#so I’m flying through graphic novels

[affixjoy]

I’m obsessed with this, it’s so good. “In the nook that’s made for hands” *chefs kiss*

From this book:

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

I honestly dislike the fact that within the Graphic Novels-

That Tamarin’s scars are COMPLETELY EARSED from her design.

Within the books, Tamarin is described to have multiple scars on her neck and wings and a big scar on her underbelly, due to the fact that she bumped and crashed into many objects around her while learning to navigate her environment with her disability.

But within the graphic novels, Tamarin has NONE of the scars that she has in the books within her GN design at all. Not even ONE.

Tamarin could’ve at least had her underbelly scar kept within her design, since that’s the biggest scar that she’s known to have, or at the very least kept one of the scars on Tamarin’s wings and/or neck within her design - since smaller scars within the series were STILL kept on certain characters’ designs, like Umber’s and Qibli’s scars. But they were NOT. The ENTIRETY of Tamarin’s scars in her design are REMOVED in the Graphic Novels, despite the fact Tamarin’s scars a rather IMPORTANT and/or MAJOR part of her design!

The ERASURE of Tamarin’s character’s scars is quite icky and bad thing to do, since it gets rid of the representation of scarred characters and/or people within media.

And that it’s even known to be possibly be done scarred characters within comics and movies due to the stigmatizing belief that scars are a “graphic”, “ugly”, “scary”, and/or “gross”, to have, which is quite icky and even ableist mindset to have towards scars and people who have them.

And it honestly quite upsets me that Tamarin scars are removed from her design in the GN, because doing this to a scarred character doesn’t just remove a part of their design - but also a part of their CHARACTER as well.

Because Tamarin’s scars (indirectly) show the struggles that she went through trying to navigate and live her life with her blindness. They show the hardships of what she went through and experienced with her disability. They indirectly show how she eventually grown from her experiences of her troubles and learned how to overcome them. So much so that she is able to teach a recently blinded dragon how to fly and navigate his surroundings while being disabled at the age of 3. Her physical scars - in some shape or way - represent her physical trauma, (past) struggles, growth, and Arc that she experienced throughout her life with her disability.

So the fact that the Graphic Novel Tamarin’s scars aren’t shown, despite the fact that’s they’re a rather important and/or major part of Tamarin’s design and character - honestly is something really irritates me.

Please note that while I am neurodivergent, I’m NOT physical disabled and/or severely scarred, so anyone who’s reading this IS physically disabled and/or severely scarred in any way, feel free to add your own input of this confession and/or state if there’s anything flawed, bad, and/or wrong about this confession in a hopefully civil and/or educational way. Thanks!

Anon sent in some proof, which will below the read more.

[fancoloredglasses]

[RERUN] Crisis on Infinite Earths, issue 11: “Aftershock” (Same great universe, now 80% smaller!)

[All images are owned by DC Comics, please don’t sue me]

PREVIOUSLY ON…

A being known as the Anti-Monitor has destroyed all but 5 of the universes in existence) with a single survivor on Earth-6 (Lady Quark) and Earth-Prime (Superboy) along for the ride)

Unfortunately, the process was unstable, meaning that time has merged (meaning mammoths and futuristic aliens are among modern skyscrapers) in the areas where the Earths are merged (which are called “Warp Zones”)

The Anti-Monitor’s last three attempts to destroy the multiverse have been thwarted (at the cost of many lives, including Supergirl and Earth-1’s Flash)

The Anti-Monitor’s fourth attempt brought the battle to the Dawn of Time, where the Anti-Monitor attempted to destroy the multiverse before it began, but his efforts were thwarted by the Spectre.

…or were they? As the pair fought for control, reality shattered around them and the assembled heroes!

Now, on with our story! If you would like to read this issue, it (along with the rest of the series) has been collected in graphic novel form and is available (or can be ordered) at your favorite comic shop, bookstore, or online retailer…or on Read Comic Online.

[WARNING: Things are gonna get a bit weirder and more confusing than they’ve been to this point (and that’s saying something!) Furthermore, the jokes could be a bit thin here. I’m not certain if you’ll call that a bad thing or not]

We open on Clark Kent (Kal-L) as he wakes up from a bizarre dream. His wife Lois obviously let him sleep in…and redecorated? He heads to his “day job” as managing editor of the Daily Star. He enters his office and is about to get to work…

…when Perry White barges in and demands to know who’s in his office. That’s when Kal-L noticed Perry’s name on the office door. In barges Clark Kent (Superman) who apologizes to Perry and introduces his “Uncle Clark” before escorting Kal-L from the building.

On the top of the Daily Planet, they guess that somehow after the Spectre’s fight with the Anti-Monitor, they both were transported to Earth-1. They fly to the warp zone in New York…

…only it’s not there. What’s more, no one remembers there ever being anything weird in the area (though they do remember Supergirl’s death).

They then fly to Central City, where the Flash (who is still considered “missing”, as no one was present for his sacrifice) stored his cosmic treadmill…

…only to see the twin cities of Central City (home to Earth-1′s Flash) and Keystone City (home to Earth-2′s Flash) Sure enough, Jay Garrick (Earth-2′s Flash) and his wife Joan greet the pair. Joan doesn’t remember what happened, but Jay does. They fetch Kid Flash and start the cosmic treadmill and break through the dimensional barrier

…to a void; Earth-2 isn’t there! What’s more, Kal-L feels the void calling to him, like he belongs there…though the Flash doesn’t feel the same call!

They return before Kal-L can run to the void, and everyone reaches the same conclusion: there is only one universe now, but obviously elements of the old realities are different from the new reality…and some elements never existed!

While the four contact as many heroes as they can find to discuss the ramifications, we switch to deep space. Rip Hunter’s time sphere (carrying Hunter, Adam Strange, Captain Comet, Dolphin, Atomic Knight, and Animal Man) encounter Brainiac’s ship adrift.

They board to investigate and discover the corpse (if a robot can have a corpse) of Brainiac.

Back on Earth, many of the heroes have gathered at Titan’s Tower, where they’re all checking each others’ math to make sure everyone has put two and two together. Huntress and Earth-2′s Robin explain that they, like Kal-L, don’t exist in this “new Earth”. Superboy-Prime is shocked when he finds out his Earth never existed either (that’s what happens when your universe was written in just so it could become a victim. Just ask Lady Quark)

Suddenly, Harbinger appears (having somehow regained her powers due to the new reality) and confirms this fact, and explains that some elements of each individual earths’ histories no longer existed (though reality seems to have conformed around Earth-1 primarily. I guess DC would have lost a lot of readers if it conformed around Earth-X), meaning only the modern versions of the “duplicate” heroes (like Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman) are part of this new reality, while heroes that share a name, but not a past (like Flash, Green Lantern, and Atom) exist alongside their younger counterparts. 

