#god I love this shitshow of a site

[tasteslikeregret]

Love that the Pikachu man has been replaced by Has Way Too Much Faith in His Helmet astronaut man which is somehow not much better

#god I love this shitshow of a site #I am continuously awed

[kedreeva]

I’ve been on tumblr since 2012 and following you pretty much that entire time and have never reblogged or posted a single thing under my name. Before that I was on LJ for years and never posted anything. I send (nice) asks to people on anon, and leave (nice) comments and kudos on ao3. I used to interact some on LJ when anon kink memes were a thing. I am a part of fandom and have been for close to 20 years, I’m just not comfortable having any kind of public persona online that people can see, even if it has no attachment to my real name.

I know that the influx of new, young fans and the way they treat fandom the same as other online content creation/consumption is a problem. But fandom has always had lurkers. I do my best to positively interact in the ways that I am able to within my comfort zone, and I follow the rules of fandom etiquette. There’s so much pushback against lurkers now that was never there before, and I just don’t understand it.

It's a difficult line to walk, but there's a difference between going to a blog that has zero posts, zero likes, no header, no icon, not even a note that says "just lurking," and a person that's here to look at stuff that displays at least enough humanity to say "hey don't block me I'm just looking."

And look... yes there's always been lurkers. And there probably always will be. And it wasn't an issue for you or for creators or fandom in general, because it didn't hurt anything before. In just my living memory, fandom spent a while just being mailing lists- so creations/discussion went to everyone. There wasn't really anyone else to pass stuff on to, so it didn't matter if you just signed up and never said a word. Webrings based the spread of creation in the site itself, because everything was small back then. Livejournal had public and private communities that were searchable and creation was based inside of those communities, and interaction was based on commenting - what you're used to doing, and okay doing - meaning community was based in the comments and people linking to various communities. Back when places like deviantart and ff.net were pretty staple major sites for everyone, community formed in comment sections there as well.

And as much as I do love social media and the advent of community messaging systems... it's changed the face of fandom in ways that make lurking - and I do mean straight up no interaction, if you're sending messages and commenting, you're participating - break the links of community.

Look at it this way:

Back on LJ etc, it didn't matter if you, personally, lurked. Or even if 100 people lurked. Creations and community were centrally located. People all gathered to the same stable location (a post, or a community feed) to look at the things, and comment etc so if you commented or didn't, they could still find the creations. Sites like that brought people together. Now? *shakes head* Social media sites have divided us, and AI/Bots/Algorithms are conquering us because we disseminated too far.

Where do you go, on twitter, if you want to find fic? How do you find a conversation about something? Where do artists go so you can find groups of them and their galleries? You can scroll a tag, but anyone can put anything in that. I have literally no idea how tiktok works because every time I go on it, things just start scrolling past and playing videos for me that I didn't click. It's kind of horrifying. Instagram is... god, I don't even know how to classify that mess, but it's not a community. it's a museum. don't touch anything.

Tumblr is... it's not livejournal, it's not deviantart, it's not mailing lists or webrings but... it's people touching real people still, or it has the ability to be that if we continue to fight for it. As much as there are shitshows around here on occasion, it's still largely neighbors passing notes over the fences separating us.

But for as much community potential as it has, with the way it can function - with the way it USED to function, the way I REMEMBER it functioning a long time ago - it still separates us. There's tags, like on twitter, but anyone that tag dives (like me) knows what a hot fucking mess the tags can be, and there's no other central collection.

Tumblr's saving grace, though, is the ability we, the users, have to interact like humans. To share what we can with one another. To create networks that still kind of resemble the webrings of old, where you can come to one location (someone's blog) and find gateways to other blogs the way one page/site used to lead to the next so the separate, divided things spread across the world WIDE web don't get lost.

Except the link gets broken here, when folks just have empty blogs. There's (thankfully) no algorithm deciding what we should look at, but the trade off is that we have to be responsible for that step in fandom again. The way we used to be.

Not to mention that... there was never really a point for bots back in the LJ days. It would have been hard for them to survive because everyone knew at least some of the people. Not that there weren't, but it was harder and not rewarding for them to exist en masse. Now? Now bots use social media sites and users. Here, on tumblr, they follow accounts to make it look like they're legit to search engines. Whatever central account they're using to scam people, it collects the bots and the network the bots make, and uses them to look legit, so they can scam people, so they can spread viruses, advertise porn or whatever they're doing. They're exploiting users here, and they do this by following us.

And the ONLY recourse we have? is guessing that they're bots and blocking them. Because reporting a blank blog won't get tumblr addressing the issue. So, when someone lurks in a completely faceless, anon way, a way that makes them look like a bot, then the people who are being followed are going to learn to treat them like the bots that are trying to exploit them to do bad things.

And that's not on you! It's not your fault that they're doing those things, or that people have to react the way they have to react to curb that nonsense. And it's not your fault that social media wants to separate us so it can sell us whatever it wants and keep us from communicating and forming communities where we can entertain ourselves instead of feeding on their ads or whatever. It's not your fault that the way community functions on a human level has been backed into a corner by algorithms/bots.

But that IS the lay of the land these days. You and I have both been here long enough that we've watched the landscape shift. It's not the net we knew. And that's unfortunate. But it's probably not going to go back to the way we knew once upon a time. So people are pushing back against folks being quiet, because the alternative is to let algorithms win and do the talking for us. To let bots use us to hurt others. To let fandom founder because it's being directed by whatever AI is in charge of telling us what to look at.

I'm not going to tell anyone they can't be in fandom if they don't reblog stuff or make stuff or whatever. Just... that fandom is going to have a LOT harder time existing in this new breed of divided space if we don't reach out and connect and help one another connect to others, too.

#fandom #tumblr #asks #anon asks #this got long #listen I don't mind people lurking #and you gotta do what you gotta do for your own well being #but it can't be every person #it can't even be most people #or fandom stops existing in these kinds of spaces #because community isn't based on a central space anymore #it's built on our backs and depends on us linking hands #for people to have roads to get around on

[funkygaypeopleinmyphone]

Nothing gets me into a fiery rage more than thinking about 343 has handled the Halo series after Bungie left it off on such a high note. 1, 2 and 3 were good, ODST and Reach were godlike, and they expanded on the universe quite a few times with books and comics and all that. And then 343 came in and just completely gumbled most of it up. CEA was cool, but basically just kitbashed Reach and upscaled Halo 3 assets together and lost some of the original touch the game had back in 2001.

Halo 4 was, ok? The best part was Cortana's story, going into more depth about rampancy and how it affects AI, especially one that we've known and loved for over a decade at that point. The Forerunners were fucking stupid personally, it's hinted to and LITERALLY SAID IN HALO 3, that humans are forerunners, just after the shitshow that was all the rings firing off. 343 Guilty Spark literally says that Chief is a forerunner, and then they just whipped it around and said "well actually he's a reclaimer because blablabla" ok whatever, they do flesh it out more in expanded works and explain it in Halo 4 so atleast theres that. Del Rio is an asshole to the savior of humanity for no reason. The sudden art style change that makes no sense is stupid, like you could've delayed the change until the Infinity rolled around. The Diadact is just space voldemort turning humanity into NFTs after being on r/nofap for 100,000 years, who then dies pretty unceremoniously to a shit ass grenade in a quick time event.

Halo 5 is.... fucking just Halo 5. The Cortaba story is so bad, why did you bring her back as an antagonist? Why didn't you stick to the marketing that was actually a really cool idea about Chief going rogue and hunting the truth. Where are the Marines? Why do I have to fight the Warden Eternal like 20 times? Better balancing than 4 i guess, but god the plot is just all over the place. And that fight scene with Chief, Chief was abducted as a child and forced into the spartan program and trained to be a cold brutal killer of the UNSC's foes. Without Mjolnir armor he straight up merked 2 ODSTs in hand-to-hand combat. This 7-foot-augmented-out-the-ass man had an equal match in a mass produced Spartan 4? Sure Locke is ONI so he's got some spice to him and he's still a Spartan wearing similar armor to Chief, but come on, you can't tell me a guy who saves humanity for breakfast is on a similar level to Halo Nightfall guy.

Infinite is strange. They basically drop Halo 5's characters for the most part, give Chief new (remastered Mk.6) armor, bring back older models of guns and stuff with a new coat of paint (Reach AR, Battle Rifle, now the DMR) and blow up Cortana and the Infinity within the first like, 30 minutes of the game. Ooooo the Banished except wait after Atriox's not-death they're pretty incompetent and are gettinf roflstomped by Chief and are really only good at killing UNSC off screen. The open world shit was ok, but for Halo i dont think its entirely the best idea to go for whatever Far Cry ass shit they pulled. Bringing back the old designs was really cool and much better than the sterile, clean, sharp edges of 4 and 5. Their armor and weapons looked like brand new toys while Infinite's look more realistic and have a bit more wear and tear to em. But its also missing a ton and just kind of ends off on a weird half note for the story. Like where are they gonna go with this? Idk, its just weird.

343, make more stories without Chief. I know Chief is the figurehead of the franchise, but for god's sake please please please make side stories in the universe. I want to see how humanity recovered after the war, how the different species in the Covenant took the end of the war. Exploring Forerunner sites? Side stories in the human-covenant war with ODSTs and Marines! You could totally make the Harvest campaign into a game! Give us the origin story for Sgt Johnson and how he and others did during the opening months of the conflict! Give us more on the Insurrection! You've done it before, Halo Forward Unto Dawn was actually a really cool movie, why don't you do some more stuff like that??

Idk, I love Halo but 343 gotta step their game up

#halo #343 industries #fucking please make more side content i want more down to earth halo content #im sure the loreheads will suck yall dry if you do

[mermaidxatxheart]

I Got Away With You

A/N: I have a huge small obsession with Garrett Hedlund at the moment. I have a few stories in the works, I started 5 in a week. Someone help me. I don't give permission for my works to be posted anywhere else. I already post on a few other sites, the links are in my bio if you're interested.

