment on an unrelated most-recently-updated work instead of one of the works for the actual fandom. Probably they didn't realize that most people have comment emails turned on and didn't know I'd see a comment if they posted it on one of the older works, and they definitely didn't know what asking that particular question would do to me.

But I just... don't know how to exist in a fandom space any more without intense paranoia. I want to keep writing these things that bring me joy, and I do, but I miss being able to have my comments open without fear. I miss being able to post to a blog that wasn't locked down from Tumblr search. I wish I could interact with ANY fandom these days—not just that original one, but any fandom at all—and not feel like someone is going to turn on me out of nowhere. I can't overstate how out-of-nowhere that hate brigade was: my average fic got maybe 2 kudos. My art blog had fewer than 100 followers, and on average I got like 5 notes. I still to this day don't know why the person who set it off had such a hate-on for me, because it was clear from some of the anons I was getting that they'd built up a hell of a litany of ills to pile on my head, while all being vague enough that I never quite got a clear picture of what they were accusing me of.

I know part of the solution is to grow a thicker skin, and to block frequently. And I've been working on that, I guess I just... thought I was doing a bit better at growing a thicker skin and not being reactionary and the other day's incident made it really, really apparent I'm not, and I don't know what to do about it, because apparently the therapy is not doing enough! (Not that my therapist understands fandom...)

Any advice?

--

I mean... it's PTSD or something of the sort. Treat it as such.

[creatingblackcharacters]

maybe a silly ask but do you have any advice for finding and working with a sensitivity reader?

Well, other than the post I made that was trying to find them myself that has people volunteering, I don't have too much advice as to how to find them other than asking around. Social media can find you just about anyone.

As for working with one, some tips are 1) knowing and setting your boundaries from the get go for what you expect, and 2) being willing to accept their criticism. That's what you asked them for! If they said "no, this is a stereotype" don't huff and puff and act like you're above it. 3) Some people might actually charge you for the amount of work being done. I personally think that's valid, but if you're not willing to pay them be willing to accept what free entails lol, including time and commitment.

[nondelphic]

Hello! Dropping by to say your writing quotes give me life, actually followed you for that and am delighted to see you also answer Asks, your advice gives me fuel to write - but i may have hit a stump... Would you happen to know how to write tension between love rivals vying for a same girl?

The situation would be that they didn't have any hostile opinion of the other, they've just been classmates who share some classes, but then this new girl comes along and suddenly they're measuring each other up cuz they're forced to work on a project together.

I'd appreciate any reply or opinion since i always love reading stuff on your blog anyway, thank you! 💌

hey anon!! sorry that i'm responding to this two months later after you sent it... i've been wondering how to best reply!

okay, so tension between love rivals is such a gold mine for drama (love that for you), but it's also one of those things that can feel so tricky to nail because there's a fine line between believable conflict and cartoonish over-the-top nonsense. (unless you're aiming for nonsense, in which case, go wild, i support you entirely.)

in your case, the fact that the rivals don’t start off hostile is super interesting, because the shift in their dynamic has to feel natural, like something they're discovering about themselves in real time. the new girl (aka the object of their mutual crush) is obviously the catalyst, but the fun part is exploring how she becomes this lens that makes them start seeing each other differently—like, "wait, why am i suddenly noticing every move this person makes? are they smarter than me? funnier? ugh, no way, i hate them now."

jealousy is an easy place to start because it’s so relatable (and lowkey messy). they don’t have to immediately go full "duel at dawn"; instead, think about the smaller moments:

♡ micro-competitions: they start subtly one-upping each other in the project—who's contributing more, whose ideas are better, who gets the new girl to laugh at their jokes.

♡ awkward silences: tension can speak volumes in what’s not said. maybe one of them cracks a joke, and instead of laughing, the other one just looks at them like, “seriously?”

♡ misinterpreted actions: like, one of them does something totally innocent (e.g., asking the girl a question about the project), and the other's brain is immediately like, "oh so we're pulling the charming, thoughtful card now? cool, cool, not threatened at all."

