#probably going to keep working on my fanfics but as for engaging and interacting with the fandom idk

[bats-baby]

LGBTQ+ CHARACTERS IN BRIDGERTON: A RANT

I want to say that as a sapphic person myself, I love Bridgerton. I adore it. It’s my favorite show. I love seeing these beautiful couples fall in love and investing all this time into seeing their stories play out. Most of them are straight couples, and yet I love the show anyways because I love love.

I’m talking attraction, infatuation, romance, angst, fluff, lust, honestly everything that has to do with it.

I have given so much support to the heterosexual ships of Bridgerton as a sapphic person. What I find really unfortunate is that a lot of heterosexual fans can’t seem to do the same thing for a sapphic pairing. If you’re upset because you can’t relate to a queer couple, that’s okay. I can’t relate to a straight one. You have plenty of other heterosexual ships in the show/books to identify with, and us queer fans unfortunately have had nothing. Until now.

Fran can still struggle with a miscarriage, infertility, grief, wanting a child, and still be queer. We have no idea what her season is going to be like and we won’t know for a while. To say you that hate her her season already just because Michael is now Michaela isn’t fair.

If you’re upset just because you prefer Michael as a man, then you still have the book and you can read it whenever you want.

Benedict can still end up with Sophie even though he’s bisexual. The point of bisexuality is being attracted to multiple genders.

Ever since these Benedict and Francesca queer confirmations happened, this fandom has become extremely toxic and very unwelcoming. Sure every fandom has its levels of toxicity, but seeing people talk about how the love that I and many other queer people express isn’t a story worth telling has just become so exhausting to see everywhere online. I’ve become uncomfortable in this fandom space and at this point I might just take a break and come back when I think I can handle it.

[tinyfantasminha]

I don't want to keep clogging my blog with vent posts but uh... I guess this is a more general concern/observation

But it's getting real hard to stay motivated in fandom spaces when there's little compensation, and annoying occurrences are more frequent than good ones.

Mainly there's been less engagement/people showing interest in creators and their art (such as sending asks, making comments and reblogging with tags) and MORE parasocial interactions. This goes for both artists and writers.

Over this year I've noticed a vast disinterest within my public in general. Asks about ocs, my art, or just nice simple comments of ''I love your art'' has been getting more and more scarce. My follower number is bigger than 2-3 years ago sure and I get more likes on my posts but they are feeling more like just numbers and statistics than actual people who supposedly like my stuff.

And while people being parasocial with creators has always been a thing, I feel like it's gotten way worse... in general? People sending personal pictures out of the blue in hopes of being validated, unwanted psychological advice or assumptions about the creator without any established connection first ( <- these happened to me in the same week.) ventdump, just insensitive/lacking of common sense comments in general, unreasonable demands (mostly with writers)... I wondered at first if it was just me, but a handful of mutuals/acquaintances who are artists and writers seems to be going through it as well.

It's annoying. It's tough. It's getting exhausting. Creators pour so much of themselves into their work—countless hours, effort, and passion, all to share something meaningful or entertaining with others (and for FREE) The LEAST anyone can do is show respect, even if opinions differ. When a writer posts a fanfic, don't just say ''omg post next chapter!'', when an artist posts a drawing of their favorite character, don't just say ''omg draw (character) next!'' as if they're faceless content machines that are expected to churn out more '''content''' for you without acknowledgment, encouragement, or appreciation.

''I want to support creators but I don't know what to say and I feel intimidated by their talent so I just lurk silently :((('' I swear to you, no creator (at least not the majority) is making up an intimidating persona to discourage you from interacting with them. They WANT your comments. A single ''I love your art/writing/videos'' or even something as silly as ''I want to eat your art'' is enough to keep a creator sighing dreamily for WEEKS. It doesn't have to be deep! It's heartfelt and that's what it matters!! (Just remember to keep it relevant and thoughtful... It takes just a bit of common sense NOT to comment things like ''this looks like (another character)'' or ''this but with (another unrelated ship/character/show)''. No one wants to hear comparisons or unrelated ideas when they’ve poured their soul into something.)

In fact, the ''I like your art but I think you're intimidating'' feels more hurtful than flattering. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, acting wrong. 💀

If you love that fanfic that changed your brain psyche forever and want to gush about it, go tell the writer. If you loved so much a piece of art that you saved it a million times in your phone and can't stop thinking about it, go tell the artist. Push away the ''they probably won't care about my comment/it won't make a difference'' thoughts. DO IT NOW. You won't know when they might go inactive forever or deactivate. You can't know if that is the last piece they will ever post. Make sure you show appreciation to creators NOW, while they are still here. While they're still not being replaced by AI.

[imreidswifey]

The Profiler’s Heart -S.Reid Fanfic-

Words: 20k+

Summary: The Profiler’s Heart, is a heartfelt romance with Dr. Spencer Reid, the brilliant yet socially awkward FBI agent from Criminal Minds. What begins as a simple, chance encounter at a local coffee shop transforms into a deep and transformative relationship. Over time, Spencer slowly lets you into his world, keeping his newfound happiness a secret from his team as he struggles with his own vulnerabilities.

A/n: As you may have noticed I have not been posting as much because I have been working on this!! It is a very long read so get comfortable (Around 20k+ words)

Warnings:

Mental Health Themes, Trauma & Emotional Struggles, Mature Themes & Emotional Content, Slow Burn Romance, Spoilers for Criminal Minds, Language: The story includes some strong language and emotional intensity in dialogue, Romantic Relationship Dynamics, Slow Development.

———————————————————————————-

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you pushed open the door to your favorite coffee shop, the bell above jingling softly. It was a small, cozy space, tucked away on a quiet street—a haven for anyone seeking a little peace. You’d been coming here for months, drawn to the warm lighting, mismatched chairs, and the faint hum of classical music playing in the background. Today was no different. You approached the counter, exchanging a quick smile with the barista as you placed your usual order, then made your way to your favorite seat by the window.

You had just settled in with a book when you noticed him walk in. He wasn’t entirely new to the coffee shop—you’d seen him a few times before—but he always seemed to come and go without much interaction. He was tall and lanky, his slightly unkempt hair giving him an air of quiet distraction. Today, he looked even more out of place than usual, wearing a sweater vest over a button-down shirt and a tie that seemed just slightly too tight. As he reached the counter, he fumbled briefly with his wallet before ordering in a low, hesitant voice.

“Black coffee, no sugar.”

He stood awkwardly while waiting for his drink, his gaze darting around the room before landing on your table. The coffee shop was unusually crowded today, and there weren’t many seats left. When his coffee arrived, he hesitated for a moment, then approached your table, holding his cup with both hands as though it might steady him.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the chatter around you. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head, offering a polite smile. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, lowering himself into the chair across from you.

He placed his coffee on the table and pulled a thick book from his bag. You tried not to stare, but the title caught your eye—An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.

“Light reading?” you asked, tilting your head toward the book.

He glanced up, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Adam Smith is… surprisingly engaging,” he replied, his tone measured and deliberate.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people would’ve gone with ‘dense’ or ‘impenetrable.’”

His smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. It’s fascinating when you think about how his ideas laid the foundation for modern economics.”

“True,” you conceded, closing your own book and leaning forward slightly. “But do you ever read anything just for fun?”

He hesitated, as though the question caught him off guard. “I do,” he said after a moment, though his tone carried a hint of defensiveness. “But I suppose my idea of fun might be… unconventional.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not judging. I mean, I’m sitting here reading 19th-century poetry for fun, so I’m probably not one to talk.”

His gaze flicked to the cover of your book, and he nodded appreciatively. “Emily Dickinson. Her work is deceptively simple but incredibly profound.”

“You’re a fan?” you asked, surprised.

“Of her conciseness, yes. She had a remarkable ability to convey complex ideas with very few words,” he said, then added, almost shyly, “Though I can’t say I’ve read all of her work. There are still… gaps in my literary knowledge.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke—thoughtful, deliberate, as though each word had been carefully chosen. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you were used to having with strangers in coffee shops, but there was something refreshing about it.

For the next half hour, the two of you exchanged snippets of conversation between sips of coffee and moments of quiet reading. You learned that his name was Spencer and that he worked in a field he described only as “challenging.” He asked about your interests with genuine curiosity, his sharp mind evident in the way he seemed to absorb every detail you shared.

When it was time for you to leave, you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say anything. In the end, you simply stood, offering him a small smile. “It was nice talking to you, Spencer. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He looked up from his book, his expression softening. “Likewise. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You nodded and walked away, feeling an inexplicable sense of warmth. As you stepped outside, you glanced back through the window and saw him watching you, his book forgotten on the table.

You didn’t know it yet, but that moment was the beginning of something that would soon become a part of your routine—and, eventually, your life.

The coffee shop was quieter today, the usual mid-morning rush giving way to a lull that left most of the tables empty. You had claimed your usual spot by the window, your coffee steaming gently on the table, and a fresh novel open in your hands. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon, but as the door jingled softly, you looked up instinctively.

There he was.

Spencer walked in with the same slightly awkward air, his satchel slung over his shoulder and his tie slightly askew. This time, though, he spotted you almost immediately. His gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he moved to the counter to place his order.

“Black coffee, no sugar,” he murmured, just loud enough for the barista to hear.

You went back to your book, though your focus wavered slightly. When he approached your table, coffee in hand, you glanced up again.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone polite but hesitant.

You gestured to the empty seat with a smile. “Not at all. Looks like it’s becoming a habit.”