Pairing: Benny Miller x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: PTSD, abuse, trauma, triggering, p in v, cockwarming, nothing sexual, this is strictly a comfort fic. Benny is so fucking soft, please help.

Banner is made by me. A massive thank you to @leannawithacapitala @musings-of-a-rose for fueling my thirst for this man.

Triple Frontier Master List

Benny Miller’s girl is tough. You’ve had a complete shitshow for a life: abusive asshole parents and a psychotic brother who’s tried to kill you several times. And it’s made you rough. Some have called you cold. But he knows better. And by god, he’s fucking crazy about you. His girl. He’s got the ring in a lock box, just waiting for the right moment. 

You don’t ask for anything. Ever. Even when you desperately need help. And he’s not just talking about opening the pickle jar, because sometimes he goes to you for that. (You always have the magic touch.) But, you don’t ask to be comforted, held, or cared for. And for that reason alone Benny is so soft for you. 

Some days, you’ll crawl into his lap. No words, just sit there for a while as he reads or watches the game. He never minds. He’ll hold you until the world ends if that’s what you need. Other days, and these are his absolute favorite, you’ll sit on his lap with him inside you. No moving, it’s not sexual, just skin-to-skin contact to remind yourself that he’s real, that you found a good one as you put it. 

It took you forever to be able to explain that to him, to even ask him for it was almost impossible for you. Even now you still mumble your way through asking if you can sit on him. It’s still so difficult for you to not feel like a burden to someone. 

It’s late in the afternoon. You should have been home from work by now, but he’s not especially worried. If you’ve had a rough day, you like to go for a drive to clear your head. You try to hide from him how bad your moods can get some days. He knows, but it doesn’t make him love you any less. You’ve been through hell, you deserve to have bad days and let things get to you. You’re only human, and feeling that way is so completely valid. You never tell him to get over his bad days, and he’ll never do that to you. 

He’s playing Call of Duty with his brother, Will. Will is at his own house, headset on so they can coordinate moves. Sometimes they like to play on opposite teams, sometimes on the same team. 

“Your girl home yet?” Will asks. 

“Not yet. Why? Hoping I’ll get distracted?” Benny replies with a grin. 

“Maybe. Never thought I’d say this, but you’re too focused.” He laughs. 

“There’s a first.” Benny agrees. He hears the front door open and his heart beats irregularly for just a second. “You might get your wish.” 

“About time,” Will says. He absolutely adores you. You’re like the sibling he never had, which he constantly says in front of Benny all the time. 

“Tell me about it.” Benny glances at the bedroom door for just a second before flicking his eyes back to the tv. He’s sitting in his gaming chair so that he doesn’t mess up your neatly made bed. It tends to make you panic when it’s messed up. 

He expects you to come right into the room to change. It’s usually the first thing you do. Take the bra and dress pants off in exchange for sweatpants and one of his shirts. But you don’t appear in the doorway. A flicker of apprehension licks at his nerves. You love your routine. Maybe you brought food home. 

“Baby?” He calls. There’s no answer, no sound of footsteps coming toward him. “Gimme a second, bro. Pause.” He says, pausing the game. He pulls off his headset and pushes himself up, leaving the bedroom to go find you. 

Sometimes, you come home so exhausted and just drape yourself over the arm of the couch. He’ll find you with your ass sticking up, face buried in the cushion, already half asleep. 

Not today, though. You’re not in the living room. Or in the kitchen. 

“Babe?” He calls, doubt appearing. Did he hear you? He goes to the front door and checks the driveway. Your car is here. 

His brain switches from casual inquisitor to search mode. He starts at the front door where he is and searches methodically, opening every door. He’s trained to clear every room for potential threats, but it’s also handy when his girlfriend likes to hide her stress. 

He finds you in the laundry room cabinet, wedged underneath the supplies of trash bags, soaps, and other nonsense you like to store in there. He pulls the door open, his eyes immediately falling to you, knees uncomfortably tight against your chest, arms impossibly between them. 

“When was the last time this helped you?” He asks softly, kneeling down next to you. Your eyes fill with unshed tears and you twist your head away, staring into the back of the dark closet. “Sweetheart.” He reaches for your hand and you close your fist around his fingers. “Wanna talk about what happened?” He asks. 

You shake your head, lips pressed together. 

These are the hardest days for him. The days when you so clearly need something but can’t or won’t ask for it. He will do anything for you, all you have to do is point him in the right direction. But guessing? He’s shit at that. 

“Do you want me to make you some hot chocolate?” He asks, studying you for your reactions. There’s a small moment where your chest stutters, a double breath, and you nod. “We can go cuddle?” He offers, scooting back to give you space to wriggle out. Again you nod. “Okay. Come on, baby.” 

You struggle for a minute before looking at him pathetically. “Help?” 

Christ, he would rip apart this entire laundry room. He carefully pries your legs out, sliding you forward before pulling you to your feet. You won’t look at him, eyes downcast. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and get ready? I’ll be right up.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You leave the laundry room and he heads for the kitchen, making your hot chocolate just the way you like it. It probably won’t get finished. But at least you’ll have it if you want it. 

He carries it to the bedroom to find you laying on the bed, naked, with his headset on, the lube on the nightstand. So, you need that kind of cuddling. 

“Sorry again for interrupting, Will.” You say quietly as Benny sets the mug down. Will, undoubtedly, has zero problems with Benny pausing the game for you. “No, you guys can keep playing. It won’t bother me.” You say, rolling over to look at Benny. 

He pulls off his shirt, laying it on the end of the bed. You might want it later when you get cold. He shucks off his sweats, dropping them in the laundry basket at the bottom of the closet. He pulls off his hat, running a hand through his messy hair. It’s too long, but the feeling of your fingers tangled in it is too good to get rid of. You shake your head, pointing at his hat. He places it back on his head, brim backward so it’s out of your way. He shoos you over, settling in the center of the bed, legs stretched out, fluffing the pillows and stacking them behind his back. He grabs the lube, squeezing a little into his palm and stroking his already half-hard cock. It’s an immediate reaction to seeing you naked that his brain and body will just never get over. 

He glances at you, and Will must have said something because your eyes fill again. “I-I know. Love you, too.” You warble, your voice breaking as you try not to let the tears overcome you. Benny guides you close, spreading the rest of the lube between your legs, wanting to make this as painless for you. It’s already a stretch when he has you good and ready. He uses the back of his index to turn your head, pressing the mute button on the headset. 

“Baby, I’m here whenever you’re ready to tell me, okay? There’s no rush to talk, and we can sit like this as long as you want to.” He says softly and you lower your eyes again. 

“What did I do to deserve you?” You whisper, voice cracking and you bite your lip. 

He wants to joke that it was probably something terrible, and that’s what he would do on a good day. On a day when you can laugh and swat his arm for being dumb. But today, you don’t need jokes. You don’t need your parents’ words that you’re a terrible person, a failure, a mistake, thrown in your face. You need to be reminded how perfect he thinks you are. 

“I’m not sure, but I must have done something pretty damn amazing to deserve you.” He says, guiding your hips up and over his. He holds his cock steady for you, letting you lower yourself at your own pace. His crown pushes past your entrance, tracing along your soft-as-silk walls. He clenches his jaw, reminding himself that this is for you, not pleasure. It’s fairly easy since you’re almost crying, and that kind of flattens the romantic mood. He’s not complaining, though. 

You pause halfway down, taking a breath, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” You whimper and his whole heart breaks for you. His girl, so tough and rough. Today must have been murder for you to have you so upset. 

“You never have to apologize to me. Do you need my thumb? Do you want me to push?” He offers and you nod. He slips his thumb into your curls, slowly rubbing it around your clit as his other hand guides your hips down slowly. “My good girl.” He whispers, kissing your forehead. “My perfect, sweet girl. I love sitting with you like this.” He praises, feeling your walls contract and roll as you sink down to his base. “All in, sweetheart.” He tells you. 

“Will is asking where you are.” You mumble. 

He unmutes it and grabs a tissue, cleaning his hands off. “I’m here, man. Gimme a minute.” He says, taking the headset off your pretty head. 

“Did I make her cry?” He asks. 

“Shouldn’t be a goal.” Benny huffs. You lean forward, your chest pressing against his as you rest your head against his shoulder. You’re tucking into his shape, contouring yourself against him, arms wrapping around his chest. He presses a kiss against your temple, letting his mouth stay there for a minute. The smell of you overwhelms his senses and he closes his eyes. 

You shift your hips slightly, trying to get comfortable. He spreads his thighs to support you, grabbing the controller and encasing you in the safety of his arms. 

“Alright, man. Let’s go.” He says, starting the game again. He turns down the volume so that it won’t bother you when you finally fall asleep and something explodes. 

“I wasn’t trying to make her cry,” Will says after a minute. “I just told her that we all love her. Tom thinks of her as a second daughter, shit, even Santi adores her. She doesn’t have to be alone with whatever is going on.” He finishes quietly. 

“Thanks. I think she needed to hear it.” Benny says, glancing down at you. You’re not asleep, but you’re not listening to him, either. 

“No problem.” Will sighs. “You gonna ask her soon?” 

“I’m thinking about it. I don’t want her to feel pressured. Especially if she’s feeling like this. I can wait until she’s in a better headspace.” He nuzzles into your hair, keeping his eyes on the tv. His avatar is prowling around a building, searching for his brother. 

“She asleep?”

“Not yet.” They’re both quiet for a minute as the game progresses slowly. 

“Benny?” You whisper. Your breath tickles across his neck and chest. 

“Yeah, baby?”

You hesitate, shaking your head after a second. “Never mind. Sorry.”

“You sure?” He rubs your back slowly for a second while there’s a lull in the game. 