Kal-L flips out at this news, as it means that he will never see his wife Lois again.

As Kal-L flies off in a streak of self-pity, we switch to the Spirit Realm, where the Spectre lies unconscious, severely weakened by his battle with the Anti-Monitor (I’m sure this will be important later)

Back on Earth, the heroes continue to compare notes. It seems the villains don’t remember the multiverse (since they weren’t at the Dawn of Time), but it seems that Power Girl (Kal-L’s cousin) is remembered. No one is sure how that works.

Suddenly, the weather turns ugly, just as it did when a universe was about to–

Uh-oh…

Earth has been pulled into the Anti-Matter universe!

…dedulcnoc eb oT

[syaamethyst213]

I didn’t have time to color it and I’m leaving this morning and won’t have access to my ipad for two weeks, so here’s my contribution to Solarpunk Aesthetic Week!

the flying ships are based off of the graphic novel “On A Sunbeam” by Tillie Walden

[ID: three pictures, not colored in. The first is a woman sitting outside of a wooden building with plants hanging from the roof. She is wearing overalls made of various size patches and has designs painted in her arms and paint stains on her hands. She has near-shoulder length locs with mismatching beads in the ends. Second picture is a view of a city. The city is in a forest with mountains in the distance behind it. Buildings have vines on them as well as trees and waterfalls coming out of them. vehicles shaped roughly like fish swim through the sky. Third picture is a person reading a flyer from a board covered in flyers that is also built around a tree. the person’s hair falls over their face and they are wearing a jacket with spikes, a leaf symbol, and an anarchy symbol. They have baggy pants with holes in the knees. They have a mechanical arm with wires that connect to a pouch on their belt. end ID]

[yassifiedwelder]

I have been brainstorming soooo much for this #Spidersona thing I have been doing research and working out character arcs and designs and back stories with friends. I really want music to have a major roll in this. I’m thinking I could create a playlist and mess around with those Spotify codes to create a code in the book each person could scan and that song could play as they read through the next couple of panels.

I think I’m mainly posting about this to record it. I’ve never felt this was about a project or idea and I really think I could flush this out into something tangible. I technically have all of the knowledge and skill to work through this and create a physical copy of this graphic novel/idk “interactive” multimedia experience lmao.

Anywho, if anyone happens to see this please drop some songs/playlists for inspiration below. Go obscure, I’m talking like 3 weird recordings on YouTube from a German club obscure, but also I don’t mind the classics (I do plan to have a badass helicopter scene involving all of these mutant freedom fighters to #CCR .)

Here’s some songs I have ideas for rn

THESE ARE THE VIBESSS!

If anyone bothers to read this far hello! Welcome to this virtual project log. I have a tendency to ramble when I’m in a creative mood so after I have that time I like to sit back and reflect on what I’ve learned and write it all down and share it looking for comments questions and ideas. So I hope you like it!

The first video is the amount of pages so far, (the post right before this) I am planning on trying to digitize and rewrite the first “Issue” as a readable post on here so I’m gonna get started on that’s soon. I’m taking a lot of inspirations from Zine culture and alternative comics, body horror ideas from things like the Fly and Johnny the Homocidal maniac, all set to a soundtrack built off of the foundations of rock and the oddity’s of today. The color palate is as if the album cover for the Mountains Goats’ “Goths” came to life, with a formatting similar to one of my favorite books “My favorite thing is monsters” (look it uppppp)

Also, HEY MR. MOUSE! I’m not trying to make money off this, I’m just trying to make some fun art and share it with the world. BUT if you wanna use my characters,hmu (I am delusional) we can work out a deal, have your People call my people.

But that also goes to anyone else out there who wants to work together, my dms are open . . . (Mostly to bots rn)

OH Kay back to it . . . .

In the next pictures are some character designs that are very very very very much inspired by my friends. They’re strange enough that unless you know me by name then you would never get it Lmao . . . But the characters are kinda cool. I really tried to use actual habits and adaptations that these animals have in real life compared to how the human body would have to accommodate for its ability to defy nature. Planning for this to be kinda gory. I’m excited.

Also PSA I know I’m not an amazing artist, I’m going more for story and style over photo realism idk, this is just for my enjoyment, thank you for your time 💖💖💖 to help keep track I’m gonna tag all of these with #OnetaAquatica I’m excited to explore this story and world.

[semper-legens]

69. Tristan Strong Punches A Hole In The Sky, by Kwame Mbalia

Owned: No, library Page count: Unknown/not numbered My summary: Tristan Strong is going through it. He lost his friend, he lost his first boxing match, and he’s been sent to live with his strict grandparents in the middle of nowhere. So when a strange little creature sneaks into the window and steals the last thing he has to remember his friend by, he’s determined to get it back. Soon he finds himself drawn into a mystical world where myths are true and a deadly war is waging. But he can’t do anything to help...right? My rating: 3.5/5 My commentary:

This was another random impulse pull, albeit one that I totally would have picked up if it existed when I was a kid. It's published under Rick Riordan's label, and it lives up to the implicit promise of the Riordan name by being primarily based around folklore. In this case, African-American folklore - specifically stories about Anansi, John the Conqueror, the Flying Africans, the Gum Baby, and more. This is a graphic novel adaptation of the original book, which I have not read, so I'm going to judge it on its own merits rather than as an adaptation. And how does it fare? Pretty well, by my estimation!

Our hero, Tristan Strong, is eminently likeable. In the early pages, we learn that he's failing to live up to his family's expectations of becoming a boxer, and mourning the death of his friend Eddie, who was collecting folklore and mythology in a journal. Poor Tristan is hurting - he's full of survivor's guilt that makes him reluctant to engage with anything beyond finding the journal, which has been stolen by Gum Baby. (Who is, by the way, ridiculously likeable.) In trying to get it back, he releases a haint from a bottle tree, then falls into the world of Alke where these myths are true. Tristan's a very sympathetic hero. He's got that core of strength and resilience, but has realistic human flaws and failings. His reluctance to get involved and grief over his friends are very real emotions, and his arc from discouraged kid to hero is both engaging and satisfying. Tristan is an Ananseem, a storyteller who can affect reality with his words. Longtime readers of this blog will know that I just love stories about stories, and this one does not disappoint. It's particularly relevant given how African and African-American stories were forbidden by the white captors of enslaved people; Tristan is both connecting with his dead friend by telling the stories, and connecting with wider African-American culture.