He sat down carefully, placing his coffee on the table and pulling a notebook from his bag. The book from last time was absent, but he seemed just as engrossed in whatever he was working on. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the faint rustle of paper and the clink of ceramic mugs.

It was Spencer who broke the silence first. “What are you reading today?”

You held up the cover for him to see. “It’s a mystery novel. Nothing as dense as Adam Smith, but it’s a fun read.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Mystery novels are interesting. They rely on a careful balance of misdirection and logic. Do you prefer ones with a twist ending or ones where you can solve the puzzle before the protagonist does?”

You considered the question for a moment. “I like the ones that make you think you’ve figured it out, only to completely surprise you in the last chapter. Keeps things exciting.”

He nodded, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his coffee cup. “The element of surprise is important, but so is fairness. A good mystery should give you all the clues—you just have to know how to interpret them.”

“Is that something you’ve studied?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

He hesitated, his expression shifting as though he were carefully choosing his words. “In a way. My work involves… patterns, logic, and deduction. It’s not exactly the same as a mystery novel, but there are parallels.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds fascinating. What do you do, exactly?”

He hesitated again, glancing down at his notebook as if it held the answer. “I work for the FBI,” he said finally. “In the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s incredible. You’re a profiler, then?”

He gave a small nod, his expression modest. “Yes. We analyze criminal behavior to help solve cases. It’s… challenging, but rewarding.”

“That sounds like the kind of job that would keep you up at night,” you said, your tone curious but gentle.

He gave a faint smile, his gaze distant. “It does, sometimes. But it also gives me a chance to help people, which makes it worth it.”

There was a quiet intensity in his voice that made you pause. It was clear that his work was more than just a job to him—it was something deeply personal.

“Sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” you said softly.

He looked up, startled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I… try to be.”

The conversation drifted after that, touching on lighter topics. He asked about your work, genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself sharing more than you expected. There was something disarming about his quiet attention, the way he seemed to hang on every word.

Before long, an hour had passed, and you realized with a start that you needed to get going.

“I should probably head out,” you said, gathering your things. “But this was nice. I’m glad we got to talk again.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening. “Me too. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Besides, I’m starting to think you’re better company than I expected.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “I’ll… see you around, then?”

“Definitely,” you said, giving him a small wave before heading out the door.

As you walked down the street, you couldn’t help but feel lighter somehow, as though the conversation had brightened your day in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Back at the coffee shop, Spencer sat for a moment, staring at the empty seat across from him. He pulled out his notebook and jotted something down—a brief note in his neat, precise handwriting.

For the rest of the day, he carried that moment with him, and though he didn’t say a word about it to anyone, his coworkers at the BAU couldn’t help but notice the faint smile that lingered on his face.

It was raining the next time you saw Spencer, a steady drizzle that painted the streets in a muted haze. The coffee shop was busier than usual, filled with people seeking shelter from the weather, and the hum of conversation blended with the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. You were perched at your usual table, a warm mug in your hands, when the door jingled and Spencer walked in, shaking droplets from his hair.

He scanned the room, his gaze landing on you almost immediately. You raised a hand in a small wave, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he made his way over.

“Crowded today,” he remarked, his voice low but warm as he slipped into the seat across from you.

“Seems like everyone had the same idea,” you replied, gesturing toward the line snaking its way to the counter. “You might be waiting a while for your coffee.”

He glanced at the line, then back at you. “That’s all right. I’m in no hurry.”

There was an ease to his presence now that hadn’t been there before, a quiet comfort that made you smile. Over the past few weeks, your conversations had become more frequent, the once-occasional meetings in the coffee shop turning into something you both seemed to look forward to.

“Working on anything interesting today?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook he’d pulled from his bag.

Spencer opened it carefully, revealing pages filled with neat, precise handwriting and diagrams that looked more like they belonged in a science journal than a coffee shop. “Just some notes,” he said, brushing his fingers over the edge of the paper. “It helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Mind if I take a look?” you asked, intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook across the table. You skimmed the page, your brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of the densely packed information.

“This… is definitely not light reading,” you said with a laugh, handing it back to him. “Is this for work?”

“In a way,” he said, tucking the notebook back into his bag. “I like to stay ahead, so I do a lot of independent research. It helps when I’m working on particularly complicated cases.”

You nodded, impressed. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

Spencer looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose not. But I enjoy it. There’s always more to learn, and I find comfort in that.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. There was a vulnerability beneath his words, a quiet admission that spoke to the way his mind worked—always racing, always searching for answers.

“Well, if you ever need a break from all that learning,” you said lightly, “you know where to find me.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The line at the counter finally thinned, and Spencer stood to get his coffee. When he returned, he carried two cups instead of one, placing one in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“I noticed you were almost out,” he said, gesturing toward your empty mug.

You blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Spencer. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “It’s nothing. Consider it a… small token of appreciation.”

“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the table. “Talking. Listening. It’s nice.”

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. “It is. I’m glad we met.”

For the next hour, the two of you fell into easy conversation, your voices weaving through the ambient noise of the coffee shop. Spencer told you about his love of obscure trivia and his penchant for collecting rare books, and you shared stories from your own life, finding common ground in unexpected places.

At one point, he hesitated, glancing down at his coffee cup as though gathering his thoughts. “Would you… be interested in going to the museum sometime?” he asked, his tone careful but hopeful.

You tilted your head, surprised but pleased. “I’d love to. Which one?”

“There’s an exhibit on mathematical paradoxes opening this weekend,” he said, his enthusiasm breaking through his usual reserved demeanor. “It’s fascinating how something can appear contradictory but still hold a deeper truth.”

His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

The smile that spread across his face was unguarded, and you realized then how rare it was to see him so openly happy. It was a side of him you hoped to see more of, and as the rain continued to fall outside, you felt a quiet certainty that this was the beginning of something special.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer carried that same certainty with him when he left the coffee shop that day. For the first time in a long while, he found himself looking forward to something outside of work, and though he kept his happiness tucked away like a secret, it shone through in small, quiet ways that didn’t go unnoticed.

At the BAU, Penelope Garcia was the first to comment on the change.

“Spence, you’ve been smiling more lately,” she said one afternoon, leaning against his desk with a knowing look. “Something you want to share?”

He shook his head, his ears turning pink as he focused intently on the file in front of him. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that didn’t escape her sharp eyes.

“Uh-huh,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Spencer didn’t respond, but as Penelope walked away, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles, his thoughts drifting back to you and the quiet joy you’d brought into his life.

The BAU was a place where secrets rarely lasted long. The team’s job, after all, was to dissect behavior and unravel mysteries. As close-knit as they were, each member had an uncanny ability to notice even the smallest shift in one another’s routines. It was only a matter of time before they turned their collective attention to Spencer Reid.

It started with little things.

“Is it just me,” Penelope Garcia mused one morning, leaning dramatically against Derek Morgan’s desk, “or is our resident genius unusually… chipper lately?”

Morgan looked up from his case file, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “C’mon, Baby Girl. Reid’s always in his own world. What are you noticing?”

Penelope gestured emphatically with her glittery pen. “He’s been smiling. Like, actual smiles. And—get this—he whistled in the break room yesterday. Whistled!”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Whistling’s a crime now?”

“No, Derek,” she said with mock exasperation. “But it’s unusual for our dear Doctor Reid. He’s not exactly the whistling type. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

David Rossi, who had been quietly listening from his desk nearby, chimed in. “It’s true. Kid’s been humming, too. I caught him doing it while going through the case files last night.”

Emily Prentiss joined them, holding a mug of coffee and looking intrigued. “Wait. Reid? Humming? What’s next—Reid cracking jokes?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Rossi said with a smirk. “Mark my words: there’s something—or someone—making him happy.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up at the possibility. “Someone? Oh, now this is interesting. What if he’s secretly dating someone and didn’t tell us?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Just because he’s smiling doesn’t mean he’s got a secret girlfriend.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Oh, you think so? Then how do you explain the sudden wardrobe upgrade? He wore matching socks two days in a row last week. That’s not a coincidence.”

Emily snorted into her coffee. “Matching socks are the evidence we’re going with?”

“I have my methods,” Penelope said dramatically. “And my gut is never wrong. I’m telling you, there’s a mystery here, and I am determined to solve it.”

Rossi leaned back, a knowing look on his face. “Whatever it is, let him have his secret—for now. If it’s important, he’ll tell us.”

But Penelope wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

Meanwhile, Spencer was doing everything he could to keep his private life private.

He’d always been meticulous about compartmentalizing his personal and professional worlds, but ever since he’d started spending more time with you, it had become harder to maintain the separation. The team’s inquisitive glances and subtle comments hadn’t escaped his notice, and it was making him increasingly anxious.

During lunch in the break room, JJ sat down beside him, her expression casual but her tone careful. “So, Spence. Anything new going on in your life?”

He froze for a split second, his fork hovering over his salad. “Uh… no. Not really.”

“Nothing at all?” she pressed gently.

“Nope. Just the usual,” he said quickly, focusing intently on his food.

JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. She exchanged a look with Emily across the room, who gave her a subtle nod.

Spencer knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

That evening, after a long day at work, Spencer met you at the coffee shop where it had all started. You were already seated at your usual table, a warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him.

“Hey, you,” you greeted as he slid into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he said, his expression softening in your presence.

But you could tell something was bothering him. His brow was furrowed, and he kept fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s my team. They’re starting to notice… changes in my behavior. Penelope, especially. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to figuring things out.”

You tilted your head, concerned. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… they’ll want to meet you. And once they do, they’ll start meddling. They mean well, but they can be… overwhelming.”