“Yeah. It’s okay.” You sniff quietly. You settle back down, not saying anything else. 

The absence of the game sounds is deafening in the room. He starts to hum quietly, not caring that his brother can hear everything. It’s his favorite song since he met you, reminding him of just how lucky he is that you’re here with him, never mind all the bullshit that life has put you through. 

Well, I got caught in Panama City

Tryin' to buy some beer for some Georgia girls

And I got wore out by my daddy

For stealin' cigarettes from the Smokes and more

And all my friends would get away

Seems I'd get caught, plain as day

I took the blame for every little thing

You hiccup and squeeze around him. He takes a steadying breath before continuing. 

But I got away with you

And somehow l still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

And the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you. 

You wrap your arms up around his shoulders, holding onto him tightly. He’s never letting you go. 

Well lookin' like you do

On its damn own, should be a crime

Let alone a fool like me

Hand in hand with you, should be doin' time

But here we are runnin' free

Guess someone turned the other cheek

'Cause there ain't no blue lights in the rear view

Will, to his credit, doesn’t interrupt him. He just lets him sing to his girl. 

Guess I got away with you

And somehow l still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

Now the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you

I'll take it all, the fails, the falls

The county jails and one phone calls

I'd do it all again if I had to

'Cause I got away with you

Somehow girl, I still ain't been found out

It's a crazy truth

Like l strolled out the gates of Alcatraz

And l walked in the Louvre

Now the Mona Lisa's hanging in my house

I bust out of Buckingham with the crown jewels

And l got away with you

When l got away with you

Yeah, I got away with you. 

“Hey, save the game, little brother. We’ll play some other time.” Will says. 

“You sure?”

“Yeah. She needs you.” 

Benny saves the game. “Say goodbye to Will, baby.” He says, brushing your hair down your back. 

“Bye, Will baby.” You mumble and Will chuckles. Benny signs off and pulls off the headset, tossing it over onto his gaming chair. 

“I’m gonna shift a bit, Princess, okay?” He says, only moving once you nod. He pushes himself up, gritting his teeth against the sweet feel of you gripping him. He slides down the bed more so that when he lays back, he’ll be laying down. He adjusts the pillows, trying not to jostle you too much. “Do you still wanna be on top?” He asks and you nod. 

“Just like this.”

“Okay. You alright to lay down?” 

“Yeah.” 

He eases himself down, cradling you against his chest. You completely melt against him, shifting down, taking him deeper inside you, but also so you can rest your head on his chest. 

He closes his eyes, humming softly for you, knowing that his voice helps calm you. His hands stroke up and down your back, tracing lines along your spine, memorizing the shape of you in his arms. 

“Brian.” You mumble and he freezes for a second and then remembers that Brian is the name of a frat boy that you work with. 

“Want me to get rid of him?” He offers. 

“I was fine all day.” You whisper. “All day. It was good. Nothing bad happened, we had good numbers. And then Brian.” You take a breath and he can feel it shudder through you. “He caught his girlfriend sleeping with his brother, his sister, and his dad. And he storm-stormed into the office on his phone. End of the d-day. Just screaming at her. T-told her,” you cut off, twisting your face into his chest. 

He cradles the back of your head, his heart hammering behind his sternum. He can imagine what that kind of rage might make someone say. And Brian looks just enough like your brother to have you avoiding him at all costs. 

“He told her that he was going to find her, make her suffer by t-taking away everything she loves, and th-then no one would ever find her.” Your voice is broken, barely audible and he can feel you shaking. 

“Jesus.” Benny turns into your hair, pressing reassuring kisses everywhere that he can reach. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, tracing it for comfort just as much for him as it is for you. 

“If John ever-“

“He won’t, baby. I can take care of myself, and I’ll always take care of you. Your brother isn’t coming anywhere near us ever again.”

“I can’t lose y-you.” 

He hugs you tight against him, rocking you gently from side to side. “I’m not going anywhere. My whole world is right here.” He promises. He doesn’t give a shit about Brian. Brian’s going through it and deserves his anger. But he might have to have a word about screaming about it in the office. 

“I’m sorry I tried to hide. Please don’t be mad.” You plead. 

Benny shushes you, cupping your face and lifting it so he can see you. “Never.” He kisses your forehead, tucking you back against his chest. “And you don’t need to apologize. It’s been a while since you’ve had such a bad day.”

“I felt like I was exploding. I needed,”

“Containment. I understand, sweet girl.” He brushes your hair back. “Try to sleep, okay? I’m right here. I’m not leaving you. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He promises. 

You nod quietly, reaching up to feel his hair in your fingers. “Whatever I did to deserve you must have been damn amazing.” You mumble, snuggling deeper into the cage of his arms. He smiles against the crown of your hair, thinking it’s just not possible to love you any harder than he does right now.

Everything Tag List

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#mermaidxatxheart-writes #reader insert #mermaidxatxheart #fanfic #romance #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x reader #benny x reader #triple frontier #may be triggering #triple frontier au #triple frontier fic #trigger warning #potentially triggering #benny miller #benny miller x y/n #benny miller x you #benny miller x female reader

[mixterglacia]

Hey, Twitchcon can we chat?

TC...can I  call you TC?

Anyway...WOULD YOU STOP UNDERESTIMATING YOUR CREATOR’S AUDIENCES?

Like, you know how much of a draw certain CC’s are, you literally have the numbers. Not to mention, you just went through this in Amsterdam a few months back.

Yes I am talking about the shitshow that was the DSMP panel, and while some of the issues can absolutely be blamed on the individuals (looking at you shirt person) most of this could have been handled in a very simple way...actually all of it.

One: Much like many anime cons, if someone’s shirt is lewd/nsfw in some way? Disney rules, cover up or change. You make the rules TC, act like it.

Two: Direct all questions through a site like Twitter or something. This way you can moderate more efficiently and not have a bunch of standard young fandom questions (I.E. can i get your autograph/picture/wisdom tooth) clog up the time slot.

Three: For the love of the gods, COUNT YOUR SEATS AND SHUT DOWN THE LINE ONCE IT’S FULL. GET A BETTER QUEUE SYSTEM. It’s almost like you’ve been through this before and should know what to expect? Especially if one of the CC’s just did a big reveal and this is his first official public appearance!

While I can hope they learn from this, I can’t say I expect them to.

#twitch con san deigo #twitch con #dsmp #dream smp

[emily-mooon]

I honestly hope that this hellsite doesn’t kick the bucket anytime soon.

Like for the first time in a long while, I have found my people and space where I can just be me with other people outside of close irl friends and my family. In school I longed to find someone who shared the exact same amount of passion for the things I loved and I found it here. I chose to come here because all other social media sites felt like a god damn shitshow in regards to drama and all other stuff. I don’t feel like tons of eyes are watching me and judging me for things way out of my control.

Also as an intermediate artist I’ve found that Tumblr isn’t as nasty as other sites. Like on tiktok, you’ll have random people giving unwanted criticism and then bully you for your art style and call it “art lore” when it’s not up to their standards. This hellsite had its era of making fun of young artists. Yeah there might still be some hate but I rarely see it. I was so nervous after posting my first piece of fanart to the internet and seeing all the support and love for something I made, made me really happy cause I’ve always been shy about my work and sharing it with other people and seeing love and support means so much to me.

Also I would hate to lose all my moots. You are all so important to me no matter how little we talked. I won’t know where else to find you as this is the only site I’m on. Despite how parasocial our relationships are, you are all my kindred spirits. The same sentiment applies to all my followers. You are all amazing and I parasocially love you and think you’re cool.

If this site does go down like Titanic, I fully intend on going down with it. I’m not getting on that life boat. I will be with the fish, lost to time and only a faint memory to those who know me.

I had hoped that this site would still be here when I hit forty but I guess not. I guess I’ll be 18-19 when I last walk the halls of this god forsaken place that has helped me feel less alone in what I love and cherish. If any staff see this, reconsider please cause I don’t want this ship to sink. I want it to sail the seven seas for eternity.

#I’m going to be honest with you and say that while writing this I got emotional #I don’t talk a whole lot about myself here (only briefly) but this place is special to me #I’ve only been here for like six months but this place has had a positive impact on my life and I’ll be forever grateful for it #also the historian in me doesnt want to see all the posts art fanfiction playlists moodboards and all other creative mediums disappear #I don’t want them to be gone forever #anyways I’m going to go and read some angst fics of my blorbos to help me feel better cause I just made myself sad #emily talks (no seriously she’s talking about things unrelated to her blorbos)

[graveyardhellhounds]

INTRO + DNI/BYI Wow man this needed editing. Hey there!! The name's Kain/Ded! I'm the silly guy running this blog (most the time). I'm your residential ??? and this is my shitshow of a blog! Other members of the brain games will prolly show up and tag the things they reblog as their own names yada yada seriously how many of you are reading this to know about me. BYI and DNI: (All specific DNIs are boldened and italicized for ease of convenience. There prolly will be a tl;dr at the bottom because I ramble.) + We're a system, and we prefer pro-endos and endo systems to not int. with our posts if you're just gonna sit here and berate us for that! If you're willing to not bring it up (because I really don't see us reblogging any syscourse) then you're free to stay. I tend to block most "anti-endos dni" I come across, though. Cultivating our space!!! + I am a pretty open-minded person when it comes to kinks and paraphilias, that being said: Any Main 3 Paras DN-FUNKIN-I. I block Main 3 Paras on site, and I do the exact same to proships/comships. Detrans kinks and ageplay kinks ALSO DNI. I don't like you, begone. You're not welcome here, I don't want you here. Respect my boundaries pleaaase! + I'm agender, we're aroace, i'm also a gay trans man who loves his husband. If you have *any* issues with mspec identities or anyone not aro/ace using SAM, please do not interact! + TERFs/FARTs LEAVE ME ALONE GET AWAY!!!! BOO!!!! SCARING YOU OFF WITH MY LOVE OF QUEER PEOPLE!!!!!!!! + ANYONE WHO USES ANY PERSONALITY DISORDER AS AN INSULT. I'M LOOKING AT YOU "NARC ABUSE" BELIEVERS!!! HONESTLY ANYONE WHO USES ANY MEDICAL DISORDER AS AN INSULT OR IS A FUCKING ABLIST????? SCRAM!!!! SHOO, SHOO!!! Also irl yanderes and yandere fans who aren't willing to recognize that the whole "yandere" trope is literally just fetishized BPD with a 'wonderful' (/sar) flavoring of racism. You can make your chrs BPD, as long as you do it tastefully and with understanding that BPD, like all the other Cluster B PDs, is a traumagenic disorder. + RACISTS???? BIGOTS IN GENERAL OH MY GOD STAY AWAY GO GET!!! GET!!!! SCRAM!!!!! + We're a firm believer in the block button if we don't vibe with you or your blog! Don't take it personally, or do I guess. I can't stop ya. TL;DR DNI if you're: Queerphobic, anti-mspec and/or anti alloallos using SAM, racists, ableists, bigots, main 3 paraphiles, ageplay and or detrans kink focused blog(s), proships/comships, TERFs/FARTs, and pro-endos who are going to harass me over my personal beliefs (those being believing in the medical system.)