Speaking of, the stories! The folklore used in this book will be familiar to anyone with a passing knowledge of African-American myth and legend - Brer Fox, Anansi, Gum Baby, haints - with some new additions to build the world of Alke. These include the Fetterlings, living chains that attempt to capture the heroes, brand flies, which burn those around them, and Uncle Cotton, who leads the Bone Ships. Yeah, this isn't exactly subtle, but I don't think it's to the story's detriment. After all, it's aimed at younger readers, and it still makes the point well enough. The horrors that enslaved people experienced are memorialised as much as the gods and heroes of their culture; both sides of the experience are represented here.

My only real criticism of this one is that the pacing felt a bit too fast in most places - the narrative didn't really have a lot of room to breathe. I wonder, though, if that's a result of the adaptation more than a fault of the original. Graphic novels have fewer pages to work with, after all. The art, however, was stunning, a realistic style that reminded me of modern superhero comics while still being able to carry the more fantastical or emotional beats. It's a good little read! I might see if I can track down the original at some point, just to compare.

Next up, back into history, and to my historical problematic fave Charles I.

[darkfeath3r]

Lore Studies: Corgis, a Fairy's Favorite Steed

They're cute. They're stubby. They're herding dogs full of energy and personality. And they were the steeds of fairies, allegedly. They're Pembroke Welsh Corgis, not to be confused with Cardigan Welsh Corgis.

Allegedly, according to Welsh legend, fairies cannot fly long distances. They created Corgis to ride or pull their sleds. Only the pure of heart can see the reins and the saddles attached to Corgis. If a Corgi were too aggressive or rambunctious, you could give the Corgi an iron collar to make it more docile as fairy creatures are weak to iron.

There are a few variations of the myth of how humans gained Corgis. One story claims that the king and queen of the fairies were riding the countryside. In another version, it's the queen and her advisor. The king fell off his steed, and the queen jumped off hers to rescue him. The Corgis ran into a village and started playing with the humans there. The king and queen decided to let the dogs stay there once they saw how much joy the dogs brought the impoverished families. So all Corgis are descendants of these royal steeds.

Another version claims that the two children of a shepherd accidentally interrupted a funeral for two fairy warriors. The warriors lost their lives in a battle between Tywyth Teg and the Gwyllion tribes. Their Corgi steeds were now riderless. The surviving fairies decided the Corgis should go with the children and help them with their household tasks. In this version, Corgis descended from warriors.

Unfortunately, I could not find a reliable source that verifies if these stories are actual Wales legends. I'm not going to claim it is a real myth, but I think it would be really cool and cute if it were an authentic Welsh myth. I would love to see more media with Corgis as fairy steeds. Currently, there is a children's fantasy novel called The Corgi Chronicles by Laura Madsen and a children's graphic novel called Korgi by Christian Slade that are about Corgi steeds. Ein from Cowboy Bebop isn't a fairy steed, but I wanted to point him out because Cowboy Bebop is a good show and Ein is a good boy. If you know any shows, movies, books, or any other media with fairy Corgis, please leave a comment about it.

Sources

Hausman, Gerald, and Loretta Hausman. The Mythology of Dogs: Canine Fables, Legend, and Lore through the Ages. St. Martin's Press, 1997.

Jan Tanna, et al. "Mythical Connection Between Corgis and Fairies." Dog Trophy, 18 Feb. 2020, www.dogtrophy.com/2018/04/24/mythical-connection-corgis-and-fairies/.

Kriss, Randa. "Pembroke Welsh Corgis: 7 Fun Facts About the Dog Breed." American Kennel Club, American Kennel Club, 26 Apr. 2019, www.akc.org/expert-advice/lifestyle/fun-facts-about-the-pembroke-welsh-corgi/.

Moore, Ronna. "Fairies, Corgis, and Their Ancient Bond." Fairy Homes and Gardens, Feb. 2018, www.fairyhomesandgardens.com/blog/fairies-corgis-and-their-ancient-bond/.

[talenlee]

Story Pile: 16 Bit Sensation (And Another Layer I Guess)

Ah, Talen month, Talen month! A month where I celebrate media I love, or maybe media I really want to talk about. Media I want to talk about possibly because I think it’s a topic I would normally find too mean, or too cruel to focus on. After all who wants to hear me vent or complain or just drag something for being mediocre.

I do!

It’s Talen Month, and this time around I’m going to do something different in that I’m going to talk about something amazing, something I love, a manga that I think is genuinely, wholeheartedly excellent that you can blitz through in an afternoon, and also, uh, the anime spinoff of it that serves in my mind as one of the examples of how 2023 just was a mid freaking year for anime. I want to talk to you about one of my favourite genres of media, ‘people making things from an insider perspective, with a dash of economic structures,’ and then one of my least favourites, ‘spinoff that is embarrassed to be associated with a much, much better piece of media.’

Up front before I dive in, I’m going to talk about both the manga 16 Bit Sensation and I’m also going to talk about the anime with a similar name, 16 Bit Sensation: Another Layer. I’m going to spoil details about the storyline of Another Layer, which I don’t think should be a problem because I don’t think it’s any good and it’s not like spoiling it would be in any way a diminishment of your enjoyment of it.

Because I don’t find it very enjoyable.

16 Bit Sensation is a doujinshi that became a real proper published manga, produced by Misato Mitsumi, Tatsuki Amazuyu, and Tamiki Wakaki. It follows the story of Meiko, who goes from a retail job at a rental store to a job assisting illustration to a job doing original illustration and character design and programming for a company called Alcohol Soft, starting in 1993 and running till the late 90s. The manga follows a person who goes from having no access to computers to the stage where she’s buying her own home PC, when that kind of investment was a huge chunk of money spent on a domestic purchase.

Along the way you have a story that shows things like tiny companies restructuring and growing, the way that people’s skills built on one another, and the way that videogames in the 1990s were full of massive, immense technical shifts for the better — like, do you know how many images got made for distributing on screens with only sixteen colours? — and how these shifts didn’t come with immediate access. Like, sure, you get 240 more colours, but now you have to be able to use them, and you need to get familiar with the technology that lets you do it.