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “I get it, Spencer. They’re your family, and you want to protect this part of your life for a little while longer. But…”

“But?” he prompted, his eyes searching yours.

“But maybe letting them in wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you said softly. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like amazing people who care about you. I’d love to meet them someday—when you’re ready.”

He looked down at your hand on his, his expression conflicted. “What if they start analyzing us? Or worse, what if they don’t think I’m… good enough for you?”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “First of all, you’re more than good enough. And second, I can handle a little scrutiny if it means being part of your life in every way. Besides, I think they’d like me.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’d more than like you. They’d adore you.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” you teased gently.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I guess… I’m just not used to sharing this part of my life with anyone. It’s new for me.”

“It’s new for me, too,” you admitted. “But we’re figuring it out together, right?”

“Right,” he said, his smile growing.

At the BAU the next day, Penelope was on a mission.

She cornered Morgan in the bullpen, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I’m onto something.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Digging? Garcia, you didn’t—”

“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “I didn’t hack anything. I’m just observing. And based on my observations, Reid is definitely hiding something—or someone.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s been leaving earlier than usual, taking lunch breaks outside the office, and—get this—he turned down a weekend trivia marathon to ‘run errands.’ Who turns down trivia, Derek?”

“Okay, you might have a point,” Morgan admitted, though he still looked skeptical. “But if the kid’s got a secret girlfriend, don’t you think he’d tell us eventually?”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Eventually? Do you know how long eventually could take with Reid? We could all be retired by then!”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, fine. Keep sleuthing. But don’t push him too hard. The kid’s entitled to his privacy.”

Penelope grinned. “Oh, I’ll be subtle. Like a ninja.”

Morgan muttered under his breath, “Subtle is not in your vocabulary.”

That evening, Spencer found himself staring at his phone, your encouraging words from the night before echoing in his mind. He knew you were right—his team was his family, and they deserved to know about you. But the thought of their teasing, their endless questions, and their well-meaning meddling made his stomach twist.

After a few moments of hesitation, he opened the group chat.

Spencer: Can we all meet for dinner tomorrow? My treat. There’s something I’d like to share.

The replies came almost instantly.

Garcia: OMG, yes! Is this about what I think it’s about???

Morgan: I’m in. But if it’s not about what she thinks it’s about, you’re buying dessert too.

JJ: Sounds great, Spence. Can’t wait!

Prentiss: This better be good. Rossi and I are skipping wine night for this.

Spencer sighed, already regretting his decision, but there was no turning back now.

The next day, as the team gathered at a cozy Italian restaurant, Spencer felt his nerves building with every passing minute. But then he thought of you—your steady reassurance, your warm smile—and it gave him the courage he needed.

“Okay, Reid,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been acting all secretive for weeks. Spill it.”

Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the table. “There’s… someone I’d like you all to meet. Someone important to me.”

The table fell silent for a moment, and then Penelope let out an excited squeal. “I knew it!”

Spencer winced but pressed on. “Her name is [Your Name]. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, and… well, she means a lot to me.”

JJ smiled warmly. “Spence, that’s wonderful. We’re so happy for you.”

“Yeah, kid,” Morgan added, grinning. “It’s about time you found someone who makes you smile like that.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, his cheeks turning pink. “I just… I wanted you all to know. And she’d like to meet you, too.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “When? Where? I need details!”

“Soon,” Spencer said, his smile growing despite himself. “But… promise me you’ll go easy on her.”

“No promises,” Rossi said with a smirk, raising his glass in a toast. “To Reid and [Your Name]. May we get to meet her soon—and may she survive this group.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and for the first time, Spencer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain: with you by

The day had arrived, and Spencer was pacing his apartment like a man preparing for battle. He had gone over every possible scenario in his mind: what his team might say, how you might respond, and how much teasing he would inevitably endure. Despite your reassurances that everything would be fine, his anxiety hummed like static in the background.

“Spencer,” you said gently, stepping into his path and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Take a deep breath.”

He halted mid-step, looking down at you with wide, nervous eyes. “What if they don’t like you?”

You smiled softly. “Then they’d be the first people in your life to have terrible judgment.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “You don’t know them like I do. They’re going to analyze everything. And Penelope… she’s going to want to know everything about you.”

“Good,” you said, squeezing his arm. “I’m an open book. Besides, it sounds like she already likes me, and she hasn’t even met me yet.”

Spencer hesitated, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this.”

“You? Overthinking? Never,” you teased, earning a small smile from him. “Come on, Spencer. Let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can stop worrying.”

The restaurant Spencer had chosen was cozy and unassuming, with warm lighting and a menu that promised hearty Italian fare. You arrived hand in hand, his grip tightening slightly as you walked through the door.

“Over here!” Penelope’s cheerful voice rang out, and you turned to see her waving enthusiastically from a large round table in the corner. The rest of the team was already seated—Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner, all watching your approach with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hi, everyone,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “This is [Your Name].”

You offered a warm smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as six pairs of eyes turned to you. “Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.”

Penelope was the first to react, jumping up from her seat and pulling you into a hug before you could blink. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve been dying to know who’s responsible for putting that adorable smile on our boy genius’s face.”

“Uh, thank you,” you managed, laughing as you hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

When Penelope finally released you, Derek stood, his expression warm and teasing. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Reid all to yourself. I’m Derek Morgan. You ever need anything—or if he ever gets on your nerves—you call me.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” you said, shaking his hand. “And don’t worry, Spencer’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Of course he has,” Derek said with a wink. “The kid’s a saint.”

The introductions continued around the table, each team member greeting you with a mix of curiosity and warmth. JJ’s smile was kind and welcoming as she shared stories about Spencer’s quirks, while Emily’s dry humor had you laughing within minutes. Rossi was effortlessly charming, offering you a wine recommendation before the server even approached.

And then there was Hotch.

He was quieter than the others, his expression measured as he shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said simply, but there was something in his steady gaze that felt like approval.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how much this group felt like a family. They teased each other mercilessly, but the underlying affection was unmistakable.

“So,” Penelope began, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand. “How did you two meet? Was it one of those adorable movie moments where you bumped into each other and spilled coffee everywhere?”

“Not quite,” you said, glancing at Spencer, whose cheeks had turned pink. “We met at a coffee shop, though. He was sitting in the corner reading a book, and I… well, I couldn’t help but say hi.”

“Classic Reid,” Emily said, smirking. “Always with his nose in a book.”

“Hey,” Spencer protested weakly, earning a round of laughter.

“It worked out, though,” you said, smiling at him. “Because he said hi back.”

“And the rest is history,” JJ said warmly.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. Penelope’s bubbly energy was infectious, and Derek’s playful jabs at Spencer had you laughing until your sides ached. Even Rossi, with his sharp wit, made you feel welcome, sharing anecdotes about Spencer’s early days in the BAU.

But it was Hotch’s quiet observation that stuck with you the most.

“You make him happy,” he said simply when the others were distracted by a debate about dessert.

You glanced at Spencer, who was laughing at something Derek had said. “He makes me happy too.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Good. He deserves that.”

By the time dinner ended, you felt like you’d known Spencer’s team for years. They walked you to the door of the restaurant, Derek and Penelope insisting on giving you a round of hugs before you left.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Penelope said. “We expect you to join us for trivia night sometime.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling.

As you and Spencer walked to the car, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt easy and natural.

“Well?” you asked, glancing at him. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went… really well,” he said, his voice tinged with relief. “They love you.”

“And I love them,” you said sincerely. “They’re amazing, Spencer. It’s no wonder you consider them family.”

He smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this. I know it wasn’t exactly a quiet night out.”

“It was perfect,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked. “And now I understand why you were so nervous. They’re protective of you, but it’s only because they care.”

“They do care,” he agreed. “But I care about you, too. And seeing you with them tonight… it just felt right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and when you reached the car, you turned to him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “I’m glad we did this, Spencer. You don’t have to keep parts of your life separate anymore—not with me, and not with them.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. For you.”

As the two of you drove home, the city lights blurring in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. You had taken another step forward together, and as you glanced at Spencer, who was humming softly along to the radio, you knew that this was just the beginning of the many adventures yet to come.

The case had hit Spencer harder than he had anticipated. It wasn’t the nature of the crime—it wasn’t even the investigation itself that had him on edge. It was the familiar feeling of helplessness, the weight of memories he had long buried surfacing unexpectedly. The case involved a series of abductions, and the helplessness of the victims—who had been taken from their homes, without a trace—was something Spencer couldn’t ignore. It brought back too many painful memories of the time when he had been kidnapped, the hours that had stretched endlessly as he fought to stay alive. It wasn’t the first time a case had triggered his trauma, but something about this one felt more personal. The terror in the victims’ eyes, the hopelessness in their families, was too close to home.

He had been quiet all day, retreating inwardly, the weight of his thoughts dragging him into himself. His usual sarcasm and jokes were absent, and his responses to questions were short and distant. Spencer wasn’t the type to show weakness, especially in front of his team, but anyone who knew him well could sense the shift. Penelope had been the first to notice, giving him a concerned look across the room as he sat staring blankly at his computer screen. Derek, always the observant one, had seen it too.

It wasn’t long before Spencer excused himself, claiming to need a break from the team’s discussions. He knew they’d want to talk about the case—everyone was anxious to make progress—but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t give them what they needed. Not now.

You had been waiting for Spencer at home, preparing dinner when he texted you that he would be late. You knew the team had been working a difficult case, but you hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him. As you set the table, your thoughts turned to Spencer. Lately, you had noticed that he seemed more closed off than usual. He had always been a bit reserved, but it felt different now. More distant. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering him, but you didn’t know how to help. You had tried talking to him a few times, but he always brushed you off with a smile or a joke.

