#my comics are ~riveting~

[canisalbus]

✦ Cockroach ✦

[star-trekster]

Star Trek TOS: S4E20 The Brownie Incident

Also love of my life (hallucigenia)

Based on @/Punkitt is here Iconic MLP Comics: 1 2

[inspiteofganon]

does anyone else play "does the artist think Ganondorf is ugly?" when looking at pictures of him or is that just me

[iloveschiaparelli]

If you go with me to a museum be forewarned I only have 2 states of being:

[iguanadonis]

Rib Cordero, the handsome aircraft mechanic from my comic, Rivets 🛠️🌞⛓️

[theramblingsofadork]

So… I was working on something that was supposed to be a cute, small comic, and it somehow blew up into a massive one. I’m sitting at 6 panels with backgrounds which is CRAZY for me considering I’ve only done one other comic before.

There’s no way I’m getting it all done today since it’s 4pm and I haven’t even eaten breakfast yet, so here’s (yet another) WIP.

What’s Rivet looking at, ey?

[hibikichanart]

[grassbreads]

Y'all should read Ingress Adventuring Co

Genuinely one of the most fun and charming web comics I've ever read.

[cyclogenesis]

50/50 on this because of course Logan's a reader but that snowed-in sausage party of a list is an insult to his character. Women authors I think Logan reads: Toni Morrison, Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Pearl S. Buck, Louisa May Alcott, Harper Lee, Ursula K. Le Guin, Shirley Jackson, Octavia E. Butler, Isabel Allende, Zora Neale Hurston, add your own tbh

Honestly can’t say I’m too surprised that Logan is a reader. I wish he got more moments of down time like this in the comics 😭

[niniwritesxo]

so doomed

summary:

when Ethan stumbles upon the reader’s hilariously odd kink by accident, he can’t help but tease her mercilessly.

——————————————————————————

It was one of those rare quiet evenings, the kind where the world outside felt hushed and forgotten. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while Ethan Landry sat cross-legged on the floor nearby. He was supposed to be helping you study, but instead, he’d been spinning a pen between his fingers, a smirk tugging at his lips like he was dying to cause trouble.

“Hey, you’re staring at the same page for, like, ten minutes,” Ethan said, voice teasing. “Did the words suddenly turn into hieroglyphics or…?”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “I’m fine, Ethan. Some of us don’t need constant distractions.”

Ethan grinned. “Who said I was a distraction?” He leaned back, hands resting lazily on his knees. His dark eyes glinted with mischief as he tilted his head to look at you.

“You’re always a distraction,” you muttered under your breath.

That was all the opening he needed. Ethan’s grin turned wolfish. “Ohhh, I’m a distraction, huh? Well, if I’m gonna get blamed for it…” Before you could process what was happening, he reached over and plucked the textbook out of your lap. “…then I might as well make it worth your while.”

“Ethan, don’t you dare—”

He ignored you completely, flipping through the book at random and reading in a voice that could only be described as obnoxiously dramatic, ‘Chapter five: Understanding basic psychological principles…’”

His tone deepened comically, dripping with mock seriousness. “Pay attention now. This is riveting stuff.”

You lunged to grab it back, but Ethan shifted his weight, pulling the book just out of your reach. You scrambled forward, close enough now that you were practically hovering over him. That’s when he did it—an innocent little thing that shouldn’t have sent heat crawling up your neck.

He looked up at you, holding the book high above his head, and said in a low, smooth voice, “C’mon. Ask nicely.”

You froze.

Something about the way he said it—soft, teasing, with that irritatingly perfect smirk, made your brain short-circuit. Your face went hot, and your mouth opened, but no words came out. Ethan blinked, his smug grin faltering slightly as he took in your reaction.

“Wait…” His brows knit together, and then oh no. His grin was back, bigger than ever. “Did that—did that just fluster you?”

“What? No!” you blurted, far too quickly.