In the process you get to see different conversations about what the kinds of games they’re making include, who they are for, and how disconnected pieces can be. A writer generates a script, a programmer makes code, and illustrators make graphics that are to be displayed as part of that script. But those people don’t need to know exactly what’s going on one to another, and sometimes, they can be completely isolated from one another. As the production gets bigger, as the needs for the content of the game gets deeper, they add more people to the creative staff. A writer can strike out entirely on their own and outsource the art. Companies can split and collapse together and it’s entirely possible that just one person’s bad decisions can catastrophically mess with your finances, because this is an industry that was flying without much of a support structure.

Because they were making pornography.

There’s a puritanical attempt to neglect that visual novels, the material that carried the personal gaming landscape on its shoulders through the 90s, was largely pornographic. Anime spinoffs of these games often relied on not mentioning or including the pornography, because, well, you know, this is so good, it’s good even without the pornography! It’s embarrassing, it’s shameful to engage with and do anything with that —

I mean heaven forfend people recognise how much we like, share, and engage with horny media.

16 Bit Sensation: Another Layer is an anime, set in the existing story of 16 Bit Sensation. It follows the story of Konoha Akisato, an illustrator working for a small company that makes eroge in the current 2020s. Distressed by her company’s unwillingness to make her dream games a reality, she accidentallies a time travel plot device and gets thrown back in time to the glory days of 1990s pixel art visual novels. She jumps back and forth between history and the now, seeing how changes she made to the past impact her now.

And look.

Artists have gotten better since then. For example, even a child artist from now, thrown back to 1993, would, with the modern tools we have, be absolutely amazing to the ability of artists back then. Certainly for drawing cute girls in the anime style. Technique and skill have broadened, tools are more available, and people have more ways and tools to practice. I am a firm believer that people are, generally, getting better at niche skills. I have no doubt that Konoha, who is a whole ass adult, could blow people’s minds with the skills she has now, if she could find a way to share them.

Anyway, the anime then follows a sequence of these time hops back and forth that include a boy from that story jumping further back in time to work on a videogame back in the 1980s, and seeing how complicated that process was, and all in the service of uh

uh

the time travelling alien AI art consciousness, that wants to make good? art? By dissolving things in chemicals.

Eventually Konoha’s machinations create a game so good it ruins the visual novel genre, transports it to America, where it starts to look like a different thing, and then in the process kills the videogame and anime industry in Japan, ignoring the way that that also happened in our own history, and part of what helped the industry hold on was the prevalence of niche Japanese media and oh no I am getting angry about this all over again. Ahem. Let me start that again:

The culmination of 16 Bit Sensation: Another Layer is that Konoha travels to a dystopian future. There, Fate looks ugly, because Americans made it, and she hates how the world she crafted through her amazing bishoujou game has the unintended consequence of making videogames, uh, American. She resolves to fix this by going back in time and making another game just as good as the first one, thanks to the power of generative AI tools like Midjourney and ChatGPT and good god I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she’s interrupted and kidnapped in the middle of this process, eventually fleeing from her captors who want to stick her – and other artists – into VR tanks so they can harvest their art. Note that this isn’t seen as being bad for artists, it’s seen as being unfair because it means that whoever has the most money can make the best games.

Then a UFO shows up and sorts the plot out.

I’m not joking.

Or exaggerating.

Cards on the table, if it wasn’t obvious already, I think 16 Bit Sensation is a really interesting manga that I liked a lot. I think 16 Bit Sensation: Another Layer if it was an entirely unique anime would merely be a traditionally mid anime that used an interesting idea as wallpaper to colour a story that was otherwise about something else, clueless about the detail it claimed to be about. The wild disparity between these two does not necessarily mean that 16 Bit Sensation: Another Layer diminishes 16 Bit Sensation in any way. It’s not like a mediocre story set in another more interesting story actually hurts it. What I think makes Another Layer feel so awful to me is the way that it ostensibly strives to be about something in the same way 16 Bit Sensation is, and in the process presents a description of those things that doesn’t understand them at all.

And thing is, that talk about ‘not diminishing’ is – well, it’s just a lie. See, part of the problem is that Another Layer really is diminishing 16 Bit Sensation. If you go check the wikipedia page for 16 Bit Sensation, despite describing the series as the result of a manga that was originally a dojinshi, it introduces the characters by focusing on Konoha, and describing them in terms of their place in the anime. This means that Meiko, the protagonist of the manga, is not mentioned as such, and is mentioned as the fourth character. In the anime, she barely gets lines, which you might imagine is fine because she gets all her dialogue in the manga. But if you liked that manga because of her story, you won’t see it in Another Layer because Another Layer isn’t about that manga.

It’s about not wanting to talk about that manga.

Fundamentally, 16 Bit Sensation is a doujin media that told a story of a really interesting period of the mid-90s about a type of technology and its limitations. It’s about how small businesses with low overheads in an under-regulated environment created remarkable media with a specific kind of technology. The story in the manga puts the technology, the people, and the games front and centre. The way that the media is literally stigmatised and yet also lucrative is presented as a serious part of the story. There’s a serious consideration about what it means to have a young child working even adjacent to it. To simplify it, 16 Bit Sensation is about a thing that happened that you probably don’t understand, and telling its story is both interesting and meaningful. It’s about the history of a type of porn entertainment media.

Another Layer takes this period of history and sanitises every surface. It takes the women who were there, and disappears their story under the story of a modern, current person who disdains the art form they worked on. It is a story ostensibly about a woman who buys and loves h-games who has no opinion or interest in the actual content of that media. It doesn’t want to talk about the limitations of that technology, or the ways people solved problems, and instead makes do by inventing a fantasy of ‘what if you could just make the industry different by wanting it more.’

More than anything else it wants to be about a world-changing game that it literally cannot meaningfully describe or engage with because this anime ostensibly about a game doesn’t know how it could possibly represent a game that good, and the obvious reason why it can’t is because no such thing could exist and the idea that it could comes from the same writing school as ‘with a jump, Jack was free.’ Another Layer introduces ideas that imply it wants to talk about the history of pornographic art in Japan, automation and generative art and bad labor conditions in artistic industries, and then decides to solve all those problems it grotesquely fails to understand with fucking aliens.

I hate Another Layer. I hate the show built out of 16 Bit Sensation. I don’t hate it for what it wants to be, I hate that it’s attached to 16 Bit Sensation. I hate that someone read that manga and thought: You know what this needs? More focus on this boy who we can build up to being the worst kind of gatekeeping nerd. Less focus on why people got into this industry and how they relate to the art of it, more focus on the imagined aesthetics of what these things could hypothetically be about as long as you definitely, definitely don’t look at them.