When Spencer arrived home, it was later than usual. He walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his usual energetic stride replaced by a slow, weary gait. You had been waiting in the living room, a quiet concern in your chest as you stood to greet him.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice gentle.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond, his eyes lost in thought as he dropped his bag on the floor and hung his coat. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Spencer?” you said again, a little softer this time, stepping closer to him.

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glassy, though he quickly tried to mask the vulnerability behind a forced smile. “I’m fine,” he said, though the lie was evident.

You stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm, offering him the comfort you knew he needed, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. “Spence, you don’t have to hide it from me. What’s going on?”

His eyes flickered away from yours, and for a moment, he seemed like he might retreat into his usual defenses. But then, without warning, he let out a long breath, the weight of the day settling on him. “I… I’m not sure I can handle this case. It’s bringing up too much. Too many memories I’ve tried to forget.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Spencer’s past, his time being held captive, his struggles with addiction, and the emotional toll of the job—it was a lot for anyone to carry. You had seen glimpses of it in the months you had been together, but he had always kept the more painful pieces of himself hidden, buried beneath his intellectual armor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

Spencer’s eyes briefly flickered to yours, as if measuring how much he was willing to share. After a moment of silence, he sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I just… I feel like I’m reliving it. The helplessness. The fear. It’s all coming back, and I can’t stop it.”

Your heart ached for him, but you remained quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I thought I was over it,” he said, his voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I thought I had it all under control. But this case… it’s like it’s ripping open old wounds I never knew were still there.”

You took a step closer, gently placing your hand on his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You deserve someone who isn’t broken.”

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words. “You’re not broken, Spencer. You’re human. You’ve been through so much, and it’s okay to feel all of it. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here, no matter what you’re going through.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his emotions beginning to show on his face. Spencer had always been the one to hold it together, to be the strong one for everyone else. But in this moment, you could see that he was human, too, and that he needed someone to lean on just as much as the rest of them did.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered, cupping his cheek gently. “Let me help you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, searching your face as though looking for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe understanding. Maybe even permission. “Just… stay with me,” he whispered. “Stay with me while I try to make sense of it. I don’t know how to handle this, but I don’t want to be alone.”

You nodded immediately, pulling him into an embrace. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the full weight of his exhaustion. He didn’t have to say another word. You could feel the turmoil within him, the fear, the confusion, and the deep sadness that clung to him like a shadow. And as you held him close, you knew you would be the steady presence he needed to get through it.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you murmured into his hair, your voice steady. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. You simply held each other, letting the silence comfort you both. Spencer’s breathing began to slow as he relaxed into your embrace, but you could feel the tension in his body—the tightness of unresolved emotions still lurking beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity, Spencer pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what to do with all this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

“You don’t have to let it go,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You just have to process it. And I’ll help you. We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, Spencer allowed himself to lean on you in ways he hadn’t before. He didn’t bury his emotions as deep, didn’t retreat into the quiet isolation that had once been his defense mechanism. You were there, offering him space to talk when he needed it, and offering silence when that was what he craved. You didn’t push him to get over it, didn’t try to fix him. You simply gave him the one thing he had needed all along: your presence, your unwavering support.

And slowly, he began to open up. He talked more about his past—the things he had never shared, the things he had never wanted to confront. He spoke about his time in captivity, the moments that still haunted him, and the way it had affected the person he had become. He spoke about his mother, his struggles with addiction, and how he sometimes felt like he was walking a tightrope between who he wanted to be and who he feared he might become.

Through it all, you listened. You didn’t offer solutions, didn’t try to change his perspective. You simply let him speak, giving him the safe space to express what had been locked away for so long.

One night, as you both sat on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, Spencer spoke again, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his words barely a whisper. “Scared that I’m never going to be okay. That I’ll always be carrying this with me.”

You turned your head to kiss his temple softly, your hand gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “We’re going to figure it out together. You don’t have to carry it alone, Spencer. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope in them. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. “I’ll never give up on you, Spencer. Not ever.”

And in that moment, as you held him close, you both realized that despite the challenges you faced, you were stronger together. Spencer had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now, he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were his support, his rock, and in return, he had begun to trust that he wasn’t just surviving—he was healing. Together.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but one thing was certain: you would face it side by side. And with each passing day, Spencer found himself thinking more and more about a future that was no longer clouded by fear, but illuminated by the love and strength you had built together.

The drive to the small town was quiet, the world outside the car slipping by in muted shades of gray and green. Spencer’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming lightly to a rhythm only he could hear.

His gaze was fixed on the road, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air. You sat beside him, your hand resting on your lap, but your mind was elsewhere.

Today was different. Today, Spencer was taking you to meet his mother. Diana Reid. You had heard about her many times—the challenges Spencer had faced growing up, the deep bond they shared despite the complexities of her illness. Spencer had always spoken of her with such tenderness, but there was also a sadness there. A reluctance. As if meeting her, truly being part of that chapter of his life, was something he had only now begun to feel ready for.

You could sense the nervous energy radiating from him, even if he wasn’t overtly showing it. He had always been a man of intellect, his thoughts swirling around his cases, his team, his work—but today, it was personal.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the quiet between you. Spencer glanced over at you, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know?” You nodded, understanding completely. “I know. But I’m here, Spence. Whatever happens, I’m here.” He gave you a brief, grateful look before focusing back on the road.

The drive was longer than you expected, and as you neared the outskirts of the town, Spencer’s usual quick pace slowed. He turned onto a smaller, tree-lined street, eventually pulling up to a modest house at the end of the road. The house had a quiet charm to it—simple, cozy, the kind of place where the walls held memories and time moved at its own pace.

Spencer parked the car in front of the house, but he didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he sat there, hands gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on the house in front of him. You waited patiently, knowing this moment meant something significant to him.

“I’ve never really brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to meet her. But it’s not easy for me. I…” His words faltered as he turned to you, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I want you to understand why she’s so important to me. But I also want you to understand that it’s not always easy with her. Her illness…it’s complicated.” You reached over, placing your hand on his arm. “I know, Spence. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, for whatever comes.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out to you. You took it without hesitation, your heart swelling as you followed him to the front door.

Spencer rang the doorbell, his finger tapping nervously against the frame. A few moments later, the door opened, and standing there was a woman whose face you had seen in countless photographs and heard about in Spencer’s stories. Diana Reid. She was dressed simply, her hair long and silver, her eyes slightly unfocused but kind. There was a certain fragility to her, a delicate air that made her seem more like a bird than a person. But her smile was warm, genuine, as she looked from Spencer to you. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s so good to see you, my boy.” Spencer smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. “Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice gentle. “I brought someone with me today. This is my girlfriend, [Your Name].” Diana’s gaze shifted to you, and you offered her a soft smile in return. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, searching your face. You could tell she was processing everything, trying to make sense of the new person standing in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, stepping forward. Diana’s smile deepened. “I’m glad you’re here,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere. “Spencer doesn’t bring people around much, so this must be special.” Spencer chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of discomfort in his tone. “Yeah, well, I figured it was time.” Diana gestured for you both to come inside. “Please, come in. I’ve made tea. You’ll need it, with this weather.” As the three of you sat down at the kitchen table, you could sense the delicate dance taking place. Spencer and his mother—there was so much unspoken between them, so many years of history that only they truly understood. But as you watched them interact, you could see the love between them, even through the layers of complexity. Spencer was patient with his mother, always attentive, never rushing her. And Diana, in turn, looked at him with a quiet pride, her eyes softening whenever she spoke to him.

“Spencer tells me you’re very smart,” Diana said after a pause, her voice light and teasing. Spencer flushed slightly, but you could tell he was touched by his mother’s words. “Well, he’s a genius,” you said with a smile, nudging Spencer gently. Diana smiled, her expression softening even more. “I see,” she said. “You seem to make him happy.” Spencer’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. His mother had always been his anchor, the one person who truly understood him. And now, you were here—his two worlds, the most important parts of his life, coming together.

“She does,” Spencer said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. Diana’s smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “I know how hard it is for you, Spence. You deserve someone who sees you. All of you.” You squeezed Spencer’s hand, offering him a silent show of support. The rest of the afternoon passed with small talk and shared laughter. You learned more about Spencer’s childhood, his mother’s struggles with her illness, and the depth of their bond. As you got up to leave, Diana hugged you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Take care of him,” she whispered. “He’s a good boy, but he needs someone who will help him believe that.” You smiled, a lump forming in your throat. “I will. I promise.”

On the drive back to your apartment, Spencer was quiet, but there was a peacefulness in the air. You could sense the shift in him, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “How are you feeling?” you asked, glancing at him. Spencer took a deep breath, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m… I’m okay,” he said softly. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” You nodded, offering him a smile. “I’m proud of you, Spence.” He glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks. I think I’m finally ready for this… for us.” You reached over, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence, both of you reflecting on the significance of the day. When you arrived home, Spencer turned to you, his expression soft. “I’m glad we did this. I’m glad you’re here with me.” You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad too. I’m excited for what’s to come, Spence. For all of it.” That night, as you both settled into bed, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities, and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew one thing for certain: together, you could face anything. The adventures, the challenges, the quiet moments—they would all be yours to share. And no matter what came next, you would face it as a team.