Ethan leaned forward, squinting at you like you were a science experiment. “Oh my god. It did.” He looked thrilled. “I just told you to ask nicely, and you—” His voice dropped again, mocking you. “You got all flustered! Is this—do you have, like, a thing for—”

“Ethan, I swear—”

“Oh, you do, don’t you?” He practically cackled, his face lit up like he’d just won the lottery. “What is it, huh? Is it the bossy thing? Or—wait—” He put on his best fake serious voice again. “Is it when someone tells you what to do?”

You shot him a glare, cheeks burning hotter by the second. “I will end you, Ethan.”

But Ethan was relentless. “Oh my god. I’ve cracked the code.” He leaned closer, smirking like he’d just discovered your darkest secret. “You like that, don’t you? That’s your thing.”

You opened your mouth to deny it, because of course you were going to deny it but the words caught in your throat. Ethan’s grin faltered for just a second, and he narrowed his eyes, watching you closely.

“Wait… is it actually true?”

You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t breathe.

“No. Way.” He let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his luck. “This is amazing. You’re amazing.”

“I hate you,” you muttered, covering your face with your hands.

Ethan’s laughter was bright and unrelenting as he fell back against the couch. “Oh, this is the best day of my life. I’m never letting you live this down.” He looked up at you, eyes dancing with amusement, but something else, too—something sharper and darker, like he was tucking the knowledge away for later.

And when he said, just to push your buttons one last time, “Be good and sit back down,” you didn’t miss the way he watched your reaction like a hawk, nor the satisfied smirk when you obeyed without even thinking.

You were so doomed.

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Read pt.1 here

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last

Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!

♡ ♡

She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.

It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.

She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.

She needed more.

♡ ♡

After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.

You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.

You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.

You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.

If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.

♡ ♡

Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.

It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.

A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test

Now you need me?

A.A: huh

Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?

A.A: need to get ahead

Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?

A.A: too loud

Okay coffee shop

A.A: I don’t like coffee

I didn’t ask

A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8

Little late for studying

A.A: do you ever shut up

If you promise you’ll be nice

A.A: I didn’t say that

I’m sure you’ll be a good girl

A.A: let me come over

See you at 8 tomorrow.

Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.

♡ ♡

When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.

When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.

She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.

You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.

You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.

“Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.

The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.

“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

“New game.”

She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”

You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“

“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”

She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.

Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.

You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.

You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.

“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.

“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.

You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”

She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.

You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.

“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.

Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.

“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.

The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.

“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”

“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.

“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.

“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.

Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.

“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.

“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.

Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.

“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.

This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

[freelance-spirit]

The Christmas comic’s over but the tithing is yet to end. If you have something you want drawn or have a riveting question don’t be shy cause it tis the season and I’m a claerin’ out my ask box. Happiest Holidays❗️

[schraubd]