Another Layer takes an important part of the pornographic history of a vitally important medium and uses it to say nothing. It is about pornography without ever wanting to say the word. It takes an interesting story that manages to circumvent vulgarity, and cannot imagine finding it interesting just telling its story.

It’s like its own Mormon scripture.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #28: Marvel Graphic Novel issue 4

I've read a lot of New Mutants, but not nearly as much as X-Men, and this'll be my first time reading the whole series straight through, so I'm very excited. It also means that unlike with X-Men, where I've read every issue I cover many times, I'm not super familiar with the full trajectory of all the stories and character arcs in this series, especially in the early issues, so it'll be a different kind of blogging experience for me. But I love these characters and I'm excited for the chance to delve more into their lives and history. It starts with this Marvel Graphic Novel. That was a series Jim Shooter tried pushing in the eighties to expand the Marvel business model beyond just the monthly ongoings. The fourth one was the debut of the New Mutants, by Claremont with Bob McLeod on art. Jumping right in, the first new character we meet is Rahne Sinclair/Wolfsbane, a child in Moira's area of Scotland whose ability to turn into a wolf has just manifested, leading her to being hunted through the moors by a religious mob. I don't know if this was intentional or not, but that's also how Giant-Size X-Men started. She's shot and falls unconscious at the feet of Moira, who takes her in. In Brazil, another teenager, Roberto da Costa/Sunspot, is playing in a soccer match. He's biracial, and the opposing players use it as an excuse to bully him into a fight on the field, when his power, glowing with energy and getting super strength, manifests, causing a panic among the spectators. In Kentucky, Sam Guthrie/Cannonball is starting his first shift in a coal mine. His father died of black lung, so he's given up his scholarship hopes to work to feed his mother and young siblings. When there's a cave-in, he discovers his own power to fly like a cannonball, impervious to damage while smashing everything he hits. In Colorado, Dani Moonstar/Psyche already knows of her powers: she has various psychic abilities, which so far she uses mainly to forge emotional rapports with animals like her pet mountain lion Ridge-Runner. Her grandfather tells her he's sending her to live with her late father's army buddy Xavier, who can teach her about her abilities. Dani doesn't want to live with a white man, and in her anger accidentally summons a vision of her grandfather being beaten to death before sadly accepting his orders. Late that night, she realizes she pulled the image from her grandfather's own fears when she finds him dead. We learn that this was the work of Donald Pierce of the Hellfire Club, who plans to use these mutants to kill Shaw and take over, restoring the Club to human control. At the mansion, Xavier introduces the newly arrived Moira and Rahne to Xi'an Coy Mahn/Karma. She actually already appeared in a Marvel Team-Up story by Claremont, but he treats this as a fresh introduction for the character. She and her three siblings immigrated from Vietnam when their parents died, and she and her twin brother had the same power- possession. She was forced to kill him when he went evil, and now she looks after her younger siblings. Xavier is sti mourning the X-Men, but Moira convinces him the dream shouldn't die with them, and he decides to reopen the school. He takes his two new students to find Dani, who's under attack from Pierce's minions. They killed her grandfather and now her cat, but the Xavier folks save her and discover their plan. Dani agrees to go with them to get to Pierce, who she wants to kill. She goes with Moira and Xi'an to Brazil, where Roberto and his girlfriend Juliana are being held captive by Pierce's cyborg minions. Roberto tries to fight back, but he's overpowered. Dani and Xi'an come to the rescue, and they take out the cyborgs, but not before Juliana is shot shielding Roberto from their bullets. Now seeking the same vengeance as Dani, Berto joins them in their mission. Meanwhile, Sam, who's been working for Pierce unaware of his plans, helps him kidnap Xavier, though Rahne escapes and tracks them back to their base. Side note- in this early art style Rahne's half-transitioned werewolf mode is like a terrifying Cats reject. She's trying to come up with a plan when she gets a psychic call from Dani, who's able to form a telepathic rapport with her wolf form. They all team up and attack, and kinda get obliterated by Pierce's forces. This is something I really like about early New Mutants stories; they struggle a lot with what the X-Men would consider low level threats, which is different than a lot of teen heroes who are miraculously competent. When Pierce tells Sam to kill the others, he defects, giving the team enough time to free Xavier, who uses his powers to end the battle. Berto and Dani both choose mercy over revenge, and Pierce is taken into custody by Tessa, Shaw's assistant who he had imprisoned. The team, along with Sam, go back to the mansion, where Xavier begins their training.

Claremont didn't want to write any spinoffs in the first place, but X-Men was doing so well that Jim Shooter told him he could write it or someone else would. Honestly, it came at a really good time, because Claremont's plot thread count is getting out of control. He set up Project Wideawake almost two years ago and has barely touched it since. That storyline, along with Illyana and Magneto's arcs, will move over to the new book, freeing up Uncanny to focus on the core cast. More importantly, though, a brand new book means Claremont gets to build the cast and history from the ground up. Obviously I'll have more to say as the series goes on, but there's already a lot to go through with the character work in this issue. The first one we meet is Rahne, who unless you count Caliban is the first mutant in the series who wishes she weren't. She's sort of like Kurt if he believed the things people said about him; she sees her power as a gift from Satan and is filled with guilt just for existing. Her power is a reflection of that fear, since she literally turns into a beast. Berto is my favorite of this bunch, and represents a trend that'll become more and more prominent in coming years: the intersection of mutant persecution and real-world persecution. Berto isn't just hated for being a mutant, he also experiences racism for being black. He's also incredibly powerful but a glass cannon, which reflects his passion and temper but also his sensitivity. That also means that as the only South American person on the team, he's pretty much a walking stereotype, but he'll get a lot of development over the series and in the future that makes him much deeper than that. Sam, on the other hand, is completely invincible while using his power, but has trouble controlling it. He had to grow up too fast to take care of his siblings, and he'll gladly throw himself headfirst into any situation to protect them or anyone else, while never uttering a complaint about how it hurts him. His power is on a symbolic level similar to Scott's; Sam keeps everything bottled up for the sake of his family, but when he lets loose it's hard to control. But like Scott, when he learns to open up, he'll be a great leader. Dani is the closest thing to a main character that this ensemble will have for the first few years. Like Berto, she's filled with anger and grief. Her main power, giving people visions of their fears, is a way of trying to reflect her fear and pain back on the world that hurts her. She's also the only character who has no family left beyond the team. Even Rahne has a new family in Moira, but Dani already lost her parents and just lost her grandfather and her cat. Those losses weigh heavily on her, and I see her power as a way she pushes people away out of fear of more loss. Finally, we have Xi'an. Her power is the least metaphorical but provokes the most self analysis. She's been powerless her whole life, thrown around by horrible circumstances, but with her power she could control anyone. She struggles with where to draw the line, wanting to use her power for good but not wanting to become a monster like her brother did. This issue was a really solid start to the team, and I can't wait to see where they go next.