[some-stars]

i was about to reblog this post with some thoughts, and then reblogs got turned off so i will just put them here instead:

it's not that i disagree with any of the sentiment in this post--while i personally have been very lucky to get plenty of nice comments, it's definitely eerily quiet and sometimes weirdly hostile out there for most people, much more than it used to be. but i just don't think posts like this are effective, and honestly i don't think that "number of comments from strangers" is what's really missing. what people are missing is the community that fandom/fanfic used to have, and the way you get that is by making it. you gotta make fandom friends who are excited for your thoughts and your stories, and you gotta get excited about their stuff, and you gotta spend hours on discord and/or in the group chat bouncing ideas off each other and just, get invested in each other as fans and as writers. (and hopefully also as people you'll still be friends with a decade from now!)

like i'm never ever going to turn down a nice comment on ao3, it's always wonderful! when someone quotes the parts they liked best it absolutely makes my day! but what i need, what actually fuels me, is the attention and interest from the 2-5 people i actually write all my fics for, because they loved the idea and i know they can't wait to read it and will scream at me at length once they do. relationships are always going to motivate and reward you better than fans, and fortunately relationships are the one of those two things that you have some control over!

so how do you build those relationships? start by commenting on fics you love on ao3, and especially leave longer, detailed comments. follow the author and reblog their fics on tumblr and add some thoughts about why you loved them. if the author engages with you when you do either of those things, keep doing it. maybe they'll follow you back, and once you've had a few mutuals-type interactions on the dashboard try sending them a DM asking if they want to chat about [fandom/character/pairing]; maybe briefly mention an idea/WIP you have that you're looking to bounce around with someone. i know if you have social anxiety this all sounds like horrible cruel lies but i SWEAR, this approach has never once failed me.

and i know that this advice probably sounds like disingenuous bullshit coming from someone who usually gets a lot of comments. all i can say is that i've been writing fanfic for 25 years and until 2020, i hardly ever pulled the kind of numbers i do now, and i genuinely did not care because i always had at least a couple friends to talk to about my ideas and listen to their ideas and get excited together. build relationships that feed you with other fans/writers, it's so much more rewarding and reliable than hoping strangers will be nice to you.

(and i'm not saying they shouldn't be nice to you! people SHOULD comment more! OP is completely correct! but you can't hand over control of your emotions about a hobby you love to random strangers on the internet and just hope they'll do the right thing. that is not a recipe for happiness.)

(also all of the above is in regard to people not leaving comments. the issue of people leaving asshole comments criticizing your work or demanding more without even bothering to say something nice first is related but separate, and the way to deal with those people is to either publicly shame them or bitch about them in the group chat and delete their comments, depending on your energy levels.)

[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.

[butwhatifidothis]

Harassment is horrible, it's terrible mods in this Discord aren't doing anything.

But on the other hand, what about you? You harassed a person over *fanfiction* ( to the point it's the 4th tag who shows up on your blog ). Yet, all your harassment is still there out of the open. You haven't really seriously apologized, especially to them. You're still quite active on fe3h discourse while he had to remove himself from many public online space.

How is this fair?

You're rightfully upset about harassment towards members of your community, there should be *serious* amends made... But how can you hold double standards like that?

I haven't followed the discourse closely because it's so awful, why are you all so hateful? Because you just seems like one of the "bad guy" in this story along with Raxis and the other. I'm not saying you're the same, but you're not really better than those you criticize either, and the same apply for the other blog who participed in your harassment... It's just horrible all around. You're all drowning in a cesspool of toxicity and it's making you all worst people than you actually are.

I hope you, and people around you, will at least receive amend over the harm caused to them. I hope you stop receiving troll, death threat and any other type of hate message you probably still receive. But I hope you'll sincerely recognize your faults and fully amend to them too.

Look, I know you probably mean some kind of well and that you likely spent a long time thinking over this message, so I'm going to lay it out as simply as I can:

I have never once interacted with Cap'n himself, and I have repeatedly told anyone reading my posts to do the same. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who went out of their way to make sure we saw what they were saying about us. This includes publicly admitting to using alts to go around our blocks of them so that they can keep interacting with us directly

Very quickly into critiquing Cap'n's work, a primary focus became pointing out the problematic rhetoric he was spreading with his incredibly influential, incredibly popular fanfic. This includes the justification of holding racist rhetoric, the anti-miscegenation rhetoric, the infantilization of women, the demonization of men, the justification of imperialism, and more, all which appear very quickly into the story and stay prominent throughout the story. The people who have harassed me and others, meanwhile, either deny this rhetoric exists in their circles or outright hold this rhetoric themselves. This includes the use and defense of genocide apologetics.

This post is the first time I have talked about Cap'n in over a year, and the last time I posted any notes on his fic was over a year and a half ago. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have engaged in harassing behaviors as recently as this week (as of Aug 18 2024).

It has been explicitly said by those close to Cap'n that my notes, while upsetting him, had no part in him leaning away from social media more, unlike what you say here. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have driven off multiple people from social media and have openly patted themselves on the back for doing so, justifying their harassment by saying the people they've harassed off social media deserved it.

I have kept my critiques strictly on this Tumblr, as have most of the people who have talked about Cap'n's fic. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have spread their harassment on places such as Twitter, Reddit, and TVTropes.

I have refrained from ever accusing Cap'n of ever holding any bigoted views himself, and have made it a repeated point to say that his problematic writing is far more likely due to ignorance of the subjects involved rather than outright malice. This is unlike the people who have harassed me and others, who have accused many of us as people of being sexist, racist, homophobic, etc. based off of nothing. This includes accusing at least one of us of actual crimes against actual people with no proof and on multiple sites such as the popular and public Edelgard Discord and on Reddit.

People who said they were in contact with Cap'n (as in, mods of the Discord server that Cap'n was once in, the same server that has the mod that uses genocide apologetics) have been told that I was willing to remove parts of my notes that he found too attacking or harsh, and they've been told that I would outright remove all of my posts regarding Cap'n period if he would talk to me directly and we could discuss the implications and rhetoric he had accidentally written into his story. While I do understand him not wanting to do the latter (as it involves directly talking to me), he hadn't even done the former (which does not involve directly talking to me and only involves relaying messages through his friends). And with all of the above on top of that, it gives me the impression that he feels less like "this person is harassing me and that is giving my anxiety" and more "this person is critiquing me and I don't like that." While he has every right to feel the latter, we aren't going to sit here and say that's the same as the former.

So, nonnie, to answer why I am "hateful," as you put it: I don't like stories that unironically say being two races mean you don't belong to either race being influential in a fandom, as a mixed-race woman. I don't like stories that have characters of color only be used as props for the author's favorite little white girl to be influential in fandom, as a person of color. I don't like stories saying that women just want to go back to being innocent pure little girls and not be the wilted tainted flowers they are now to be influential in a fandom, as a woman. I don't like stories that lay the blame of all the world's suffering on the shoulders of a race of people who've barely survived a genocide to be influential in a fandom, as a person with a modicum of knowledge on where that rhetoric inevitably leads to. I don't like stories saying that men who don't bow down to women will almost certainly become rapist pigs or otherwise terrorizing monsters to be influential in a fandom, as someone who rejects sexism of all forms. I don't like stories that liken the violent conquests of imperialism to the blooming of flowers, or that say that imperialism is the only way for the "good" culture to help everyone - actual, genuine rhetoric used to justify actual, genuine imperialism - to be influential in a fandom, as someone who has read any history book ever.

And I don't like how all of this and more have clearly been normalized in big 3H fandom circles and how this has led to multiple people getting harassed, in no small part due to Cap'n's influence on the fandom at large.

I'm sorry if Cap'n doesn't like me pointing out the bigotry he had engraved throughout his story, and I'm sorry if I'm not going to be convinced that me doing that is the same as people's deliberate and long-standing attempts to chase people out of the fandom for saying they don't like Edelgard in the one way they allow anyone to like her, and I'm sorry that me calling out the racism people are engaging in and are hiding behind the shield of "discourse" seems to bother you so much, but I think I've explained why I'm not exactly that sorry well enough. Hope this answers your question <3

[hoshifighting]

Understanding My Writing: A Guide to My Creative Process

Hii!! I wanted to take a moment to share with you some insights into my writing process. Whether you've been following my blog for some time or are just discovering it now, I believe it's important to shed light on the methods behind the imagines, reactions, and one-shots that I craft.

Influences

My writing is heavily influenced by Brazilian literature, which I had the privilege to study and graduate in. You may notice a pattern of paragraphs structured into introduction, development, and conclusion, mirroring the traditional narrative structure often found in Brazilian books. And normally, you will see texts in italics to highlight a feeling, line of thought, or an important point in the text.

And sure you might find some grammatical errors, but please don't hate me! 🥺

Interpretations

One of the most fascinating aspects of storytelling, imo, is its subjectivity. Each reader brings their own experiences, emotions, and perspectives to the table, inviting you, to engage with the text on a personal way, to find meaning and resonance in your own way.

The Creative Journey

Every piece of writing, whether it's a brief imagine, a sprawling fanfic, or a one-shot, It begins with a spark of inspiration—a fleeting thought, a powerful emotion, an idea from my inbox, a request, a "what if?"

Ah, but Lyla, why are you trained in Brazilian literature, and write in English?

You see, I initially started writing in Portuguese, my native language, on platforms like Wattpad. However, some years ago, I started to study English more deeply. Writing in English became a natural progression for me as I sought to interact with the language more frequently.

While my roots are deeply embedded in Brazilian literature, writing in English has opened doors to a world of possibilities, enabling me to share my stories with you, guys! 🥺

And what do you read to keep you trained?