#intro post #dni #byi #blog info #pinned post #blog intro #long post wowwie

[elkian]

Hey folks, with the recent-ish advent of malware etc. on spam blogs it is more important than ever to label your blog.

Why?

Say I have two new followers. Both have similar naming schemes - perhaps a human-ish first name and human-ish last name stuck together, possibly with some numbers on the end. Maybe it’s a couple of real words stuck together in a baffling way.

The icons, too, are alike - either the default tumblr icon, or what appears to be a photo of a conventionally attractive white woman. With me so far?

I click through to both blogs, to see if they are real people, because all of these features so far indicate spam blogs.

One of the blogs is a real person! Hooray!

The second blog is a spam bot that inflicts malware on my computer the second I try to see what they are.

Knowing that clicking through a blog now puts my PC at risk, I no longer bother with that part. It’s not safe, and it takes time. So what do I do?

I automatically report any blog that appears to be a spam blog.

This is not good news for the Real Human Persons who happen to have a blog! Tumblr is a shitshow, and most reported blogs get checked via automatic system; they may never involve a single human combing through them.

This means if your blog title quacks like a malware blog, and your icon looks like a malware blog, and I (and 50 other people) report you on the assumption that you’re a malware blog, your blog is getting sent straight to the fucking Shadow Realm. And Tumblr’s concept of appeals is.... dubious.

Look, I don’t want to report a regular person who’s just trying to have a blog on the funny social media site, and you don’t want to get banned for doing literally nothing. We’re in agreement on this! The fastest ways to prevent this are:

Pick a blog name that is NOT marysmith157-14

Pick an icon!!!! Please!!!! just put an anime girl in your pfp I swear it’s okay!!!!

Title your blog to indicate that you are a real human

Ideally, you’re doing all of these in some way, though I respect that your username on every site is ALREADY maryshelly1991 or whatever, but if you do so then please, for the love of God, do one or both of the other two.

This has been: a guide on not getting reported 50 times for doing literally nothing but following people.

#elk text #15th #April #2023 #April 15th 2023

[salt-volk]

honestly reading up on anji's past with ayways makes the shitshow that is DV make so much more sense. customs aren't going to change because anji's made exactly the type of site she wants. she does not care about the economy or fake petsite class divide whatsoever; she got popular from ayway's shitty breeding system and wanted to recreate the same thing. giving suggestions on how to make the system more equitable and fun for a wider variety of players will do nothing because she LIKES things this way. which like, it's her site, so power to her i guess, but if you don't like it then please for the love of god stop giving DV money. they are not going to take your suggestions, they are not going to change. they don't care!

.

#anonymous #mod yoshi #customs #staff

[nagasakidivision]

Up From the Ashes

I need to stretch out my short story writing muscles a bit since basically all I've done lately (as in.....the past three months, for the love of God please help me,) is academic and technical writing. I need to get used to writing these guys in prose so I'm going to fling out a quick story into the void. o^o This does take place after the first drama track, as it's during the preliminaries but it doesn't really spoil anything involved there beyond what's been heavily implied in the preview! This primarily focuses on and is from the view point of Haruto since he's the one I'm least accustomed to writing so I need practice but all of Thirteen shows up!

Well, Haruto thought, staring up at the tarp that accounted for a roof, that was a shitshow. The nicest thing he could say about their last battle was that technically he'd been the last person standing. Even if he had to be physically carried to the medical tent (Chuouku would not deign to give a small district like Nagasaki a proper medical bay for the tournament) by the on-site EMTs and blacked out somewhere along the way, he had survived.

There was a soft rattle as a bottle of pills hit the bed. He snapped his head towards the sound. Shirou, in practice the last to fall, was already back on his feet and seemingly doing just fine. It didn't necessarily surprise Haruto, at this point he was reasonably sure the coroner had talked to Death itself so much at his job that the two of them had a deal, and now he couldn't die.

Maybe Death had taken away his ability to make sound when he moved and that was how he was so damned quiet all the time. He'd lost count of how many times the coroner had accidentally snuck up on him and scared him out of his mind. He was as silent as the grave, you could say. If Haruto were in the mood he'd have let himself laugh at his own joke.

"Here." Shirou sat down on a folding chair beside the bed. "Painkillers. I'd imagine you're not feeling particularly well right now."

"How'd you guess?" It came out more snappish than he'd wanted, and he immediately regretted it. He took a breath, trying to force some of the tension out of his body. "Yeah. It doesn't hurt, though. Feels like a bad hangover."

"It will hurt soon." The coroner pushed the bottle towards him, then put a can of soda next to it. "Your nervous system's still in shock. Honestly, I'm surprised you can talk right now after that fight."

Haruto stared at the colorful label. "I don't drink soda. Too sweet for me."

"I thought you would prefer it to the coffee I make." His tone was as distantly polite as always, but a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Drink it. Caffeine will make the medication hit your system faster. You can thank me later."

The philosopher grumbled, but popped the tab, dropped a tablet of the painkiller in his mouth, and slammed down the sugar-drenched monstrosity fast enough that he hopefully wouldn't taste it. In spite of his best efforts, the cloying flavor stuck to his mouth, intermingling with the sourness of the medication. He winced as he set the can back down. "God, that's vile."

Shirou sighed and shook his head. "Well, next time I'll make sure to bring some of that tea you'll actually drink with me."

"Appreciated," Haruto said flatly. "Remember, don't heat the water to a full boil, stop just short of it or you burn the tea. Oh, and the steep time is just four minutes. Don't go over."

Honestly, he thought, at this point he deserved it, and the second he got home he was breaking out the most expensive loose-leaf canister he had, and then the really expensive floral gin he'd been hoarding. Anything to keep himself from thinking about his performance in the local preliminaries.

It had started out well, at least when they were in the first few rounds and dealing with brand new teams in a minor district with only their mics and delusions of grandeur. Practice had paid off, and Shirou's experience was carrying them where Damien and Haruto's enthusiasm would have fallen short, and it felt for a moment like they could coast to a victory. They certainly seemed like the natural winners, and they started playing into it.

It was Damien's idea, he told himself, to try and lean into it. 'Work the audience a little,' he said. 'You'll do better if you have the crowd backing you.' Well, it did for the next few rounds. But now all his mind would fixate on was the bragging, the preening, the eyes of the crowd on him. It had come so naturally to him, too, if you wanted to get anywhere in his field, faking it until you make it was a skill you had to develop. Performing for an audience and performing for a group of more established scholars had little difference. But what had been fun in the moment when they were still winning had quickly soured.

(Ah, and he'd been overdressed for everything too. He'd stood out so much, and that whole façade of perfection had collapsed when he had. The idea of having to walk around the streets of Nagasaki after everyone had seen that shameful display made his skin crawl.)

The flap of the tent rustled. A small figure stood in the frame, then walked forward with a slightly wobbly gait. Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Haruto thought. Or the "dog-saint" as the man himself would have put it. His little shadow, the dog Lucia, was at his side as always.

"Yo." Damien's voice lacked any of its usual enthusiasm. "Any news yet?"

"Nothing," Shirou said. "Sounds like they're still deliberating."

The weight of the situation crashed into Haruto all too late. He might have just cost the team their shot at getting into the capital. He knew it was a long shot, but he'd honestly thought it could happen. It had seemed even more possible early into the day that they would be walking right into the Central Ward with their heads held high, all of the higher-ups in the Party of Words confident they'd be playing their toy soldiers against each other before the soldiers fought back. Instead, their story was likely going to die here.

The tent fell quiet. Damien, who had never met a moment of silence he liked and was certainly not going get acquainted with it now, started talking again. "I mean, they have to rule in our favor, right? It was a rap ability that brought Haruto back. Probably. Not our fault we didn't know about it before now."

"Well, there's not really a precedent for one like this. We'll find out. It's out of our hands now." Shirou folded his arms and rested against a tent-pole. After too long of a pause, he added, "We did our best."

They didn't, really, or at least Haruto felt like he didn't. It was such an ugly victory, but it made his choice of a name eerily prophetic. Still, he didn't feel like he'd earned such a lofty title now. Phoenixes were beautiful and graceful. He'd spent too much time staring at hagiography for some of his other classes—you didn't specialize in philosophers like Kierkegaard or Weil or Tillich without trying to understand the manic fervor that burned in them for some divine power beyond human comprehension, inconvertibly scorched into their thoughts and actions, without at the very least trying to dip your toes into theology and religious studies—and so he knew just how powerful an image they were. Wings spread, arising again from their funeral pyre with their beak open in what would no doubt be a noble cry of defiance against death.