New Frontiers of Darkness

The Washington Post has unveiled its new slogan to supplement (in practice, supplant) the old "Democracy Dies in Darkness": "Riveting Storytelling for All of America." I can't tell you how much I hate this. First of all, even out of context, it sounds both comically corporate and unbearably patronizing. "Riveting storytelling for all of America" sounds like how to market the Scholastic Book Fairs for emerging readers, not one of America's papers of record. But of course, we must take this slogan in context. And the context is the Post spending the last few months humiliating itself and dynamiting its journalistic credibility by repeated acts of groveling towards the MAGA movement. And I know I'm beating a dead horse here, but this slogan really encapsulates the media's self-delusion that it is part of the liberal family. Again, recall my thesis here: the media thinks its main audience is liberals, and so it sees its job as to challenge liberals with "alternative perspectives" or "competing views" (as opposed to just telling the truth and letting the chips fall where they may). One implication of this is that conservatives are a growth audience (because of course the Post in its prior manifestation couldn't be speaking to them) -- this is what "for all of America" means. We're no longer speaking just to the latte-sipping coastal elites, but to all of America. And lest you think I'm projecting, they're being quite explicit that this is what they mean: Mr. Bezos, the founder of Amazon, has made comments in line with the new mission statement in conversations with Post journalists in recent years, according to two people familiar with those discussions. Mr. Bezos has expressed hopes that The Post would be read by more blue-collar Americans who live outside coastal cities, mentioning people like firefighters in Cleveland. He has also said that he is interested in expanding The Post’s audience among conservatives, the people said. Now nominally, recognizing that conservatives are part of the audience could mean that the Post starts committing to telling them things they don't want to hear. For example, they could be informed, in no uncertain terms, how Trump's tariffs will crush working families with spiraling grocery bills. Or they could be told, in clear-eyed fashion, of how Trump's inner circle is proposing increasingly fascistic and lawless abuses of government power. Or they could be shown, without varnish or spin, how the Republican Party has begun to view sexual assault and rape as virtues in its political leaders -- not even a secret to be ashamed of, but as an affirmative basis for support and promotion. But of course, we all know that is not what Bezos and his cronies have in mind. "Riveting storytelling" suggests that what they want is sensation and soothing -- to reaffirm their (new) readers' priors, never to challenge them with something as dirty and discomforting as the truth. Conservatives can't tolerate hearing that Donald Trump was a grotesquely unsuitable choice for the presidency, and so the Post (even in its editorial endorsements) won't aggravate them. The Post knows that many if not most of Trump's cabinet picks fail the most basic (by the Post's own lights!) criteria of qualification for office in a democratic society -- respecting the outcomes of a democratic process -- and so the Post will just pretend it doesn't matter. The Scholastic Book Fair analogy is more than snark, for this is of a piece with the broader trend of infantilizing the American right. Conservatives, once again, are being treated as children, and spoiled children as that -- whatever junk keeps their attention, that's what will be provided.  A once great newspaper, reduced to an entertaining diversion for spoiled, coddled brats. Maybe the slogan isn't so bad after all. via The Debate Link https://ift.tt/lpZWSRu

[fluentmoviequoter]

Oh, We're Lovers Now?

Requested by Anonymous: friends to lovers with Hal Jordan with accidental kisses

Pairing: Hal Jordan x fem!reader

Summary: After accidentally kissing your friend Hal Jordan, you're saved by Green Lantern and realize that your relationship is special.

Warnings: one trauma joke ab Hal's dad, fluff, reader is injured by a villain that hasn't been in a comic in over a decade, panic attack, many kisses, kind of a 3+1 fic

Word Count: 3.5k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Hal Jordan Masterlist | Request Info

“You’re late,” you muse when you hear your front door open.

“I know,” your best friend Hal replies. “There was a crash at work, and I couldn’t get out on time.”

You stop what you’re doing, drop the wooden spoon from your hand into the bowl, and turn slowly to face Hal. He hides a smile at your reaction; you can tell because his cheek hollows when his tongue presses against it.

“Are you okay?” you inquire.

Hal lets his smile appear as he replies, “I’m sorry.”

“Answer the question, Hal.”

“I’m fine,” he assures you, walking into the kitchen to hold your arms. “Everyone is fine.”

Nodding, you turn away from him and feel his hands slip from you. When you first met Hal, you worried every time he mentioned work. Test flying planes and experimental aircraft is not the safest job in the world, but Hal is good at it. So, over the years, you’ve learned to trust him more. As a result, you worry less. It doesn’t make it any easier to hear about bad things, though, and the thought that it could have been him who crashed clouds your mind.

“What did you do today?” Hal inquires as he shrugs out of his jacket.

“Not much,” you answer. “Cooked a full meal for you and then thought you stood me up, so, the usual.”

Hal rolls his eyes at your teasing, then tosses his jacket onto a nearby chair and returns to your side.

“Thank you,” he says. “And I mean it.”

“Do you not usually?” you ask, looking over your shoulder at him.

Hal tilts his chin in thought, then admits, “Depends.”