[horsesandhockeyplayers]

When Life Gives You Lemons- Part 14

Warnings: Mature content, abuse, rape, eating disorders, OCD  etc. Some of these things go into a bit of detail.  These warnings are  relevant to the whole fic, not just particular  chapters.

Word Count Chapter: 4500

Word Count Total: 62,779

Author’s Note:  Huge shoutout to @newlibrary​ for the graphics and @hockeylvr59​ for the editing reads.

Barbs and Lemon are back by popular demand! Reminder, that this fic  starts during the summer of 2019. I   will be tagging the Avs and  Lausanne HC. Also *~*~*~*~* means a POV   change. Flipping between Mark  and Clementine. This part begins with  Clementine. THERE BE SMUT.

Part Fourteen*

My stomach swooped like I was on a roller coaster, and I knew I’d forever remember this moment as the one when I fell in love with Mark Barberio, or at least one of them. There seemed to be many moments when I fell a little more in love with him.

I kissed the underside of his chin as I murmured, “You’re so full of it.”

He wrapped me up in his arms again, hugged me to his chest and shifted his hips as he replied, “I’m full of something, and I’m gonna have to go take care of it in a minute.”

Bracing a hand on his chest, I sat up. How he could toe the line between being romantic one minute and entirely asinine the next I might never know, but, much to my great dismay, it was incredibly endearing and I felt my heart squeeze in my chest. My hair fell in a curtain around me as I scooted back onto his thighs and I tilted my chin in the direction of his crotch as I whispered, “Can I?”

His grin was impossibly wide as he chuckled and informed me, “Lemon, for the record you never have to ask a dude if you can touch his junk.”

I hid behind my hair, faltering as I offered, “Ok, I just…”

I trailed off, because how to do you tell someone you’re about to be intimate with that indescribable trauma happened to you and you don’t actually KNOW what to do with a dick since you’ve never had a healthy sexual relationship before? I wasn’t exactly sure, hence why I grew quiet.

Mark settled his hands behind his head— which just accentuated his arms and chest, and I realized that it was really unfair that there are men who looked like this in real life and not just on romance novel covers and I was still halfway shocked that I was curled up on the couch with one of said men— as he responded evenly, “Lemon, just do what you want. It’s ok, I promise.  If I don’t like something I’ll tell you.”

“But I don’t want to do something you don’t like,” I bit my lip after answering. Perfection wasn’t a suggestion with Bill and I hated that I kept comparing them together because Mark was kind and wonderful and Bill was a shitstain on humanity. 

“Babe,” he countered, “I do shit you don’t like all the time. But I stop and let you adjust or call me an idiot or we talk about it. That’s how you ended up on top, remember?”

I nodded and scooted back a little farther down his thighs, trying to sit on my heels instead of his knees. He had tucked his erection under the waistband of his underwear and jeans, leaving the head of his cock sticking out; without thinking, I reached out and, with the tip of my finger, smeared around the precum that had gathered there

His breath hitched, and I heard him hiss through his teeth. He unclenched his hands from behind his head, moving them to grip the arm of the couch instead. I bit my lip, palming him through his jeans and then tentatively, unbuttoned his fly. As I slid his zipper down, I took a moment to appreciate how he was straining against his boxer briefs.

I dipped my hand under the waistband of his shorts and when I wrapped my hand around the base of his dick, his hips jerked and he swallowed a moan. The way his body responded to me made me feel a little dizzy with power; the novelty that I caused him to react that way and that I was calling the shots here was almost too much to bear, but I knew one thing for sure: it was incredibly hot and I kind of loved it. With my free hand, I shoved his underwear down and freed him completely, letting my fingertips trail up his length. His dick jumped into my hand and I enjoyed feeling him, enjoyed the velvety feel of his skin over the hardness of his erection. When I risked a glance up at him, he had sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and his eyes were intense, and laser focused on me. “Is this ok?” He nodded vigorously.

I watched him react as I stroked him, never having the opportunity to explore someone so thoroughly. Precum was dripping onto his stomach and I swiped it up with my finger and licked it off, rolling the bitter taste over my tongue. Mark’s breath hitched again and his dick twitched in my hand.

This time when he exhaled, there was a distinctive “fuck,” muttered under his breath.  Watching him straining, gripping the arm of the couch so hard I thought there would be permanent divots in the leather, I realized he was doing his best to give this completely unpressured experience to me, and as hot as this moment was already, the fact that he could be so unselfish in it, despite everything, only endeared him to me more. 

I rubbed my thumb over the head of his cock, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench as I spread around some more of the precum that was leaking out.

“Lemon,” he choked out, “Spit in your hand.”

“What?” I asked. His words broke my trance, and even though I understood what he was saying, it took a moment for me to process the suggestion.

“Spit. In. Your. Hand,” he panted.

I did my best to gather enough saliva in my mouth before I did what he asked. The lubrication changed the texture of his skin, and he went from velvet to silk. I loved the feel of him against my hand, the easy slide of him across my palm almost hypnotic. As I stroked him, I felt him get impossibly harder.

He was trying to control the movement of his hips, but they kept jumping up underneath me, shoving the length of him through my fist completely. 

He wasn’t completely shaven, but he was trimmed and I moved my other hand to palm his scrotum, rolling his testicles in my hand. I heard him curse softly as I teased them, felt them tighten as jet of cum landed on his stomach and he groaned, “Fuck. Don’t stop.”

I had indeed stopped what I was doing to watch the cum jet out of him, but with his encouragement, I started again, stroking him through each spurt and firmly holding his balls in my other hand. 

FInally, he was done and he reached down and grabbed my wrists in his hands as he conceded, “Okay, now you can stop. Too much.”

He flopped back, sinking into the couch as he let my wrists go and with his eyes closed he rasped, “Holy shit, Lemon, that was… hot.”

It was hot and now that I wasn’t transfixed by his genitals, I was able to sit back on my heels and just look at him: his hair was disheveled from my fingers carding through it and the cross on the silver chain was resting against his chest, carving a shimmering path through all of the muscles there. I took that moment to appreciate that there were so many muscles. Even if I worked out just as much as he did, I still probably wouldn’t have half the amount of muscles— which I personally thought was unfair.