His experience of resurrection had been his brain sparking abruptly back to life after tumbling into the dark, whiting out with the sudden influx of sensory input, clawing his way out of the peaceful void of unconsciousness, gasping for air and struggling to stand with limbs still trying to remember how movement worked after everything in his body had simply shut down. The first thing that struck him was the absolute shocked silence of the crowd who he was reasonably sure had been cheering when he'd collapsed. That was the single moment of clarity. Everything from there on was an adrenaline-fueled blur before he was out cold again.

He had been down for the mandatory ten-count and technically Shirou had fallen before he managed to stand, and now the Party of Words referees had no idea what they were supposed to do.

He heard soft padding coming close to him, and then a scrabbling noise as Lucia managed to hoist her way onto his cot. She stared at him a few moments with too-keen eyes that had always felt a bit too intelligent. Then, she sat herself down, and shoved her nose under his hand. He sighed in defeat and began scratching behind her ears.

God, he was exhausted. Maybe the painkillers Shirou had given him were hitting harder than he thought, maybe Lucia had finally gotten him to relax just slightly, or maybe there had just been way too much going on, but he wanted to fall asleep.

He'd closed his eyes and managed to drift into an uncomfortable half-sleep when he heard someone clearing their throat. It took him a moment to process what was off. The voice was feminine. He snapped back awake. One of the referees was standing in the doorframe.

"We've settled on a decision," she said. And then, proving that everyone within the Party was terrible, she left the words hanging.

Haruto felt a twinge of irritation at the obvious manipulation, but obligingly sat up and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Congratulations," she said with a smile. "You'll be representing Nagasaki Prefecture in the regional portion of the Division Rap Battle."

Damien let out an indistinct shout of excitement and pumped his fist before finally finding his words. "Hell yeah!" Then, turning his head to the other two, "See? I told you! You got all worried for nothing."

Shirou gave him as much of a pointed look as his usual serene bearing could betray, a silent statement of were you any less worried? then turned to the Party of Words official. "Thank you. We'll do our best to make Nagasaki proud."

"I'm sure you will." Her eyes shifted, then lingered on Haruto several moments too long. "We'll be watching you with interest." She turned on her heel and left the tent.

The philosopher shifted, an uneasiness he couldn't place settling in the pit of his stomach.

Damien gave voice to Haruto's emotions before he could even place them himself. "Why did that sound like a threat?"

"Let's not jump to the worst possible conclusion," Shirou said. The obvious implication of but let's anticipate it was left hanging in the air, casting a chill over the warmth of their victory.

#hypmic oc #hypnosis mic oc #hypnosis mic #haruto hirabayashi #nagasaki division #hypmic #shirou sonozaki #damien #fan division

[weazelsfeazels]

About the organization that caused the AO3 outage a few days ago. (IMPORTANT)

Please, for the love of god read this goddamned post because let's just say.. They could be coming for our asses as well and I don't mean that in a good way. (BE GONE TUMBLR LIVESTREAMERS)

Okay, now that I have an actual PC on my hands writing will be MUCH easier and productive so I might as well talk about the AO3 outage caused by a DDOS attack(s) while listening to the Gamebro theme like a maniac.

I feel like an explanation of what AO3 is important so.. it's a popular fanfiction platform that many use. Let's just say that there are definitely some smutty, kinky fanfic out there but fanfiction in general is just a plot, twist, or just story in general involving characters owned by someone else, there are also self inserts, alternate forms, and OC's that can be put in fanfiction. The possibilities are endless.

Now about the actual attack itself.. It forced the website offline for over a day, that's all I really have to say but the interesting part of this is THE GROUP behind the attack and the act that will support their tyranny. THE BIG BAD GROUP Anonymous Sudan, they have supposedly done DDOS attacks on microsoft before and are also supposedly religiously and politically charged in said attacks. I also believe that they're getting desperate in some shape or form because another Tumblr user uploaded a pretty popular post stating that they COULD be doing or planning a DNS attack to get personal information.

Might I add that they've targeted plenty of other sites as well so if they do end up targeting and performing a DNS attack here that means all of our damn personal info will probably be leaked.

ALSO I feel like it's important to theorize with the readily available information we have, I think they definitely might be playing a "think about the kids" thing, because I'm pretty sure they're involved with KOSA (Kids Online Safety Act that is basically just mass censorship and homophobia, I'll have to make a separate post for that shitshow) in some shape or form or will use the act whenever it drops as defence for their actions.

And everyone that sees this, I wish you a good day, make sure to drink water and get rest because you never know whenever a situation like this happens. - just a random kid on the internet

#psa #important #ao3 ddos #ddos attack #anonymous sudan #security #hacker

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Honest and Truly

Summary: Spencer has his prom 10 years late, but none of that matters when it's with the girl of his dreams.

Word Count: 4.8 k

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female (She/Her)-- Fluff

CW: Minimal vulgar language (PG-13)

Author's Note: This just might be my most favorite thing I've written in a very long time :) Also listen to the song I linked, it makes the title and the ending make more sense! thank you to @spookydrreid and @writhingintheroses for helping me a particular scene!!

Add yourself to my taglist! It makes it much easier for me :)

Honest and Truly

“A prom?” Spencer asks, realizing that the conversation had entered uncharted territory, a territory in which he had not a single clue how to navigate. Spencer, being a preteen in high school, never attended prom.

“Yes, Reid. A prom,” Penelope says, staring at him over the many monitors and stuffed cats that littered her desk, “It’s going to be so much fun!” she says, excitedly.

“That sounds like, uh, I’ll have plans that night,” Spencer tells Penelope, spinning around in the swivel chair as he eats his turkey and cheese sandwich. He usually enjoys their lunches together, but when Penelope gets an idea in her head, there’s no stopping her.

@s“Now I don’t believe that for a second, Reid. The only time that you have plans is when you’re with Y/N. And Y/N is going to be at this prom,” Garcia says, her pink glasses sliding down her nose. She winks at Reid, almost like she enjoys watching him squirm.

“How do you know that she’s going? Did she say she’s going?” Spencer asks, unable to conceal his eagerness that Y/N could be attending. Spencer might hate dancing and those fancy shoes that are too tight on his toes, but all that can be talked away if Y/N is there.

“Yes, she’s going because you’re asking her. That and I’m making everyone go,” Penelope says matter of factly.

Spencer opens his mouth, attempting to talk away Penelope’s suggestion. But Spencer Reid is a smart man and he knows better than trying to argue his way out with Penelope. Especially when it comes to Y/N. He might have an excellent poker face, but Spencer can’t hide his love for Y/N.

“I’m not going to ask her. You know she’ll think it’s because-” Spencer says, prepping for a long winded rant before the door of Penelope’s office swings open.

Y/N, with two coffees in hand, floats into the room like she’s walking on air. Or maybe it’s Spencer’s mind that’s floating when Y/N walks in. He can never tell. Whenever he’s near her, it’s like everything is sweeter, lighter and airier. Wordlessly, she passes the coffee to Spencer. Feeling her fingertips graze his reminds him of how pathetic he must be. He nods, telling her thanks, knowing that he’s unable to fully articulate just how grateful he is for the littlest things.

“Who are you not going to ask and to where, Spence?” Y/N says, leaning against the filing cabinets and sipping her coffee. Penelope, never one to be quiet, silently watches as Spencer and Y/N converse. Spencer looks up at her, feeling that light and airy feeling again. He brushes his hair that falls against his forehead nervously thinking of an answer.

“I- uh, I was thinking of asking my mother to come stay with me for a couple of weeks. You know, she hasn’t seen DC in a couple of years. And I do have some personal days banked,” Spencer says, telling Y/N a small white lie.

“She’s in Vegas, right?” Y/N asks, interested in what Spencer is saying, which is something that he’s still not used to. Spencer nods, smiling awkwardly.

“Yeah, she says that she likes the heat,” Spencer says, hating how formal and cold the conversation sounds. It’s normally flowing with easy and familiarity, but something is wedged between them. Penelope, long forgotten by the pair, types rapidly on her keyboard.

“You know, Spence. If you’re up for it maybe we can have lunch or meet at Elmwood Park. I’d love to meet the woman that made my favorite person,” she says, staring directly into Spencer’s eyes. Her stare is so intense that it’s like she’s looking into his soul. He thinks that if she looks deep enough she’ll see her own reflection because his soul belongs to her.

“I-I uh,” Spencer says, immediately thinking that he should actually invite his mother out for a visit, “I think that’s a good idea. She likes the sites and all,” he tells her nervously, trying to ease his beating heart.

He’s her favorite person.

Out of all the people in this city, this world. He’s her favorite person. Spencer, a lover of math, is tempted to figure out the odds of being his favorite person’s favorite person. He knows it’s slim. He knows it’s rare. It’s something magical and Spencer is terrified he’s going to ruin it. He’s terrified he’s going to fuck something up that’s not even his.

“It’s a date,” Y/N says, turning to Penelope, who’s still long forgotten, “Oh, Penny, you need to yell at Morgan for me. He ate my leftovers,” she tells Penelope, who feigns horror, “And now I don’t have lunch”

“How dare he!” Penelope says, her exaggerated response inciting chuckles, “he can get away with murder because he’s pretty,” she says, shaking her head.

He knows that she’s pretending to be disappointed, but he still doesn’t like to see it. Spencer unwraps the other half of his turkey and cheese sandwich and hands it to Y/N. She looks surprised, as if Spencer just handed her a million bucks.

“Spence, you don’t have to,” Y/N says, softly, handing back the half of the sandwich, “It’s your sandwich, I don’t want you to feel-”

“Eat it, Y/N,” Spencer says firmly, looking straight at Y/N, “You need to eat something. We both live off coffee as it is,” he says, hoping that Y/N will take the sandwich.