♡ petty little jabs: nothing overtly mean—just enough to make the girl go, "um, are you guys okay?"

the project setting is perfect because it forces them into close proximity constantly, and that’s where the cracks start showing. it’s not like they hate each other; they’re just suddenly hyper-aware of every little thing the other person does, which is maddening for both of them.

also, don’t underestimate the power of humor! let them have moments of awkward ridiculousness. like, maybe one of them tries way too hard to impress the girl and ends up embarrassing themselves, and the other person is like, "this is the best day of my life," but only internally because they have to play it cool.

hope this helps, anon! sending you all the best of luck writing !! ✿(´꒳`)

[yourlocalxiaosimp]

hi bee this is a very random question but

uhh so this post (u need to check it to understand the rest of this ask)

i saw it and was like. well idk that seems kinda hypocritical cos if the roles were reversed that would be really upsetting for u

and i explained that in the comments and they just said "who hurt you" like? kinda rude to assume im extremely traumatised and hateful against aromantic people because i suggested that the post they made was hypocritical

and now they are saying im being weird and making no sense and idk what to do can i have some advice? asking u cos i like you (/p obviously), ur aromantic so your point of view might help me and u were at the top of my notifications

but yeah augh sorry

It’s alright I gotchu

Yeah that definitely sounds pretty hypocritical. Someone’s relationship status isn’t any of their business and doing something like that could put a bad taste in allos’ mouths. It’d be even worse if the roles were reversed. I don’t condone actually doing anything like this. Even just joking about it would be a stretch.

I feel like maybe someone should check in with them. Especially if their first thought at being criticized is that the person criticizing is traumatized in some way. That could be projection. I’m not entirely sure on that though.

[mufos-photo-album]

I was smiling ear-to-ear when I first saw this, thank you!!

(Further replies to prev. tags + some bonus art beneath the cut)

#i believe piri and ilaw would get along more than one would think#guy whos often called dad on accident + youngster with no father figure#truly the dynamic of all time

I actually kinda disagree, not that I don't think that their dynamic wouldn't be Funny but I view things kinda differently. For the most part I've depicted Piripu as being rather chill about not having a father figure. The two people in his life who *are* his parental figures these days are more like his adult friends who he sees occasionally and gets advice from (quality variable). That being said, it still would still be fun to envision Ilaw attempting to give Piripu (as the Spearmaster) advice, not because I think they'd get along (maybe initially they might), but because I think they'd have beef. Not serious beef, but beef nonetheless.

To elaborate: IIRC you said something about Ilaw not being super jazzed about Sky Kids These Days, and while the Spearmaster is not a kid, he's still a part of the "new generation". Therefore, I think Ilaw and Piripu would have "old man meets young adult hooligan" beef. For more information please consult the drawing below:

(If I got anything wrong feel free to correct me)

Also on the topic of character dynamics: While she wasn't included in this post I feel like Bata and Mufotsuki would get along. Children of the Wasteland unite 🤝

(PS. It's so funny to think that everything Piripu does is technically "fatherless behavior")

was about time i drew these two... i love their shenanigans 🫶

piripu + mufotsuki belong to @mufos-photo-album !

[batsyheere]

"So, handling your archnemesis," Danny starts. The room falls quiet, heads slowly turning to look at the man as he writes the words on the chalkboard. When finished, the characters somehow both messy and neat at once, Danny places the chalk back down and claps his hands.

"I typically call them fruitloops. Often they're in a better position than you are- older, richer, more powerful. They may have some sort of status that protects them when facing the public."

Tim wondered where Dick was right now, and if he was laughing. His brain was lagging like a computer as he tried to process what Danny was saying, and how seriously a few of his fellow teen vigilantes were taking this.

"Some of their more common tactics are-" the chalk was picked back up, and Danny writes as he speaks.

"Manipulation, isolation, conditioning, and empathy."

MICE.

Tim stares at the board, and quietly slips put his phone.

-What have I done to deserve this.

Enjoy your lessons Tim-

His head thumps against the desk. Conner leans over, gives him a pat on the shoulder but returns to taking notes as Danny goes on to explain the conditioning tactic.

[noneknxws]

i think a lot of people forget that some neurodivergent ppl can’t control what they hyperfixate on