HIs abs were splattered with his cum and I gave in to the urge to reach down and trail my index finger through the milky fluid, pushing it through the valley of his abdominals. When I risked a glance at his face, he had one eye open and he was watching me carefully, his rakish eyebrow raised. “You’ve never gotten the opportunity to just enjoy someone’s body, have you?” he asked. 

Shaking my head, I impulsively licked the cum off my finger.

He grabbed his shirt off the floor and wiped his stomach off before he sat up. When we were facing each other again, his hand went to the back of my head and he pulled me down for a kiss, his tongue invading my mouth almost like he was trying to lick his own cum out of it.

When he finally pulled away, I had to touch my lips to make sure they were still there. “Come on, Lemon,” he prompted, picking me up and setting me on my feet next to the couch. He made it seem so easy, even though I knew there was no way it was. He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the bedroom, trying to hold his jeans up with his free hand. He ended up kicking them off in the hallway.

Once we were through the door, he pulled me forward and spun me around like we were dancing, his bed hitting the back of my knees and I fell backward onto it. I had been dreading this moment and I shut my eyes, bracing for the moment of panic I knew I would feel when he fell on top of me.

When his weight didn’t hit me right away, I opened an eye to catch him falling to his knees. He had disposed of his boxer briefs and tossed them with his shirt into a pile and I realized he had gotten fucking naked and I had missed the show.

Propping myself up on my elbows, I asked, “Barbs? What are you doing?”

He reached up to hook his fingers into the waistband of my leggings and stripped them off with my underwear in one smooth pull, throwing them in the same pile as his clothes. “I should think that is obvious,” he whispered into the skin of my thigh.

“It’s… not?”

He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and grabbed me gently, dragging my body toward him until I was almost hanging off the bed. He arched a brow, like that was supposed to give me a clue and I shrugged, clueless. I was still unsure as to what was happening, but I wasn’t uneasy about it, which was a miracle in and of itself. 

He walked closer to me on his knees as he instructed, “Arms up.”

I lifted my arms, more as a reflex than anything, and when I settled back on my elbows, I was naked. It was the first time I had been naked with a man since my marriage, and I fought the urge to cover myself. Mark sat back on his heels for a moment and I could feel his gaze traveling up and down my body. When he spoke, his voice was so soft that I barely heard him murmur, “You are breathtaking.”

I looked down, half concerned that my body had been replaced by body snatchers. But, all I saw was the same old body I saw every day: one with a faint map of stretch marks from gaining weight too fast; battle scars, that were both literal and figurative, from fighting my marriage and myself; a smattering of cellulite, weird tan lines and broken capillaries; and assorted other imperfections that seemed to be emphasized in this moment of vulnerability. Before I could voice any of this, Mark slid his hands from my ankles to my knees and twisted them to skirt along the inside of my thighs. He ran them upwards until his thumbs found the crease along my vaginal lips, which proved to be sufficiently distracting and quieted the self-doubt racing through my brain.

When he pulled my folds apart and blew on my clit, I fell back onto the bed, a whimpered “fuck,” escaping my throat. I felt the smile on his lips as he pressed them to me and licked the length of my pussy.

I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to watch him or just lay back and enjoy the sensations. He explored me with his tongue, his fingers spreading me apart as he licked around my pussy. When he closed his lips over my clit and sucked, my hips arched into his face, and when he slid a thick finger into me, I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

My orgasm hit me like a tsunami; the sensation started to rise, and suddenly I was drowning, my hips bucking wildly into his face. I swear Mark growled when he locked his free arm over my pelvis to hold me in place as he sucked my clit and finger fucked me through my orgasm. As I was coming down, he slid a second finger in with the first and the stretch caused a mini orgasm on the heels of the first. With a flat-tongued lick, he detached from my “pleasure nub,” and I suddenly understood why terrible romance novelists called it such.

He continued to slide his fingers in and out of me, leaving trails of wet opened mouth kisses along my thighs until I relaxed completely, the occasional tremor shaking my body. 

When he slipped his fingers out of me, he sucked them into his mouth to clean them off before crawling over me and resting against the pillows; once situated, he hauled me up his body and arranged me half on top of him, his dick resting along my thigh.

With our naked bodies like this, it painted a stark picture of how different we were. HIs body was thick and toned. I don’t think he had one tiny cell of fat on him and his skin was a dark olive after having been in the sun all summer. I, on the other hand, looked like poorly proven sourdough bread that Paul Hollywood would have been ashamed of… with blue hair.

I felt Mark take a breath below my ear as he whispered in it, “Was that ok? I don’t want to brag, but I have been told I’m pretty good at that.”

I stretched my jaw a bit, willing the muscles to work since all of them felt like they had the integrity of wet cardboard. “I don’t have anything to compare it to,” I ventured, “So you could be the absolute worst in the world, but if that’s the worst, then the best might kill me.”

He went completely still beneath me as he processed my response, taking a moment before he responded, “What do you mean you don’t have anything to compare it to?”

I set my chin on his chest and looked up at him as I clarified, “I’ve never experienced that before?”

He looked a little shocked, and rubbed the hand that wasn’t cradling my ass down his beard as he thought that over. “Never tell Landy this,” he murmured, “but I’m actually at a loss for words.”

I shrugged. “Honestly,” I admitted, “If getting that as my first time meant I didn’t get it other times, I think I’m ok with that.” Mark smiled down at me and I returned the smile before I schooled my face into a more stern expression and continued, “Also, please don’t even mention Landy again while we’re naked, in bed together, or naked in bed together. ”

Mark’s face softened and he kissed the top of my head, chuckling lightly and he concluded, “Well, Lemon, I was glad to give it to you.”

His cock was still hard against my hip, and I ran a finger up the length of him as I began, “You’re still..”

“Mmmhmm.” I felt his chest rumble as he responded.

I looked at him inquisitively, “can I?”

He just looked amused as he answered, “Babe, if it involves you and my dick, I’m going to have very few restrictions.”

I bit my lip and straddled his thighs again, mimicking our position on the couch earlier.

“Do you have… you know?” I hoped he would know.

Mark’s face was caught up in a grin as he answered the question I couldn’t finish, nodding as he informed me, “your inability to finish sentences when referring to anything about sex is adorable.” His long arm reached up and he somehow dug a condom out of the drawer of his nightstand and tossed it near my knee. “Knock yourself out, babe.”

Suddenly faced with a hard dick, a man with his hands folded behind his head, and a condom, I didn’t know what to do or where to start. I looked up at him for guidance and he just shook his head as he told me, “This is your show, Lemon. No judgment.”