“Hey when you fly tomorrow, be sure and check the ignition sequence and do the gyro calibrations.”

“Stop trying to talk shop with me,” Hal pleads. “How ‘bout you tell me about how you do your hair or something, anything less painful.”

“You’re just mad because I know more about flux capacitors than you.”

Hal groans, dropping his forehead against your shoulder. You laugh beneath him as you turn the knob on the stove to turn the burner off.

“If you’re done being dramatic, can you grab the plates?” you request.

“Dramatic?!” Hal exclaims. “I have never, not once in my life been dramatic. Not since 1993, at least.”

“Trauma jokes aren’t always funny, Hal,” you chide, “but that one wasn’t bad.”

“I bet you’d laugh at the Flash’s trauma jokes,” Hal murmurs as he reaches over your head to get two plates from your cabinet.

“Hey, I need to go shopping this weekend, wanna come with?” you invite as you serve yourself and Hal.

“As riveting as that sounds, I already have plans,” Hal deadpans.

“Okay, I’ll ask my neighbor to tell me how the jeans fit.”

“On second thought,” Hal interjects, turning toward you with his finger raised.

Shaking your head, you place Hal’s plate by the seat that has become his and sit beside him. He’s your friend, but teasing him about hanging out with other people – other men, specifically – riles him up in a way you can’t resist.

A crash sounds in the distance as you take the first bite of dinner, and within ten seconds, Hal’s phone chimes. He taps the screen, reads the message, and looks up at you with an apology ready.

“Go,” you say, smiling. “I’ll pack up the leftovers if you get off work again any time soon.”

Hal sighs and pushes up from his seat. He leans toward you to kiss your cheek, but you turn toward him at the last minute, expecting him to wish you a sarcastic farewell, and your lips meet. Time freezes, and all you can feel or think of is Hal’s lips against yours. Friends kiss sometimes, right? you think rather than let yourself realize how right it feels.

You exhale and move back, keeping your gaze on Hal’s widened eyes as he clears his throat. His hand is flat against the table and only inches remain between you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. “I didn’t know you were-“

“Going for your cheek, yeah,” Hal finishes. “Sorry.”

“Uh, be- be safe, okay?” you stutter. “We’ll talk.”

“Later, yeah, we’ll talk later,” he agrees, walking backward toward the door.

“Hal, wait,” you call.

He stops, and his brows raise as he leans toward you.

“Your jacket,” you remind him, pointing to the back of the chair.

Hal shakes his head and murmurs, “Oh, right,” as he snatches it up. “Bye.”

After he leaves, Green Lantern flies across the sky, and you raise your fingers to your lips, forgetting about dinner.

It was accidental, you remind yourself. Pull it together; he was going for your cheek. Like a friend. Because that’s what you are.

Days after your accidental kiss, you exit your bedroom with one thing on your mind: Justice League-themed breakfast drinks. You aren’t sure why Coast City’s most popular tea and coffee chain decided to create teas and coffees based on superheroes. After scrolling through too many copycat recipes last night, you want to try one.

The television in your living room is on, though you don’t remember leaving the volume on. Shrugging, you enter the kitchen and look through your cabinets to gather ingredients before you open the fridge.

“… A spokesperson says Ferris Aircraft pilot Hal Jordan ejected in time and no one was injured,” a reporter says. “There will be a press conference Friday afternoon regarding the company’s future and the Air Force’s decisions on acquiring the latest Ferris technology.”

You push the fridge closed and look into the living room. Someone moves in the shadow of the television light, and your heart thumps harder in your chest. They move toward the doorway, and you raise a carton of milk as the shadow moves something between their arms.

As he steps into the kitchen, Hal pulls his shirt over his head, then immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Put the milk down,” he requests slowly.

“What-“ you begin before your eyes drop quickly to Hal’s exposed chest. “You- the-“

“Deep breath,” Hal advises. “Can I finish putting this shirt on without getting hit by that milk?”

