The History/ Fandom Spot

Operation Secret Bunny follows the traditional Secret Santa protocol. To participate, you must be prepared to give as much as you receive.

The Dossier: You will fill out the Google Form detailing what you're excited to create and what you'd love to receive.

The Media: We are currently accepting Fanfiction, Fanart, Gifsets, and Fan Videos.

The Pairing: Our tactical team (the mods—@expectiations and @unitarchives) will match based on your preferences. You'll receive a briefing with your giftee's details so you can start your assignment.

The Secret: Keep your identity under wraps! You'll only reveal yourself once the posting window opens in May.

⚠️ Operational Rules

To ensure the success of Operation Secret Bunny, all operatives must adhere to the following guidelines:

Minimum Requirements: To keep things fair, your gift must meet one of these benchmarks: Fic of at least 1000 words, a set of at least 2 original Gifs, a Video at least 1 minute in length, or a completed Art piece (no rough napkins, please!).

Anonymous Intel: We highly encourage "Anon Shenanigans." Once you get your assignment, feel free to reach out to your giftee via anonymous asks! Ask for prompt details, drop cryptic teasers, or just say hello. It makes the guessing game much more fun.

Extraction Protocol: If life gets in the way and you cannot complete your assignment, you must notify the mods immediately. This allows us to find a "Backup Bunny" so no one is left empty-handed.

No "To Be Continued": Your gift must be complete upon posting. You can create a multi-chapter fic or a series of art pieces, but the entire project must be finished and shard within the posting window.

The 48-Hour Rule: Please acknowledge your gift within 48 hours of receiving it. A quick "Thank you!" keeps the momentum going and lets your creator know their hard work arrived safely.

Human Intelligence Only: We are a community of creators. Generative AI is strictly prohibited. This includes fics, art, gifs, videos, and music.

New Missions Only: All gifts must be created specifically for this event. No recycling old drafts or adding chapters to existing series. Let's make something fresh!

He's Chris to his friends, but it takes a while to get there - he's not 100% certain he even likes it. Christofer carries weight and meaning for him. His dad was Christofer, and so was his grandfather. And it's his mother's voice, the way she would bark "Christofer!" up the stairs when he'd sleep past midday as a teenager, or the way she whispers it when he goes home - if he even gets to go home at all each year.

His one-bed flat is bare bones because he could be asked to transfer at a moment's notice. He's lived out of 3-4 boxes and a rucksack for years. Nevertheless, he finds ways to make his place home.

He carries a little stack of polaroids from over the years which get stuck on the fridge wherever he's staying. The first is from his 16th birthday, sandwiched between his parents, already looming over them, looking sheepish whilst holding a lopsided homemade cake. There are more from the academy - arms slung around mates, camping out in the desert, terrible looking clubs. Wonky-smiled selfies in different cities: Berlin, Cairo, Minsk, New York, Shanghai. A precious, slightly blurred image of his arms wrapped around his grandmother, kissing her forehead, a smudged date in the corner - "2019 (RIP)".

He also carries his precious collection of vinyls, even when he can't take the record player with him. To be honest, he's a bit of a vinyl nerd, and he'd definitely be a true collector if he didn't stop playing them to death.

His favourite band is Kraftwerk - definitely his mother's influence.

Speaking of his mother, he learned two invaluable things from her: German, and how to cook. Marlene Ibrahim, we salute you.

Gets annoyed when people assume he can make an excellent döner even though it's true and he's very smug about it.

The second he gets home from work, he puts on a vinyl, strips off and gets in the shower. Anything and everything else can wait.

Well, except his cat, a gorgeous black tom called Herr Schmidt. He walked into Christofer's bunk when he was on a mission just north of Munich and never left. He's been with him ever since.

Most evenings are spent sat with Herr Schmidt, music playing, lights dimmed, the windows open as far as they'll go to let the night air into the boxy flat. The vague, disconnected sounds of the city are a tonic after a day of never being able to truly switch off.

Christofer doesn't sleep well, unless he's with someone he trusts - and it's been a long time since that happened.

He hates early mornings despite the career, mostly because he only manages to drift off properly a few hours before his alarm, Herr Schmidt curled up on his tummy.

He refuses to drink coffee unless it's dark enough to stand a spoon in it.

He loves dark chocolate with salt, anything with cherries (especially ice cream), and full bodied red wine. Not really one for beer despite being put through the wringer of lad drinking culture. Can't stand white wine unless it's for cooking.

Bisexual disaster. Hates dating apps but still makes a profile around once a month only to scroll for five minutes and delete it.

Hates nightclubs worldwide but tells anyone who'll listen how much better they are in Berlin.

The thing he misses the most about home, apart from his parents, is their clawfoot bathtub. He loves baths, even though the majority aren't anywhere near long enough to hold him. He soaks with his legs hanging out, vinyl playing, pine scented bubbles cocooning him, little foam pyramid on his head, for hours.

He's bad at remembering names but he's exceptional with faces. Once he sees you, you're etched in his mind forever. Your scent too, his olfactory memory is second to none.

The name thing bothers him as he always feels rude for not remembering. He always asks new people to let him know exactly how they want to be addressed and how to pronounce their name. It's important to him.

He enjoys reading military history but especially diaries. The battles don't concern him, the people do. He really likes the work of Laurie Lee.

He's tried keeping his own diaries multiple times over the years. He has a collection of carefully purchased journals all empty except for the first page: "1st January...".

When he's not at UNIT, he finds it incredibly difficult to switch off. Reading is a great joy for him, but it's becoming harder and harder to concentrate. Most evenings he just lounges around, flicking through TV channels, not engaging, just waiting for the next shift.

Sometimes he'll call someone - a certain someone - just to have her there on the other end of the line. They don't even talk, they just exist, breathing together. He stretches out on his bed and he knows she's doing the same in her Highgate townhouse.

He goes out for long night walks when he's especially restless, wandering from his Clapham flat all over south London, sometimes all the way to the river (long legs are useful).