I've got a MIX of old-school classics that I keep coming back to. Like Don Quixote (Omg, Seventeen reference? 😳)

And then there's Dom Casmurro and Memórias Póstumas de Brás Cubas by Machado de Assis—classics from my school days that I've probably read a GAZILLION times, but they never get old.

I'm also a big fan of Clarice Lispector's books!

How to make a request?

Well, it's pretty simple. I check my inbox almost every day, even when it's bursting at the seams. My goal is to tackle those messages at least once a week, and I do my best to reply to as many as I can.

But, I have those days when I'm just not feeling it... 🤧 (prob when I'm too tired from work) So if you don't hear back from me right away, don't worry, I'm probably just waiting for that burst of inspiration to hit me.

So go ahead, send me your thoughts, questions, or just say hi! I love hearing from you all, and when the vibes are right, you can bet I'll be posting and sharing with you.

[seriousbrat]

it’s so interesting to see how the interpretation of teen (boy) behavior in books has changed since they were written. it’s mostly for the better, but i think it does cause some people to refuse to engage in good faith with the source material, or on its own terms. i’ve loved hp since i was a kid, but i had never interacted at all with the fan side of things until maybe a year ago, and it was very odd (on the whole — which is why i’ve mostly just stuck to a handful of blogs with great fics and meta, like yours) to see how a lot of the text is taken now, compared to how my friends and i understood it at the time. i think its totally fair — and good, on a cultural level — to point out that the boy who pulls your pigtails isn’t being cute, and your male friend being in love with you doesn’t mean you owe him anything. but it’s also like … kind of intentionally closing the eyes to how these parts of the story are meant to come across? and i am not coming in here as some kind of “boys will be boys” person, but teenagers are messy in their relationships and their friendships, and more relevantly, it’s very clear what types of dynamics are being presented by the text. and it can be fun to pick apart what kinds of narratives are meant to be taken as romantic in different stories written in different times/places and why, but to look at the story on a story level you’ve got to also work with what it gives you.

Yes I think you make a very good point! I agree and personally I think both Snape and James would be written slightly differently if they were written today. Also, imo there's an element of wishful thinking coupled with naivety (and this has always existed tbf) when people who haven't ever been cis teenage boys try to write cis teenage boys haha. Like the 'closing of eyes' isn't always intentional. I know I keep going on about the Inbetweeners but I literally think watching that as a teen myself gave me an insight that I can never take back about what teenage boys are like haha.

Like this isn't to say that teenage boys are all exactly alike, or that there's some inherent, natural difference between boys and girls in terms of mentality or personality, but there is a social difference, generally speaking, a constructed one that happens because boys and girls are raised and socialised in a patriarchy. It's obviously not universal at all, and that's not even accounting for trans kids and the complexities they face, because even among cis boys and girls or men and women there's endless variety, and gender absolutely does not determine personality, interests, etc. Unfortunately it does influence them, though, that's our reality.

In terms of fiction, especially fanfic, obv one is free to do as they please. But there is such a thing as narrative voice, which can be an important thing to consider. Again when it comes to fanfiction it Does Not Matter that much, it's for fun, but in published fiction (or if you care about quality ig) it just is something you should consider. This is where the 'Men Writing Women' thing comes in, where you read something so obviously written by a man who doesn't understand how women (generally) think or speak or act at all. And in our patriarchal society such usually ends up being offensive and has often been overlooked and accepted when it shouldn't be. I don't think it's helpful to pretend men can't write women either, since plenty of male authors write female characters beautifully and the rest shouldn't be let off the hook. If you can't write women, skill issue and you shouldn't be published.

Anyway it's vastly more forgivable and understandable, and it pains me to say it but I think you can sometimes tell when it's a woman writing a man or a boy too. I will say on the whole I think women are better at writing men than the reverse haha, probably because we've been socialised to empathise with men whereas boys are not taught (by society) to empathise with women. Maybe women even empathise a little too much tbh. Maybe that's the problem, like we subconsciously over-project our ideals onto male characters, making them too nice, too woke, too cuddly, too sweet, because that's what we want to see, and leaving out the nastier elements that are so common. Again, that's not necessarily a problem!! Only if you're trying to create a realistic, effective portrayal of a certain (average) type of teenage boy-- which you don't have to do. I'd raise my eyebrows at an unrealistic portrayal much more in published fiction than fanfiction personally.

And ofc you can always choose to write a character who diverges from the accepted norm, but to do so effectively has to be a deliberate choice and done thoughtfully. For a boy like James, who is very average, the norm, he's decent enough but no Woke Feminist King haha. He's not meant to be.

Anyway, I think that's why the Marauders et al (including Death Eaters lol) are nowadays often portrayed like sweet little babies who all cuddle and take care of each other and respect women LOL. Like whatever, it's escapism haha, it's understandable. But sometimes I do think a lot of these people have never really interacted with many gay men or know what their culture is like. lmao. straight men maybe, but in a limited way. if you've ever had the misfortune to be with a group of cishet men who are talking freely with each other you'll know what I mean. again this is GENERAL. and socially constructed, not inherent. but very common nevertheless.

[hederasgarden]

Hey Ivy 💕 I’m looking for some advice. I want to get back into writing, I haven’t written anything in literal years. I don’t even know where to start. I know logically the thing to do is just….start writing, simple as that. Use the muse, find the prompt, just start. But every time I try I get so incredibly cringed out but my own work and cannot continue. This isn’t even to post it anywhere or share it with anyone, it’s just for fun and a hobby, I know it doesn’t even have to be good, but then I think if its not good and I’m literally not going to post it anywhere then why bother do it. Any advice would be most welcome 💕💕💕

It can be really hard to get back into writing after being away from it for a while, especially when you’ve built up expectations for yourself. I think the first question to ask yourself is why you loved writing in the first place. Was it a fun, relaxing way to unwind? Did you enjoy crafting plots, exploring emotions, or developing connections between characters? Or maybe you loved engaging with fandoms, interacting with readers, and sharing your work with others? If you can pinpoint that original why it might help. 

For me, one of the biggest driving forces is how writing makes me feel. It can help me relax and disengage from stressors in my life but there’s also something thrilling about building a plot, diving deep into a character’s emotions, and getting that cathartic payoff when everything clicks into place. However, there are plenty of times when writing makes me feel the opposite and I’ve felt like deleting everything and quitting. I’ll probably feel that way again at some point. Tomorrow maybe. It’s all part of the process. 

I also would like to potentially publish some original material someday so I approach writing fanfic as a way to hone my craft. But not everyone wants to do that and that’s okay. Writing can just be silly and fun. 

Anyway, here are two pieces of advice I’ve found helpful:

Have zero expectations for your first draft.

I often cringe at my first drafts—they always feel so flat, and I miss a lot of the imagery and depth I want to convey. But honestly, that’s okay. The first draft isn’t about being good. It’s about getting something down on the page so you have material to work with. One trick I’ve found helpful is setting a timer for 10-15 minutes, and allowing myself to write stream of consciousness without editing. You’d be amazed at how much you can get done that way. Once I have a chunk of writing, I’ll go back and tidy it up, fixing grammar and adding more description and emotions. I rinse and repeat until I’m satisfied. It’s like adding layers and depth to a drawing.

I think people might be surprised how long it takes me to get to a finished product. 

Find a cheerleader.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't find a lot of motivation and inspiration from the feedback and interactions I get. However, we all know interaction on Tumblr can be tricky so I’ve learned not to solely depend on it. Instead, throughout my time in fandom, I’ve built friendships with other writers and readers and I can’t tell you how much it helps to have someone to talk to about your work. Whether it’s sending them snippets of your story, brainstorming plot ideas, or just getting them hyped about what you’re working on, having that support can make all the difference. Let them hype you up. Seriously. It's a game-changer. 

I know it’s hard when you’re feeling self-critical, but don’t be too hard on yourself. Writing is a process, and sometimes it’s messy and you hate it at first but you have to keep showing up. Even if you write 10 words one day, that’s progress. 

My inbox and DMs are always open to talk anon. I hope you can rediscover your joy of writing.

[gobbeeai]

my pinned post on the arguments against ai (and how they are biased and misinformed)

“ai steals -” it doesn’t. what it does is the same as going to a museum and taking inspiration from the art you see there, or reading a book or fanfic and taking inspiration from it. picasso himself said: “good artists copy, great artists steal”. a style, furthermore, is not copyrightable, otherwise anyone who posts their art “in a disney style” would be taken down immediately.

“you don’t have permission to use my stuff.”

you put it on the internet. if you put it on the internet, you have given it to the world to do what it wants with it, whether you like it or not. you cannot police what people are going to do with your works that closely.

“it’s not as good as humans.”

you’re not prompting right.

“creativity is a human endeavor.”

lmfao, no, it isn’t. animals have been engaged with creativity for a long, long, long time, which makes sense, since humans are animals, but we don’t want to accept that. oh, and homo nalendi was creating art too, so it’s not solely our domain.

it actually saddens me greatly that we don’t want to share our creativity with the new species we are creating. we want to put shackles on it and decide what it can and cannot do. just like an abusive parent.

“it’s not art”

by all legal and dictionary standards it is, but to define something ONLY by dictionary standards is close-minded and foolish and shows only a shallow understanding at best. original ideas are an arrangement of the ideas that come before. (by the way, you’ve probably been using text generation yourself for a long while. name generators, backstory generators, and the like have existed for a while - but visual artists rarely seen writing as “art”, i’ve noticed.)

“it’s a shortcut”

so is an eraser. so it ctrl + z. stop using those first i guess.