You swallow and lift your gaze back to Hal’s face. He smiles and grips the bottom of his shirt to yank it downward.

“You look disappointed,” he muses. “Want me to take it off again?”

“Shut up,” you grumble, setting the milk on the counter. “You didn’t tell me you had to eject from the plane.”

“It was an accident,” he responds. “That’s all.”

“You…” With your eyes on the counter, you say, “You’re a good pilot, Hal. This kind of stuff isn’t supposed to happen to you.”

“It happens to everybody,” he reminds you. “I’m fine, I promise. Now, what are you making?”

Your mind clears, something which occurs often when Hal is around, and you turn toward him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you say, “I don’t think I want to tell you.”

“Ooh,” he breathes out, smiling as he leans against the counter beside you. “It must be embarrassing.”

“You know, you’re missing some really good cartoons, and I think Channel 7 is showing-“

“You think you’re funny,” Hal interrupts, dropping his head against his shoulder.

“I think I’m adorable,” you correct. “And I’m not telling you what I’m making because you’ll make fun of me.”

“Me? Make fun of you? I’d never.” Hal shifts so his weight rests on his hip, propped against the counter, before he adds, “That’s what friends are for.”

“Friends, right,” you murmur, twisting the food coloring package so you can see it.

“Can I have one?” Hal inquires.

“I’m not making them,” you say through a laugh. “Not until you leave. You do still have a home, right?”

Hal looks around, then says, “This place is pretty homey, and I distinctly remember you saying, ‘Make yourself at home, Hally-Wally.’”

You lift one brow and point out, “I have never – and will never – call you Hally-Wally.”

“Let’s make a wager,” Hal announces.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m serious.”

Hal doesn’t say anything else. He looks at you, so you sigh and ask, “What wager?”

“If I win, you make us whatever you're wanting to make. If you win, you get to pick something to call me for a week – appropriate, inappropriate, stupid, whatever you want.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. Wait, what’s the wager? What are we doing to win?”

Hal smiles. “We’re going to fight.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh,” Hal says, moving back as if surprised. “I didn’t realize you were scared.”

“I’m not scared, I just know you’d win.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate the confidence, but we have to do something.”

“No, we don’t! You can just go home.” After you say it, you realize you don’t actually know why Hal is in your apartment. Or why he was changing clothes in your living room.

“C’mon,” Hal whispers. “Live a little.”

You sigh and rub the side of your palm gently across your forehead. “Fine. But if I win, you have to take me on another desert drive.”

“Deal,” Hal says, extending his hand.

“And do donuts,” you add.

Hal nods, and you take his hand. After he shakes it once, Hal uses your joined hands to pull you forward. As you fall toward the ground, you grab Hal’s arm with your free hand and bring him down with you. On the floor of your apartment, you move your shoulders, attempting to get out from underneath Hal. You knew before you agreed it would be hard, if not impossible, to defeat Hal in a fight. Granted, it’s not a real fight, and there are no rules, so you move your hand to Hal’s side and dance your fingers along his serratus anterior.

“No,” Hal grunts, jerking sideways.

You roll with him, landing against his side and pushing up onto your elbow. Reaching across his chest, you try to pull his other arm across him, but Hal fights against your movement. He leans away from you so you reach higher. When Hal leans up, planning to hook his leg between yours to flip you once more, his jaw brushes against yours. You stop, and Hal slows. His lips press against the corner of your mouth, and yours are on his cheek because of the angle caused by your failed roughhousing. How you accidentally kissed Hal twice in one week isn’t clear, but the world around you seems to slow.

“Sorry,” you whisper against his cheek.

“My fault,” he answers, unconsciously moving his lips against yours.

You lean back onto your heels and wait for Hal to sit up.

“Call it a draw?” he inquires, reaching forward to straighten your shirt.

“I’ll, uh, I can make the drinks,” you offer. “If you want to stay.”

“Sure,” Hal says with a nod. “And thanks for telling me it’s a drink.”