He’s looking straight at her and she’s looking straight at him. Spencer wonders if he looks deep enough he’ll reach her soul. He dares to think that if he can find her soul, he’ll stare at his face. He’s her favorite person after all, that’s got to count for something.

“Thanks, Spence,” Y/N says, smiling softly, “You make the best sandwiches,” she tells him, taking a bite of the sandwich as Garcia’s eyes flit from Spencer to Y/N. Back and forth, she watches the pair engage in the world’s best miscommunication.

“Y/N, did you hear? I’m throwing a prom!” Garcia says excitedly, hoping that Y/N’s reaction will be more enthusiastic than Spencer’s.

“A prom?” Y/N asks, unconvincingly, “God, I hated my prom. I got punched spilled all over my dress and my date tried to sneak alcohol into the banquet hall. It was a shitshow,” Y/N says, remembering the less than happy memories from high school.

“I didn’t go to prom. You know, between being a 12 year old and a dork,” Spencer says, self deprecatingly, “It’s not the ideal scenario, but I am familiar with the cultural significance of proms in American high school,” Spencer says, speaking to no one in particular, yet looking at Y/N directly.

“Maybe we’ll both get the prom night we deserve, Spence,” Y/N offers, tossing out her wax paper wrapper. She walks past him and it’s like the air is sweeter. He believes in science, but loves magic. Y/N is magic.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, refusing to make eye contact with Penelope, “you know, sorry to uh, cut this short. I have some paperwork to finish. Hotch’s been on me all day about it. So, uh, see you later,” he says, walking out of Penelope's office like a bat out of hell.

He tries to ignore the knowing stares from Penelope and Y/N’s confusion as he ducks out and walks into the bullpen. Spencer doesn’t have paperwork. He finished all his paperwork by 11:12 am. But what Spencer does have is a flight from Vegas to Quantico to book.

And prom shopping.

___

As it turns out, Spencer doesn’t know much about teenage American culture. Sure he’s seen 90s movies that Y/N forced him to watch. But it was quite difficult to pay attention when all he could feel was Y/N’s fingers brushing up against his in their shared bucket of popcorn or her head laying against his shoulder when she got tired.

He doesn’t know much of anything when it comes to romance. But he knows that he loves Y/N— and hopefully that’s enough. He still hasn’t asked her if she’d go with him. Honestly, he’s not too sure why he even has to ask her in the first place. She’s going to be there already, but Garcia and Morgan convinced him that it’s part of the so-called “Prom Experience”

“Spence,” Y/N says, she’s perched on the tall bar stool and rests her elbows on her kitchen island, “did you find a suit yet? I was thinking that we can go to that vintage store on Rock Ave. They have a surprisingly good size selection, and I think that this whole vintage thing fits your aesthetic really well,”

“My aesthetic?” Spencer questions, again lost at sea.

“You know, you’re like nerdy chic. Equal parts dorky and equal parts handsome,” she tells him. He feels his cheeks burn at her words.

Handsome

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” Spencer says, eyeing Y/N over the rim of his hot coffee.

“It is,” Y/N says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like him being handsome is just as obvious as him being dorky, “And get your wallet. We’re going to the vintage store,”

Spencer has a hate-love relationship with weekends. He loves spending time with Y/N where it was so easy to pretend that she loves him as he loves her. He hates the weekends for the same reason he loves them. Spencer knows that it’s all fake. It’s a façade of the truth.

“Spence! You’d look great in this,” Y/N suggests, holding up a gray sports coat, “I think it will match your eyes perfectly,”

“If you think so, Y/N,” Spencer says, nodding his head in agreement. She continues eyeing him as if she’s imagining what he’d look like in the jacket. He has to admit, it’s a very nice jacket.

“Come on, Spence. There’s a mirror over in the corner. Try it on for me,” she requests and not even a second later Spencer finds himself being dragged by the hand to try on the suit jacket.

Y/N holds the jacket open for him as he slips it on through his arms. He’s surprised to realize that it fits perfectly. He looks into the mirror, staring at his face and Y/N, who tugs and smooths the jacket. Spencer can’t look too much longer because if he does the lines between reality and fantasy will be difficult to distinguish. As much as he wants to stare into the mirror all day long, pretending that this is real, he much rather it actually be real. But wishing and dreaming only ends up with battle wounds and broken hearts.

“You look very handsome, Spencer. Very handsome,” Y/N says, staring into the mirror too now. But she’s not looking at the jacket, she’s looking at him. The beat of silence lasts longer than what’s comfortable, “Um, I think, I saw some pants that would look good on you, with this jacket, I mean,” she says, stumbling over her words. She’s not looking in the mirror any more, her gaze is noticeably away from Spencer and the mirror.

“Okay, uh, whatever you think, Y/N,” Spencer says, “I’m not even sure why I agreed to this thing. I don’t dance,” he says, regretting his choice to go to Penelope’s prom, but feeling guilty for maybe disappointing Y/N all in one breath.

“Did you ask her yet?” Y/N asks, holding up a pair of similarly gray colored pants. She must notice his confusion, “You know Austin, the woman you heroically saved. Does any of it ring a bell, Spence?” Y/N teases. Spencer feels his cheeks burn and his heart tighten, that happens a lot around Y/N.

“Oh Austin, uh no. She wasn’t interested in me, after all,” Spencer says, shifting his weight and staring at his converse, “I mean, I should have seen it coming. It’s transference, that’s like Psych 101,” he says, feeling strange. It was odd when Austin broke up with him, even if you can consider it breaking up. He felt a strange sense of relief when it happened, like a weight was lifted off his shoulders.

Y/N clicks her tongue in annoyance as she walks over to Spencer. Tugging slightly on the sleeves of the jacket she says, “well she’s not as smart as I thought she was. You have to be a complete fool to let someone like you go,” she says quietly. She’s standing too close, looking too beautiful, and seeming too perfect for Spencer to not be completely enamoured.

Then it breaks, like shattered glass. The rosey glasses are lifted, leaving only cheeks that sting with nervousness and hearts the yearn for something a little more tangible.

“Stop staring at me and go try it on,” Y/N says, handing him the pair of pants, “Oh and I’m going to look for a vest and a tie to match. This store is unbelievable,” she tells him, pushing him into the makeshift dressing room.

Spencer puts on the pants, which fit, despite being maybe an inch or two loose in the waist. He looks into the tall mirror, which is noticeably empty without Y/N standing with him. A floating hand, belonging to Y/N appears. She holds a burgundy tie and a dark brown vest, both of which are very Spencer. He smiles slightly, strangely happy that Y/N has picked something out that’s perfect for him.

“Tell me when you’re decent,” she says, her voice muffled by the curtain that separates them. He sticks his head out of the curtain, his eyes immediately finding Y/N’s.

“Ohh, Spence, you look amazing. Very handsome,” she says, her hands clasped around the tie, tugging just like she did with his suit jacket before, “What do you think?” she asks, looking at him curiously.

“It’s nice,” Spencer offers, approaching this like he does everything: cautiously, “I do like the texture,” he says, running his hands up and down the sleeves of the jacket.

“You look more than nice, Spence. I know I’ve said it like 30 times, but you look very handsome,” she says. Spencer hopes that she means it. He needs something to be real. Sometimes besides what he feels, because what he feels is the realest thing in the world.

“It’s nice to hear,” Spencer says, “you know from someone who’s not my mother,” he jokes, shrugging off the jacket and grabbing the hanger from Y/N.

“You deserve to hear it,” Y/N says so softly Spencer wonders if she’s saying it all. That beat of silence, followed by the awkwardness is back.

“So, uh, I saw a dress that I’m going to try on,” Y/N tells him, her gaze shifting everywhere but Spencer’s eyes.

“I’ll go pay for this,” Spencer says, walking back into the dressing room and the mirror that lies to his face.

___

Back in Y/N’s car, Spencer shifts in the passenger seat trying to find a way to sit comfortably while holding his suit jacket, pants and vest. Y/N hangs up her dress, that’s wrapped in a gown bag. She wouldn’t let Spencer see the dress, despite her practically picking out his entire outfit.

“So what’s next,” Spencer asks, as Y/N gets into the car. She smiles over at him sheepishly, leading Spencer to think she’s got another trick up her sleeve.

“I’ve got a confession, Spence. And please don’t hate me for it,” Y/N says, her voice coming out a little nervous as she eyes Spencer.

“I don’t think I could ever hate you, even if I tried. And I’m certain I’ll never have to,” he says softly, resting his hand over hers on the console. He rubs the back of her hand gently, thinking about just how easy things are with her. If he could only be a little braver, maybe then the mirror wouldn’t be so empty.

“Okay. I knew that things didn’t work out with you and Austin. I overheard you telling Derek,” Y/N confesses, “And I know that it makes me a horrible friend or whatever, but I’m sorry that I eavesdropped,”

“Oh, uh how much did you hear?” Spencer asks, suddenly quite nervous. He can feel his heart drop, waiting for the moment when Y/N laughs at the thought of her loving him. He knows that it’s not fair to her, but then again all is fair is love and war.

“Enough to know that you’re still hung up or or someone else. I left once my conscience got the better of me. Once a Girl Scout, always a Girl Scout,” she says, making the three finger salute that’s common in scouting, “I just wanted to hear it from you, you know you’re my favorite person and all,” she says, a frown forming.

“I think, uh,” Spencer says, “That I was just a little embarrassed. You know how Derek and Penelope and Emily and JJ can get. It’s basically just you and Hotch who aren’t jumping down my throat about being, you know, alone,” he says, chuckling awkwardly.

“They just want to help you, Spence. In their own ways, but I’m always on Team Spencer. You never got to worry about that,” Y/N offers, squeezing his hand.