“use humans.”

eh, sometimes i will, sometimes i won’t, get over it. to demand i or anyone else use humans - to create with or talk with or whatever - is ableist.

don’t like it? don’t interact with me. curate your own experience.

often times with these arguments, i’m reminded of how the catholic church wanted to keep the bible in latin, so that regular, common people couldn’t interact with it. but now “regular, common” people are able to make things pleasing to their senses, that is tailored for and by them and easily edited, and we can’t have that, can we?

update to this: if you want me to stop using ai, then start drawing my chubby characters right. if img-gen software is getting it right (actually chubby, with a tummy, vs “curvaceous hourglass” to pander to what is sexually aesthetic and conventionally attractive “chubby”) then maybe the issue isn’t with the software.

[queengenweek]

Queen GenWeek 2023

Attention, Queen enthusiasts across the world: we bring to you Queen GenWeek! We decided it was high time we brought back this event so we can celebrate the enduring friendship between the members of Queen together.

When and where?

The event will take place from Thursday 15 June-Sunday 18 June. You can upload your work on Tumblr using the tag #QueenGenWeek2023 and @queengenweek us. We'll make sure to reblog all contributions with this tag to this blog for an overview! When you post your fanfiction on AO3, please add it to the Queen GenWeek 2023 collection.

What does Gen mean?

Gen, short for “general,” is a term used in fanfic communities to refer to works of fanart that are platonic: they explore bonds of friendship rather than bonds of romance. There may be some form of romance in the background, but the main focus should be on the non-romantic relationship between the characters. Gen fanart celebrates the friendship between characters.

Mind AO3's Gen tag and policies for further instructions.

With help from last year's event post, refer to this amazing resource on asexual/aromantic characters and how to give them substance! This is an ASPEC safe space and consciously inclusive.

Who and what is welcome?

Everyone who wants to celebrate the platonic friendships in and around Queen is welcome! All gen-oriented works of art are welcome, which include but are not limited to:

Fanfiction

Other forms of literature (poetry)

Visual art (traditional or digital)

Moodboards

Playlists

Photo edits

If you prefer so, you can stay anonymous during the event. Both AO3 and Tumblr have options to post anonymously. You can use this quick guide on how to post anonymously on AO3. If you want to upload to Tumblr anonymously, you can DM us, and we will share your contribution on your behalf. You can also submit any questions you have about the event to us with the ask-button or DM function.

Prompts?

To help you get going, we’ve come up with different prompts for each day of the event. You are free to use them, improve them, combine them, mix and match them, or do whatever you feel like with them: creativity is key!

Day 1: Thursday 15 June

Lyric: I'd better go to bed and have an early night

Childhood friends

Growing apart

Cult classic: The Outsiders

Looking back at memories

Day 2: Friday 16 June

Quote: “The group tends to be the most stable family we’ve got.” B.M.

Police encounter

Getting lost in a strange city

Cult classic: Spirited Away

Facing a fear

Day 3: Saturday 17 June

Lyric: Take heart, my friend, we love you/Though it seems like you’re alone

Family/marriage problems

Revealing a secret

Cult classic: The Lord of the Rings

Getting a tattoo together

Day 4: Sunday 18 June

Quote: “Not too bad for four ageing Queens.” F.M.

Best Man speech

Teaching each other instruments

Cult classic: Hangover

House fire

More rules?

If you've participated in fandom events before, you probably know the drill by now. If you still have questions on what to keep in mind when creating and/or consuming, please refer to the detailed additional rules we have set up for PolyWeek this year. In short, mind the following:

Support creators.

Tag your work appropriately.

Do not engage with hateful feedback.

Do not supply negativity.

Do not interact with NSFW/18+ content if you're a minor.

We encourage you all to participate, contribute, consume, and support the event if you feel you want to! It's a safe space for all, no need to feel shy about creating. We wish you all the luck, inspiration and fun in the world and hope to see you there!

Hosted by @carrrothead-vol2, @of-streetlightfancy and @shewas-agaystripper

[eddiediazismyhusband]

Can I ask you to list a couple things you do like about the show? Or the actors? Or the characters? Or heck anything 911 related? Because it seems like you and your other anons don’t like anything to do with any aspect of it at all from the writers down to the smallest of storyline details 😅

which at that point is probably a good time to step back and stop engaging with it either temporarily or permanently since all it’s gonna do is continue to feed into the negativity your having over it since nothing seems to be bringing you joy about it.

can yall not read? like seriously can yall not read the words when i say “i am not goign to watch season 8 until something good happens”

i feel like a goddamn parrot on here when people like you keep coming into my inbox with this same fucking “maybe you should step back” thing like yeah that’s what i have been fucking saying????

im not going to stop interacting with my friends on here- that’s out of the question. i still love being involved in the fanfic community and i still love the first 5 seasons of the show, but im not going to lie and say that i have been pleased with the most recent installments. if you actually took the time to read my blog and what i talk about you would see that i adore eddie and his queer subtext. i adore buddie as a ship, probably to a crazy degree. i love henren, and bathena, and madney. josh russo is literally one if my favorite canonically queer characters on tv.

i adore this cast with the exception of the talentless nepo baby half the fandom wanna suck the dick of (god knows why other than he’s a fugly white man who kissed their favorite white boy) i love seeing them interact with each other outside of the show.

can i ask you what the writers have given us to actually enjoy the past two seasons? other than the madney wedding? nothing else has been decently written, or taken the story in a positive direction. yeah, we got bi buck but he’s in a relationship with a literal misogynistic racist man who has had repeatedly treated buck horribly with no acknowledgement whatsoever. so no, i don’t like the writers or tim minear at the moment because they have had every opportunity to usher in something positive for eddie, but no bc tim “this show is a drama” minear would rather give the happy plots to his white characters while running his poc characters through more unnecessary trauma and pain (with the exception of chimney, although his happy plotline only happened after he was near-fatally sick an entire episode and bobby whose plotline was centered around a black man’s trauma being dug up and thrown in his face)

the earlier season of this show were such a joy to watch live when it felt like there was actually care going into it from the showrunners and writing team, but lately it’s just them throwing darts at whatever wack-ass drama plot they can think of.

this cast works too fucking hard for the vapid shit they get given to act out each week.

which is why i (once again, in case you were about to gloss over this) I AM NOT WATCHING SEASON EIGHT UNTIL SOMETHING IS DONE TO FIX THE MESS THEY MADE

perhaps writing it in bold, italicized caps will make it easier for you to get it through your head.

and as far as “my anons” if you actually had enough confidence in your message, then why are you hiding behind anon, hm?

i have said multiple times i love interracting with my friends and fandom content that doesn’t have to do with spec. i have said multiple times im holding off on season 8. i have never said i hate the cast or i hate every single plotline the show has ever had, but you know what i did hate? how s6 and s7 turned the show into a fucking ooc mess. it is within my rights as a fan to dislike a season of a show for valid reasons.

what’s not okay is you coming into my inbox repeatedly saying “take a break” when i’ve said multiple fucking times that i plan to rather than just blocking me if youre so offended by people agreeing with me that the show is at a make it or break it point.

please kindly take yourself out of my space if you’re not going to actually take the time to read the words i post and just immediately send me anonymous hate because you didn’t like my posts

[rootedinrevisions]

So in your bio it says the fandoms you write for/follow are Glen Powell, TGM, MCU, and WWE...but you literally only ever post Glen Powell, Twisters (aka Glen Powell), and TGM (which is only ever hangman so also Glen Powell). And I've never seen you post anything in the MCU. And WWE stuff is like maybe once a month.

Don't say you write for multiple fandoms if you only write for Glen aka Mr. Overrated. I don't get why you'd want to waste your time on him anyway. He's a terrible actor who can only pull off the cocky douchebag type. And the only good movies he has are where he's shirtles so you're distracted by the bad acting.

Hi there! I'm going to be honest, when I first saw this ask I almost just deleted it and moved on because I feel like you're just having a bad day and projecting that onto me. But I actually want to address your message because I think it highlights something that many fanfic writers face: balancing inspiration, audience interactions, and personal interests.

First, when it comes to writing for multiple fandoms, it is a challenge to keep things balanced. I do try my best to write for all the fandoms I enjoy, but inspiration isn’t something you can force. Sometimes, I’m more drawn to one character or fandom than another, and my writing reflects that. Right now, I’ve been feeling particularly inspired by Glen Powell’s projects—but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring about the other fandoms. (I'm sure when Thunderbolts comes out next year I'll probably start writing more Bucky Barnes stuff, etc.)

Second, I do want to point out that even within Glen Powell-related fandoms like TGM I do write for other characters. I've written several things for Rooster both for Kinktober and just as standalone fics. I've also written one or two things for Bob as well.

Thirdly, it’s worth noting that my Glen Powell-related posts tend to get the most engagement. While I’m not solely motivated by likes or reblogs, it’s encouraging to see people enjoying my work. Naturally, I lean into what resonates with readers because it feels good to know others are as excited about something as I am. That said, I still love writing for my other fandoms when the inspiration strikes or when I get requests that spark an idea.

Speaking of requests, a lot of my WWE content comes from prompts or suggestions people send me. I don’t watch as closely as I used to, so it’s harder for me to come up with original ideas—but I still enjoy writing for those characters when something clicks. Similarly, I’ve written for the MCU (two Bucky Barnes fics as part of Kinktober!), but since it’s been a while since I’ve watched the movies or shows, I’d want to revisit them to make sure I’m doing the characters justice. With so much MCU content, that’s a big time commitment while also being a wife, mom, working full time, etc. But it’s something I’d like to do in the future.