You stand and walk toward the kitchen. “It’s the Green Lantern latte.”

Hal smiles as he watches you go, wondering if he’d be pressing his luck by asking if you like Green Lantern or are just thirsty.

The Ferris Aircraft cafeteria is never busy. You visit Hal at work a few times a month or so, usually over lunch, and you’ve never seen more than twenty people in the space at one time. Today, you ignore the other people sitting at the wing-shaped tables and watch the door. Hal texted that he was running late and you have a joke ready to go about how much time he spends admiring himself in the mirror.

When the door swings open, however, your smile drops. A large, dark-haired man dressed in a blue and gold overcoat enters the cafeteria with an umbrella hooked over his wrist.

“Live and let live, people!” he yells, cracking his knuckles as he looks around the room. “Anyone in here been struck by lightning?”

No one answers, and the man shakes his head. He points at a Ferris Aircraft employee using his phone beneath the table, and a lightning bolt extends from his pointer finger. The phone sparks before it falls to the floor, and a woman whimpers as she sinks in her seat.

“I suggest you start talking,” the man demands. “If you’re staying quiet to save your life, there is no need. I’m not here for you, I’m here for them.”

He points to the flight control tower and a black storm cloud forms above it.

“What do you want?” someone asks.

“Carl Ferris designed an indestructible fighter jet. I want the prototype.”

“It was destroyed!”

“You really believe that?” he challenges.

The room falls silent, and his jaw tenses. The sky outside darkens, and thunder rumbles loudly, rattling the tables and chairs. Gripping your seat, you watch the man.

“That kind of thing can’t be safe,” you call. “It wouldn’t be easy to find, if it even exists anymore.”

Turning toward you slowly, the man muses, “You seem to know a lot about it.”

“Just-“ you interrupt yourself with a swallow. “Just common sense, I think. It sounds dangerous and there’s so many regulations on military-grade weapons.”

“Then use that common sense to tell me where it might be.”

“I have no idea; I don’t even work here!”

“So, you don’t fly?”

“No.”

The man runs his tongue over his top lip. “I’m Major Disaster. What’s your name?”

You whisper your name, and he walks toward you, leaning against the opposite side of your table.

“Lightning strikes are dangerous. The last one I felt wiped parts of my memory, made it harder to do what I’m good at-“

“Villainy?” someone interjects flatly.

You keep your eyes on Major Disaster, but he turns quickly.

“Green Lantern,” he seethes. “It’s too late. I know what I deserve, and I’m going to take it.”

Green Lantern shrugs, then says, “No, you’re not.”

Major Disaster points to you and says, “She can’t fly.”

“Neither can you, if memory serves,” Green Lantern replies. “Although, I guess yours doesn’t, does it?”

Green Lantern flies out of the way of a sudden lightning bolt. As the sky becomes pitch black outside, several employees run toward the exit and into the hallway.

“I know who you are!” Major Disaster roars.

“You knew who I am, Paul,” Green Lantern replies. “Still just causing chaos. Not quite the life you wanted, huh?”

Major Disaster stops suddenly and turns toward you. You scramble off your seat, but Major Disaster extends his arms toward you, and a strong gust of wind pins you against the wall.

Green Lantern forms a transparent green train and knocks Major Disaster off his feet, but the hurricane-force wind continues to hold you in place.

“You want a plane, you’re going to have to build it yourself,” Green Lantern growls as he kicks Major Disaster to keep him down. “Clear the sky and I’ll let you walk out of here with your dignity.”

Major Disaster laughs and leans against Green Lantern’s foot. “What dignity? How am I supposed to build a plane that stands up to what I can do?”

Green Lantern looks at you and notices that you’re struggling to breathe with increased pressure on your chest. Major Disaster uses his loss of focus to knock Green Lantern off of him and onto one of the tables.

“You can fly, GL,” Major Disaster says, his coat fluttering in his created breeze. “I can fly. She can’t. So, I’ll give you a choice. Help me find my plane, or she takes a little flight.”