He considers what she says, not responding verbally, but nodding his head. He hasn’t ever had someone on his “team”, so it’s strange. But a good kind of strange.

“Spence, you okay? I wanted to give you something. To be truthful, I’ve been thinking about how I was going to do this for awhile,”

“Ask me what?” he questions, wondering what she has in store. He watches as Y/N rummages in his bag, clearly looking for something. He’s thoroughly confused when she pulls out a TI-84.

“What on earth?” Spencer says, as she places the calculator in his hands. Her sly grin, beaming up at him only further proves his point: his heart just beats faster around her.

“Just shut and press the on button. You’d think that a genius would know how to work a calculator,” she comments, rolling her eyes playfully.

“You know, I never used these. I can just do it in my head faster,” Spencer says, winking at Y/N when she pushes him teasingly.

“God, Spencer just turn it on!” she demands, very apparently getting more and more impatient.

He turns the calculator on and is brought to a green screen that has a picture of a graph. Spencer raises his eyebrow, as if to ask Y/N for the next direction.

“Press the graph button,” she says, getting quieter as Spencer looks at her.

He presses the button that she said to, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen. Spencer watches as the screen draws four black lines running parallel to each other. A curved line is drawn on the first two black lines, forming the letters “P” and “R”. The screen continues to draw, making an oval that looks like an “O” and the last two parallel lines are joined together with a “v” shape, forming the letter “M”. He takes a second glance, reading the 4 letter word slowly.

P-R-O-M

“Well?” she asks, waiting for his answer.

He’s speechless. Spencer blinks. It’s like his brain has stopped working. It’s a prom, a stupid prom that’s 10 years too late. But it’s the girl of dreams that’s asking him. And that’s the stuff those rom-coms he couldn’t pay attention to are made of.

“I mean, of course. Of course, Y/N,” Spencer says, dropping the calculator into the cup holder and leaning in to hug Y/N.

His heart stops again. Falling into that tricky habit of either speeding up or stopping when she’s around. He thinks he’s ready to implode when she pecks his cheek. Her lips don’t linger, hardly touching his skin for it to be considered a kiss.

“I don’t think I’d want to go with anyone else,” she says, mumbling into his skin. She seals his fate with her lips against his skin. Never again will Spencer imagine what it’s like to have her lips against his skin. Even though it’s a fraction of the time he’d want, it’s tattooed in his mind.

“I’m not much of a dancer, by the way,” Spencer says, reluctantly letting go and sitting back into the passenger’s seat, “so don’t expect too much,” he jokes.

“Oh you better watch it, Doctor Reid. I’m getting you on the dance floor, even if you hate it,” Y/N says, smiling as she backs out of the parking spot and turns into the street.

Spencer looks out the window, thinking to himself that there’s probably nothing he can hate if he’s doing it with Y/N.

--

Spencer didn’t go to prom in high school. He didn’t do a lot of the traditional things that most former high schoolers reminisce about at his age. He didn’t go to football games or have a best friend to make lifelong memories with.

He didn’t have any of that, until now.

But it’s prom night, 10 years late. His hands are sweaty and his mouth feels dry. Spencer wasn’t this nervous for even his first day at the BAU all those years ago. He tries to fix the burgundy tie that Y/N picked out at the vintage store. It looks crooked and twisted. Nothing like when Y/N tied perfectly in the store for him. He supposes that he can wait till she comes to pick him up.

The mirror, again, is noticeably empty without Y/N standing beside him. He can get lost in there, thinking about her standing with him. He does, because it feels like seconds later when he hears a rapid knocking on his apartment door.

Standing on the other side of the door is Y/N. She wears a sage green dress that looks like it’s made of softest silk. He smiles at her, not sure if he can trust his words. Spencer doesn’t think he’ll be able to do much thinking when all he can focus on is the tiny straps that rest on her shoulders or how the sage green compliments her skin tone.

“You look, god. You’re beautiful,” Spencer says, partly under his breath partly aloud to Y/N, “so beautiful,” he says again, focusing on her eyes.

“And you’re looking very dashing in that suit, Spence,” she says, pushing her way in, “do you need help with your tie?” she asks, looking at the tie he holds in his hand.

“Yes, please,” he says sheepishly. He holds out the burgundy colored tie, but takes his hand back as an idea crosses his mind, “oh wait here, I’ll be right back,” Spencer says, walking quickly to his bedroom.

“Alright,” Y/N says sceptically, “Don’t ditch me, Reid!” she calls out from the living room.

Spencer returns, hiding the new tie behind his back. He places an olive green tie with dusty blue and pink flowers in her hands. He notices her smile grow, realizing that he’s picking a new tie for a reason.

“I might not know much about prom, but I think that we’re supposed to match. You know, since we’re going together,” he offers, “but I need help putting it on,” he says.

“We’re going to match!” Y/N says excitedly. As she unbuttons the first button on Spencer’s cream colored shirt he holds his breath. He can’t breathe when she’s this close. Her fingers are quick and nimble as they feed the tie around his neck and elegantly create a knot. If Spencer wasn’t already in love, he knows that watching her eyes twinkle and her tongue poke out as she concentrates would make him declare it then and there.

“So handsome,” she says, using that quiet voice that makes it seem like she’s talking to herself rather than him, “I can’t wait to dance with you,” she tells him tugging the tie.

“I’m not going to be good, Y/N. I’m going to be a fool,” Spencer says, lamenting already about what an idiot he’s going to look like in front of Y/N.

“That’s nonsense, Spence,” Y/N says, waving him away with a toss of her hand, “You’re going to be the best dancer there,” she tells him rubbing her hand up and down his arm, like she did at the store.

“Would you believe it, if I told you I never danced with anyone?” Spencer says, being the most honest and true he’s ever been.

“We can change that,” Y/N says, stepping towards Spencer and linking her hand in his. She squeezes, restarting and stopping his heart all in one go, “oh wait we need music,” she says, feeling around for where her phone usually is.

“I got it,” Spencer says, stepping away from Y/N. He walks over to the small record player in the corner of his living room. He doesn’t play it too often, the records he has were once his mother’s and they’re too painful to play most days. But Spencer’s sure that he can make every exception to all his rules for Y/N. Maybe he’ll get some happy memories out of it.

“Going old school I see,” Y/N says, teasingly as Spencer walks over grabbing both his hands in hers, “everything about you is very charming, Doctor Reid,” she says, softly swaying to the jazzy tunes of Sarah Vaughan.

“I’m not too sure about that,” Spencer says, following Y/N’s lead as she floats around his living room, carrying him everywhere she goes. She rests her head against his chest and Spencer swears that she’s going to get a concussion from how hard his heart beats.

They’re alone, no audience to witness the moment that Spencer wonders if he can dare to call intimate. It’s intimate to him because every moment with Y/N is intimate. Maybe if someone had told Spencer that dancing like this could bring pure paradise all the way from your fingertips to your eyelashes, maybe he would have done it sooner.

“You’re quite the romantic, Spencer,” Y/N says as the song comes to a close. The record player stops, but they don’t stop swaying, “And you told me you couldn’t dance,” she scoffs lightly, with her head still resting against his chest.

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, “me being romantic,”

“I don’t think that I’d want it any other way, Spencer,” Y/N says, removing her head from his chest and her hand from his. She cups his face, touching him lightly. Y/N holds him like he aches to be held. It’s gentle and tender, yet leaves him desiring more.

“Honest?” Spencer asks, daring to be brave.

“Truly,” she responds.

Spencer shifted slightly, so he can also hold her face in his hands. Y/N drops her hands though, wrapping them around Spencer’s waist to pull them closer together. Spencer’s phantom fingers are like that dance around that dance around Y/N’s skin.

It’s Y/N that initiates the kiss. She moves in slowly and tenuously, looking just as nervous as Spencer is. He’s shaky slightly, the anticipation getting to his head when all he can see is Y/N’s eyes looking into his and all he can think about is how soft her skin is. It’s all he’s ever wanted to think about. Her lips are soft and pillowy.

But it’s more than that.

Kissing her is everything to Spencer. It’s the breathy sighs she lets out as he moves his hands and rests them securely behind her neck. It’s the peachy scent of her perfume that’s so sweet and strong it should be overwhelming when all it is, is intoxicating. Kissing her is dizzying and terrifying, but wonderful and sweet. He can’t tell where his lips start and where her’s end, but it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t open his eyes because he knows he’s facing the mirror. But unlike before, he doesn’t need a mirror to know what he’s looking at. He can look into his soul for that.

“Very romantic,” Y/N says, smiling through the quick kisses she plants on his jawline, “I always thought you’d be a romantic,” he tells him.

Spencer brushes his thumb over Y/N’s bottom lip. It’s puffy and bitten from his kisses, but he thinks that it would be a shame to not bite and kiss it some more. He smiles so hard he knows that he’ll wake up in the morning and his mouth will hurt. But that’s the least of his worries if Y/N’s there to kiss it better.

“Honest?” Spencer says, calling back to the song, that’s now their song.

“Truly,”

---

TAGLIST (ADD YOURSELF HERE)

@shemarmooresfedora @willowrose99 @calm-and-doctor @spideygenius @measure-in-pain @nomajdetective @spencerreid9 @saspencereid @laurakirsten0502 @winifrede @muffin-cup @idonotexiste @pastelbabygirl19 @strawberryspence @g0lden-cth @spookydrreid

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader happy ending #spencer reid x reader one shot #spencer reid deserved a happy ending #criminal minds fanfiction

[shoezuki]

wait was the astrophysicist dude dream hired part of a scam????? holy shit????????? i didnt follow the speedrunning drama very closely so i never heard about that

bro it was phenomenal. that was one of the major players in my budding interest in mcyters no fucking lie. i havent had fun w drama since that time and i dont think i ever will.

in very short from memory: the 'astrophysicist' was an unnamed person who, according to dream, wanted to use a certain website as his citation for his credentials to keep himself anonymous. allegedly dream had contacted him specifically, but the astrophysicist wanted to go through this website so he did.