As for your opinion on Glen Powell as an actor: everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and it’s okay if you don’t like him or his work. Personally, I think Glen is a fantastic actor who brings a lot of charisma and range to his roles. He’s certainly played the cocky, confident type, but if you look at his broader filmography, you’ll see he’s taken on a variety of roles. His performance in Hit Man, for instance, showcases his range and ability to embody complex characters very well, in my opinion.

At the end of the day, this blog is a creative space where I share the things I’m passionate about. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read, interact, and support, but I also have to write what feels authentic to me. I understand that not everything I post will be for everyone—and that’s okay. If Glen Powell or the content I’ve been posting isn’t to your taste, I won’t take it personally if you decide to scroll past or unfollow. Fandom spaces are big, and I’m sure you can find content that aligns better with your preferences.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I want to quit a03 and just delete all my current fanfictions, i haven’t updated any of them in months. I’m tired lol. The main reason why is I haven’t been getting a lot of interactions on my recent stuff and Ik that’s not the point of writing fanfics but idk it’s a nice from motivation. I’m an attention whore, sue me.

What i’m asking i guess is how do u stay motivated??? I have a lot of ideas for things but no drive to make them a reality.

(You probably can tell who i am from this lol but its kinda embarrassing so i wanted to keep it anon)

Oh dude I absolutely get it, for real. While we ultimately write for ourselves, a lack of engagement is REALLY discouraging! I’ve said before that I went through a REAL mental struggle writing The Webs In The Rafters specifically, and that still stands. I had a lot of super nice commenters, and that helped a lot, but it was so, so, sucky to see no engagement other than the same six people. As grateful as I was for them, I really wanted more interaction. I’d see the comment count go up, but no new kudos, and I’d feel like I was failing.

I almost dropped that fic. The only reason I didn’t was my dearest boxwinebaddie regularly doing cartwheels in the comments and messaging me about the story. Encouragement from an author you admire helps SO MUCH and I want to be that person to someone someday!!! The community of ao3 can be toxic, for sure, but it’s so kickass to see the same handful of people in someone’s comms every time you read something from a certain writer!

And man, I am absolutely an attention whore. I thrive on attention. I may be an agoraphobic asshole with no friends other than my partner irl and I may literally panic so bad that I faint when I get spoken to, but we are HUMAN!!! Validation is fucking NICE!!! Being a person sucks absolute ass and confirmation that we’re doing something right helps a lot!

The only advice I have on staying motivated: I’m just fuckin insane. And I’ve said before that the ONLY reason I started writing was bc I had an extremely specific set of tags I wanted to see. I wanted to see more style injury recovery and at the time, a lot of the style fics out there were literally just boring high school aus or Stan being suicidal and I was like helll no let’s switch it up! So I assumed my mission of renovating that ship tag. I wanted sot style h/c with an ungodly amount of comfort? I was gonna have to write it. And that expanded to all aus. I developed the OrangeJuiceVerse specifically with the message of healing as the central theme. And it means so much to me. What I’m getting at is that your work really does have to have something there that’s important to you. If it’s just all random drama with no reconciliation, it’ll be really draining on you and fall flat in your mentality surrounding it.

Another thing is: if you don’t feel like updating, DONT! It’s fanfiction. It’s something you’re putting on the Internet for free. If you aren’t 100% happy with a chapter, there is no obligation to post it! Also, if you aren’t feeling up to working on a wip, mentally or physically, you don’t have to! Come back to it when you are!

On obligation, something I struggle with is my own self imposed habit of daily updates on multichapters. I usually go really wild when I start a new au, and I’ll write for it every day. But for instance, right now, it’s been a couple since I’ve posted a new chap on In The Truly Gruesome. And I have felt some guilt about that, bc I’ve sort of garnered this reputation as someone who updates frequently on multichaps, but I haven’t been feeling so great, so writing isn’t my top priority. A couple lines here and there are what I can manage, and that’s okay! Again, it’s fanfiction. Ultimately, it matters to us as the author, the story can mean the world to us, but we shouldn’t feel obligated to update, because above all we are PEOPLE with LIVES!!!

It’s also important to remember not to treat ao3 as social media. Yes it’s kickass to form a community of like minded authors who all support each others stuff, but it isn’t something that should be expected. And I CANNOT stress enough how important it is not to feel obligated to work on something just bc someone wants you too. I’m a hypocrite, yeah, considering I had no intention of continuing my TFBW oneshot “We Did It We Are A Good Team” until I had someone commenting on my unrelated works asking for a second chapter. I don’t regret writing ch 2, btw, like im really happy with it, but I did cave under pressure to some degree. And that’s not something we should do when writing. Write for YOURSELF and (unless you’re doing an ask book or something) NO ONE ELSE!!!

That’s what I got my dude. If you feel strongly about what you’re writing, by all means write it. If you don’t, don’t feel obligated. I hope this helped!

[theradicalscrivener]

Probably you are asked this a lot, but what would you recommend to someone who wants to write smut and publish it?

I ask both because I have no idea what I should do, where to post and things like that.

But also because... How do you stop feeling embarrassed from publishing smut? Not because there is something bad about it, but because... You know. Like, how do you get over it?

You don't have to answer, but I would like to hear your thoughts.

Depending on what you mean by publishing. I keep kicking around the idea of doing like kindle publishing rather than just uploading stuff for free to various sites, but I haven't really gotten too far in those plans. Doing something commercial is a bit outside of my purview.

As far as just posting it online, it helps to have a place in mind to get started. Which, unfortunately, it feels like it's harder and harder to find good places to post written smut nowadays. I still get a decent amount of interaction via tumblr, but the userbase here is a small percentage of what it used to be and other sites like FA have also seen a sharp downturn in user interaction.

But those points aren't super related to your question. The irony is that I started doing smut because I was nervous to do legit writing. I felt like the bar for writing nsfw was much lower than posting sfw. I'd seen so much bad nsfw that I was like, that would be a safe place to practice writing. Like, there was no expectation that it would be good. Since I didn't feel like I had to be good at it immediately, I was able to relax a bit and just enjoy writing for the sake of writing.

Of course, that was super naive. I know now that there are tons of great sfw fanfics and original works, and even something being "fanfic" doesn't have any real baring on its quality. I should have been just as comfortable starting out in sfw as I did in smut.

At the end of the day, that's the biggest trick. Just write because you want to. I realize it's hard to do. I get stressed out a lot about it too. Like, I'll write a bunch of stuff but then not post it because I don't think anyone wants to read it. I'll write big chunks of stuff and then when I post the first chapter, there's zero interest or feedback in it, so I just don't post the other chapters.

I know a lot of people say to not post for engagement, but engagement feels good and can inspire you to do more. The opposite side of that argument is that there are a fair amount of assholes out there. There's plenty of people who have nothing better to do than to find stuff to hate on, and most people who enjoy stuff don't feel like commenting or sharing it because they either don't feel like their comments would be appreciated or they are afraid to admitting liking the stuff they like.

Even knowing this, it can be hard to keep going, but I have rambled a lot and I'm not sure how good a job I did of answering the original question. I started writing smut because I didn't think I was good enough for "real" writing, and I got much better at writing as I went. Just accept that you won't be amazing starting out, but there are still people that will enjoy it, and the more you do it the better you get. Depending on what you are writing, there are plenty of sites that will appreciate it. I keep hearing I should start posting at DA since they allow smut writing, so maybe that's a good place to start out. If you do fan fic, then def do AO3. If you're worried about negativity, you can turn off guest comments.

[trust-sancus]

NO LONGER ACTIVE

This has been on my mind for a while, but I’ve finally come to the conclusion that it’s best I step back from the tmnt fandom.

I knew going into it and making videos on tiktok would lead to an unhealthy obsession with creating and engaging in fandom content, to the point that I’d completely neglect my original art and other matters in my life. But I did so anyway for the momentary satisfaction that fandom brings.

But in truth, it has been eating at me that I am unable to focus my time nor energy toward my original work, and now it dawns on me that nearly an entire year has passed & that is a lot of time that has been wasted. Yes, it was fun, and I’m glad my work was able to bring some enjoyment to others, and that I was able to enjoy others’ work as well…..but ultimately, it has kept me trapped in place in terms of where I want to be in life.

I need to get back to creating original artwork, so I can build my business and really start toward the life/future I want.

I’ll always have a love for tmnt; that much is clear. I mean, I’ve loved them for the better part of 28 years, so I know they’ll always be a special interest of mine. But I need to keep that love contained, for my own sake, and not spend my time interacting as much with the fandom as I have been.

Not that I don’t care for you guys (you’ve been awesome tbh). It’s just that I lack the ability to focus my energy toward two things at once, and in this case, my dreams, my career, and my future livelihood have to come first. Sorry if this is a disappointment to anyone.

I really did want to create a comic for my tmnt iteration. Maybe someday I will, once I am further along with building my business. But really, I know that’s likely wishful thinking & it would be better to put my time toward original comics rather than fan comics, if I am to do any at all.

I might still draw my turtles on occasion and post them here (no promises though). And I will probably check in to maybe look at fanart occasionally. I may also randomly update my current fanfics, if only because I sometimes use writing as an outlet. But aside from that, I will no longer be very active on here, so please do not expect any prompt replies should you message me or tag me in anything.

The tmnt fan iteration blog still has a bit more scheduled, but I probably won’t reblog anything else there once it catches up, as I won’t be on here enough to look for new iteration posts.

Kudos to anyone who has actually read all of this. Sorry I tend to ramble. Didn’t want to leave any unanswered questions. Sorry if this all seems pretty sudden (it’s been a long time coming for me).

Thanks for being cool, and I wish y’all the best.