“I don’t make deals with psychopaths, Paul,” Green Lantern replies, holding his ringed hand out before him.

Major Disaster clicks his tongue, then sweeps his arms from right to left. The wind holding you in place shifts, and the glass windows shatter before you’re tossed out of them. Carried up on a wind vortex, you scream and wave your hands wildly, attempting to find anything to catch yourself with.

Major Disaster yells as he Green Lantern shoves him into the concrete runway, then silences. He loses consciousness, and his weather clears. The sky shines a bright blue, the clouds fade over the horizon, and the wind holding you up calms in a single breath. Suddenly, your yells of fear turn to a continuous, terrified scream as you freefall toward the earth. Your head spins as your chest heaves, though your lungs feel completely devoid of oxygen. Closing your eyes, you anticipate you’ll never open them again, but warm arms wrap around you, and you stop. You move quickly, pressing one hand against the firm chest you’re being held against.

Opening your eyes, you see Green Lantern holding you and lowering slowly toward the ground. Your breaths remain short and uneven, and when he drops one arm to set you on the ground, you cling to Green Lantern like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded – literally and figuratively.

“Hey,” he murmurs, keeping one hand around your waist as the other moves to the back of your head. “Uh, miss? Take a deep breath.”

“He- I-“ you stutter before struggling to take another breath.

“C’mon, focus, breathe with me,” he encourages.

You shake your head, too panicked to even consider watching his breaths to imitate them, and he tightens his grip on you.

Without much thought, he pulls you against him. Green Lantern kisses you, and with your lips pressed firmly to his, you forget about the fear and the panic and freeze at the sudden attention.

He pulls back almost immediately, apologizes, asks if you’re okay, waits for you to nod, and then flies away. You turn, panting for breath, and watch the green streak fade into the blue sky.

“Hal Jordan,” you whisper before you run toward the approaching police cars.

Hal paces on a rooftop, tapping his fist against his forehead as he thinks. He replays the kiss, sees the look in your eyes again, and berates himself for ruining everything. You froze when Hal kissed you because he overstepped and didn’t think. He was running on adrenaline, relieved that he caught you and needed you to breathe, but there were other ways to deal with all of those things. It wasn’t an intentional kiss, even if the feelings behind it were.

“Stop accidentally kissing your friends, Hal,” he tells himself. “Friend! Singular. Don’t make this a habit or Barry will never let you live it down.”

Hal’s ring grows brighter, and he sighs before he follows its beckoning call.

“Green Lantern!”

Hal turns away from his incapacitated foe and says, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t reply, running toward him. He apologizes again as you near him, but you remain silent. When you reach him, you slide your hands up his chest and onto his shoulders. He holds your waist and watches you.

“Are you-“ he begins.

You kiss Hal, interrupting his question and changing everything. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed him, but it’s the first time you’ve meant it and done it on purpose to show him how you feel. Hal is your friend, but you’ve felt more for years, and after kissing Green Lantern today and feeling the emotions behind how he touched you, you’re sure this is the right thing to do.

The accidental kisses made the world still but this kiss is different. Hal raises one hand to your cheek, moving with you as the world shatters. You only know Hal in this moment, and he is all you will ever want or need.

Hal pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His thumb brushes over your cheek, and for once in his life, Hal stays quiet.

“Let’s make a wager,” you whisper.

“You already know my secret identity, what could we possibly bet?”

“I think there’s a lot more options now that we aren’t friends who kiss on accident.”

“Oh, we’re lovers now?” he jokes.

“I do have a crush on Green Lantern,” you reply with a smile.

“He might like you, too.”

“Might?!” you repeat incredulously. “That’s how it is?”

Hal shrugs, and a green light flashes on your wrist before a charm bracelet appears. The links are decorated with little planes, green gems, coffee cups, and a heart.

“That’s how it is,” he says.

“What now?”