BUT. this website was so fucking fishy. basically it was like. almost a 'grading' site? essentially it offers Reviews of literary papers, job applications, that kind of shit. but it got like. people got deep with this thing

the website had been around only within the year, not having been even used or updated until months before dream used it. at one point even googling it came up with. nothing it wasnt a result in the search engine, you could only find it through shared links. (this changed after more ppl found n searched it i think). a lot of it's like 'about' and informational pages were just the nonsense jargon youd see in sample website formats. theres absolutely no credits to Any person on it, from who formed the website to who the 'experts' reviewing papers were. it was all about upfront payments with no examples or reassurances of the quality or credentials of these 'experts'. extremely fucking weird, basically. absolutely a scam site. this the type of thing ppl warn others about

also the website had some open 'blog' thing that for some reason anyone could comment on so ppl started putting porn. that was wild

anyways yea like it wasnt ENTIRELY damning. technically dream's explanation of him contacting a guy individually then the guy insisting to use this to remain anonymous COULD be true. but frankly he like...... coulda jus wrote it out n not. cited himself? i dont get why go thru a website at all jus write the paper and cite yourself as an anonymous astrophysicist.

but this paired w the fact his report fucking sucked down to the math and up to the simplest of formatting, even grammar and spelling mistakes. it was a shitshow and by god i loved it

#im an expert in this fucking scandal #anon #dream hate #KINDA????

[bottlecaprabbitgames]

You guys never really get a break huh?? I've been following IF content (and by extension, you guys) for quite awhile now and I was so disgusted to learn about all stuff that's allowed on COG. I still consume the content that gets created via omnibus but I steer clear of several authors previously mentioned on the blog as well as the website as a whole because of the content they post and host on their platforms. Honestly, the further away you guys get from that site the better, its brought you nothing but hate and discomfort that you really don't need or deserve and I hope you settle yourselves into a lovely little community as time passes. You're both doing God's work with your content and I'm so excited to see you and your works grow with time. You both are and continue to be amazing people :)

Bro this is the longest we’ve gone without a nasty inbox when we’re revealing the shit authors and ppl on COG do. I’m so surprised LMAO usually the stans infiltrate our inbox and send slurs and nasty comments.

Oh, same. If we’ve mentioned an author or someone here, I steer clear by like several hundred miles, you couldn’t pay me to touch some of these people’s works given what they’ve done,,,, it’s absolutely insane what they get away with!! And I agree; I want to push a few games through COG so I can get better at writing and learn Twine slowly as I go, but the moment I understand Twine well, I’m outtie, I aint got time for the absolute shitshow that goes on there. Also, I’m tired of people misgendering me and Faye as well as getting big mad about my decisions on how I’m writing sex scenes and romances! Yeah, I’m still bitter about everyone wanting Zed to be a rebound!!! I’m so bitter my blood is very close to turning to acid!!!

I do hope we can eventually get a nice community around us, one that’s mostly positive; my biggest worries are people whitewashing our characters or god forbid someone gets mad about a lot of our characters not being straight or not being cis. But, thankfully, that really hasn’t happened yet!

#wegotthebees #messages #discourse #block tag

[themidnight-ghost]

Hellfire

I posted this on AO3 but decided it should be posted here... not really happy with this for my first work in the Pitch Perfect fandom… haha. Sorry if you read this shitshow - i feel for you. x ☁️ 

“Freedom!” Fat Amy screamed after crashing through the transparent ceiling and spraying her father with a fire extinguisher.

Amongst the chaos of glass and smoke, Chloe grabbed Emily’s hand protectively and reached for Beca,

“Chloe, jump!” Beca ushered the ginger towards away from the danger, “I’ll catch up to you!”

“I’m not leaving you!”

Chloe’s look of fear tugged at Beca’s heartstrings. Here she was, saving her friends and girlfriend from being kidnapped by Australians. It couldn’t get any better than this.  

“I said I’d catch up!”

This time Emily interjected, “We’re not going anywhere!”

A couple of years ago, Beca wouldn’t care what Emily said. But now the girl had become part of their random, weird, nerdy family and even though Beca refused to admit it to anyone but Chloe, she’d become very fond of the legacy and had this maternal instinct to protect her.

______________

“I don’t know Chlo,” Beca was curled up in Choe’s arms, resting her head in the crook of Chloe’s neck whilst the taller girl threw her phone onto the duvet. “I just feel like she’s growing up too fast.”

Chloe ran her hands through her girlfriend’s hair, “You should be pleased; Emily is leading the Bellas!”

“I am, I just feel like we didn’t teach her enough.”

“Teach her enough about what?”

“The male species.”

Chloe scoffed at Beca’s statement.

“What would we know about men, babe?” She pressed a quick kiss to Beca’s forehead, “Besides, Benji’s a good dude, he’ll look after her.”

As if on cue, Fat Amy Winehouse appeared from behind the clothes rack.

“Oh my god, you guys are so cheesy. Get a room!”

“There’s 3 of us living in a New York apartment; we don’t have a room to spare.” Beca deadpanned.

“That’s what they all say.” Amy whispered, “And if we don’t have another room, why don’t you guys get second jobs?”

Chloe put a hand on Beca’s shoulder, “Why don’t you get a job?”

Amy strutted into their tiny kitchen, fixing her wig in the mirror before pulling a cookie from one of the tins.

“I’m too good for manual labour. They wouldn’t know what to do with all of this .” Amy gestured to herself obnoxiously, crumbs falling carelessly onto the floor.

“All of that?”

“What were you lesbians talking about anyway?” Amy changed the subject.

“Beca doesn’t feel like we taught Emily enough. She’s worried.”

“I would be too, Legacy’s like the dumbest kid I know.”

“She’s gonna be fine, Bec.” Chloe changed the subject swiftly, “besides, I think you’d be a pretty cool mom.”

Beca’s eyes widened, “We weren’t even talking about that!”

Amy and Chloe looked at Beca bluntly.

“Be real Beca, we all know you and Chloe are like her parents.” Beca put a finger up in objection, “And don’t even try to deny it! Remember when she went on that first date with Benji?” Amy lowered her voice and scowled, clearly mimicking Beca, “Be back before 10 and have fun. But not too much fun.”

“We weren’t that bad.” Beca looked up at Chloe, “Were we?”

“No, No. Of course not.” Chloe reassured herself.

________________

The fond memory was brief and quickly ended when fat Amy’s fire extinguisher started running out of smoke.

“I love you!” Beca pushed Chloe and Emily back and ran towards Amy, “We have to go!”

Beca grabbed Amy’s forearm and pulled her to the back of the Yacht, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders after seeing Emily and Chloe jump.

Unexpectedly, Beca felt her back being coated with heat, it was like being in an oven.

“What did you do?!” She screamed to Amy,

“I blew it up, bitch!”

Beca clutched Amy’s forearm with both hands as the force from the explosion pushed them over the side. Beca could feel the excess flames tugging at her shirt and scolding her shoulders.

“Emily?!” Chloe screamed once she broke the water,

“Chloe? Chloe, I'm here!”

Without thinking, Chloe swam over in Emily’s direction, snaking her hand around Emily’s back to keep her afloat.

The younger girl was trembling, “Where’s Beca?”

“I don’t-” Chloe turned to face the Yacht and screamed. The first thing she saw was Beca and Amy’s silhouettes against a raging ball of fire and flame. Beca seemed terrified, she flailed her arm around whilst clutching onto fat Amy, who somehow managed to collide with a boat before hitting the water. “Beca!”

Passing Emily to Aubrey, Chloe swam over to the crash site. Her heart jumped but immediately sank as Amy broke through the water barrier, leaving Beca missing.

“I REIGNED HELLFIRE!” Fat Amy screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Beca?”

“Jesus, Chloe. You’re ruining my moment.” Amy stopped when seeing Chloe’s face, “Beca hasn’t come back up?”

“She’s still down there.” Chloe trembled and pushed through the surface of the water like it was a ball pit, “Help me look!”

Amy scanned the horizon, “Chloe! Help me lift the boat!”

The best friend and the girlfriend swam towards the tiny wooden boat which Beca and Amy bought with them, and Chloe’s heart sank as she noticed a scorched section of cloth barely clutching the side.

Beca was never a strong swimmer, and Chloe didn’t know what she would do if they never found her. She figured she’d demand every ocean to be drained so they could locate any remains of a body. God knows how that would work, but Chloe Beale would make it happen.

“Beca?”

To Amy, Chloe sounded like a broken record, but that was understandable. However, the ginger was pretty useless when it came to lifting boats.

“Beca!”

Amy held the boat high enough for Chloe to pull a shaking and sputtering Beca into her arms.

“Are you alright?” Chloe held her girlfriend like her life depended on it and choked back a sob as Beca clutched her shirt.

“I could be better.”

Chloe pulled Beca closer, “I was so fucking worried.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.” The smaller girl murmured.

“Well then, that proves something.”

Beca wiped the streaking tear from Chloe’s cheek and kissed her lightly, it wasn’t much, but it was meaningful. Beca probably didn’t have much breath left, and Chloe wasn’t the only worried one.

“Beca! Chloe!”

The pair looked in the shouting direction to see Emily breaking away from Aubrey’s hold before proceeding to swim over to them as the remaining yacht debris fell to a standstill.

Chloe and Beca parted, allowing Emily to swim into their hug,

“You really scared me,”

Chloe pulled her close, “Sorry, kiddo.”

The found family floated amongst the chaos. As the helicopters swirled like vultures above them, no words needed to be said, it was just them . And Chloe was so thankful for that.

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect 3 #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect fanfiction #bechloe #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe fanfic #beca mitchell #chloe beale #emily junk #aubrey posen