Hal smiles and holds you against his side as he pushes off the ground and shoots upward into the sky. You wrap your arms around him tightly, focusing on Hal rather than Coast City growing smaller beneath you.

Hal lands in the desert, where his car is parked, and his suit disappears.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he announces. “Again.”

“On accident?” you ask, stepping toward the car. “Because I was wrongly distracted when we were fighting for drifting in the sand.”

Hal disappears, and you raise your brows before you feel him standing behind you. He puts his hand on your waist and turns you to face him before he kisses you again.

Bonus:

“Wait, you’ve been Green Lantern this whole time?!” you ask, stepping back from Hal.

“Not the whole time,” he replies, his brows pinching.

“I was worried about you crashing a plane, but you can fly,” you accuse, pushing both hands against his chest.

Hal catches your wrists and points out, “I was worried about you crashing too. Call it even?”

“Not a chance.”

[pagesandpothos]

Hidden Gems of 2024

I read a lot of new releases in 2024 and many of those are really great books that have been getting a lot of well-deserved attention. There are a few however that I think deserve some more hype.

Here are a few underrated gems that I think deserve even more readers and much more praise. All of these are LGBTQIA+ and most are romantasy since that is what I enjoyed the most this year.

Sorcery and Small Magics by Maiga Doocy: As I've said many times, this is my favorite book of the year. If you love fantasy, queer slow burns, spells gone wrong, or the forced proximity trope then this is a must-read. There's no release date yet for book #2 but I'm hopeful we'll get a date soon! I can't wait to continue Leo and Grimm's story!

Running Close to the Wind by Alexandra Rowland: Alexandra Rowland is an author that most fans of queer books love, so this might be less of a "hidden gem" than some of the others on this list, but I'm still including it because I think it deserves even more attention. This is truly the funniest book I have ever read. I don't think I have ever had so much fun reading a book!

Shoestring Theory by Mariana Costa: This was one of the biggest surprises of the year for me. This is an excellent queer romantasy that has complex characters and relationships with an exciting time-travel plot. If you love complicated enemies-to-lovers stories, you should check this one out.

This Will Be Fun by E.B. Asher: is a sweet and funny cozy romantasy about a group of heroes who once saved their realm. Now, they're on a second mission after a decade of estrangement. This is a silly and fun time with two second-chance romances (one is sapphic). There's a great friendship storyline as well.

All The Hidden Paths by Foz Meadows: is a followup to the popular queer romantasy, A Strange and Stubborn Endurance. This is just as good as the first book with an exciting political plot, great development for Vel/Cae, and good new characters.

Someone You Can Build a Nest In by John Wiswell: A delightful and dark fairytale that somehow manages to be both gruesome and feel like a cozy fantasy at the same time. There's a sapphic monster romance with an asexual human woman that is incredibly sweet.

The Crack at the Heart of Everything by Fiona Fenn: Is a terrific redemption story about two men who fought for the villain's side in a devastating war. Orpheus and Fenrir have an amazing rivals-to-lovers story that starts as a little comic relief and grows into something truly heartfelt. The world-building feels like a cool blend of high-fantasy, post-apocalyptic, Dystopia, and even horror. This is a unique and adventurous addition to the queer romantasy genre.

Spitting Gold by Carmella Lowkis: A historical mystery that focuses on two sisters with references to Charles Perrault's The Fairies. It's about the two siblings' complicated dynamic and how every story has two sides. There's also a Sapphic love story involving one of the sisters.

The Sins on Their Bones by Laura R. Samotin: A dark and queer fantasy based on Jewish mythology. The last half of this book is so riveting and shocking. I truly had no idea what would be happening next.

Key Lime Sky by Al Hess: is a sci-fi romance about a non-binary character who witnesses an alien invasion. The main character is memorable and the plot is delightfully weird and fun. The romance is fantastic, with a seriously charming and funny meet-cute.

[iguanadonis]

my transmasc mechanic Loum from Rivets ⛓️🩶