I bit my lip and traced the outline of his testicles in his scrotum, fascinated when the skin drew up tight in response to the stimulation. Mark sucked in a sharp breath but didn’t react otherwise. I was nervous all of a sudden and the moment felt charged, in a different way than it had earlier; some of the urgency was gone, and we had all the time in the world, which meant there was plenty of time for me to prove I had absolutely no idea what I was doing and make a fool of myself. I didn’t want to throw all of that at him right now so I just said simply, “You have to tell me what you like.”

“Clementine, you are naked, on top of me, playing with my junk… I like all of this.” He made no effort to hide his amusement. 

I wrapped my hand around his balls and rolled them between my fingers, causing another sharp inhale from Mark and and an exhaled “fuck.”

His dick twitched against his stomach, the tip leaking clear fluid onto his skin. Letting go of him, I scooped it up with a finger and sucked it off. 

His big body squirmed beneath me as he groaned, “Fuck, you are killing me, do you know that?”

Comments like that filled me with confidence and made it easy for me to toss aside all of my hesitation and it occurred to me I should thank him for that later. Feeling reinvigorated and embracing my newly-found inclination for power, I teased him, “You taste good. I didn’t know you could taste good.” I may or may not have made a show of licking my lips to prove my point.

He threw his head back and moaned.

I ripped the condom wrapper with my teeth, gripping his length in one hand and rolling the condom down it with the other. I let him slap back against his stomach and he twitched again as he cursed, “Damnit, Lemon.”

I gave him a sickly sweet smile. Had he not looked so incredibly good imbued with such a level of desperation, this wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun as it was.

“Oh, she’s playing now,” he chirped at me, before looking at me dead in the eyes and stating, “If you had a different past, this would be going way differently.”

 I moved forward, feeling the length of him settle between my pussy lips and I rolled my hips, the friction so good that I swear I could feel it in every inch of my body. The crown of his head dragged against my clit and I moaned as I asked him, “What would you do differently, Barbs?”

As I slid along the length of him again, coating him in copious amounts of my wetness, he hissed, choking out, “We wouldn’t have made it this far; for one, because I would have fucked you over the back of the couch.”

“Oh?” I quipped. I honestly didn’t know being this turned on was even possible and my hands went to my breasts of their own accord, holding them in my hands and rolling both nipples between my fingers.

Mark slammed his head back into the pillows, eyes screwed shut, as he took a deep breath and rasped, “Fuck babe, this is better than literally every fantasy I’ve ever had about you.”

“Really?” I breathed, rocking against him, enjoying hearing him say it. “I’m not really even doing anything…” As the pleasure coursed through my body, I could hear my voice falter and I was pretty sure that Mark was almost at a breaking point, if the tremor I could feel in his thighs underneath me was any indication.

“Really,” he confirmed, as I kept up my steady grind against him, his breath shallow as he continued, “What you’re doing is…..so fucking hot…” I felt him twitch against me as he confessed, “The only thing that could possibly make this better would be if I was inside of you.”

I raised up off of him and the action caused him to open one eye. Reaching between us, I angled his cock just right and started to sink down on it, pausing every few millimeters. Mark arched a brow at me as he watched, admitting, “Lemon, if you want me to beg for it, all you have to do is ask. But since you haven’t, I gotta know, are you trying to kill me?”

I shook my head, realizing that we were on two separate pages regarding my slow pace. “No,” I told him, “I’m just waiting for it to hurt.”

Mark looked at me pointedly and sat up, his arm sliding behind my thighs to prevent me from sliding down on him any farther. “Okay,” he began, “First of all, I think we need a rule: we don’t talk about previous experiences while we’re having NEW ones. Second of all, sex shouldn’t hurt EVER. I mean, unless it’s on purpose and you’re into that kind of thing. If you’re not into that, then it should never hurt. Do you understand me, Clementine?” His voice was firm and once again I had the feeling I may have trivialized something that wasn’t really trivial. 

I nodded because I couldn’t do anything else. 

He pulled me off of his cock and slid us both up the bed until his torso was resting against the headboard. 

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Mark smiled at me ruefully, bringing his lips to my neck as he whispered into my hair, “I thought I just needed to let you figure things out for yourself, but it has become glaringly obvious I need to be an active participant.”

My voice was soft as I responded, half scared and half confused, “I don’t know what you mean.”

We were still pressed closely together, and his hands trailed over my naked body, fingers teasing my nipples, as he directed me, “Kiss me, Lemon.”

I leaned forward and he moved his hands to knot in my hair, my breasts pressed against the hair on his chest as I kissed him. I kissed him deeply, trying to convey with my tongue just how much this all meant to me. 

As we kissed, one of his hands slid between our bodies, his fingers slipping between my pussy lips and softly rubbing my clit. I may have mewled into his mouth, but I’d perjure myself in a court of law denying that. 

While I was rocking into his hand, he grabbed his dick and angled it just right so that the tip slid into me as I rolled my hips. The sensation made me gasp, and I rocked harder, needing more.

“That’s it, babe,” he murmured, “That’s it.” His hands were on my hips, guiding me. I curled my hands into fists on his chest, wishing his hair was long enough to grab like this, but it was still short from a summer wax.

I needed him, I needed to feel full. I slammed myself down on him and he cursed in response, cautioning, “Fuck. Easy, babe.”

“Mark, please,” I whimpered, “I need more. I need you.” My hands unclenched, and I dug my fingers into his chest desperately.

His hands tightened on my hips as his punched up forcefully and he confirmed, “Ok?”

I nodded, almost delirious with pleasure as I begged, “More.”

He set a quick rhythm with his hips, and soon all that filled the room was the squelch of our bodies coming together and our sharp breaths. 

“Fuck, I’m almost there,” he groaned, “Tine, touch yourself.”

One of his hands left my hips and he took my fingers and pressed them to my clit, “Cum with me,” he urged.

“I can’t,” I choked out.

“You can,” he encouraged, “Look at me.” 

My eyes met his and he held my gaze as he continued, “I’m gonna get tested by the team doc tomorrow, because I can’t wait to fuck you skin to skin and fill you with my cum. I can’t wait to make you mine so you never have to worry about a man hurting you ever again. Even me.”

My voice was a whisper, as I whined out “Holy shit.”

“Now fucking cum with me, Clementine.” He punched his hips up hard and I came apart in a million pieces, like a stained glass window shattering from a bomb. He thrust into me irregularly until he sagged against the headboard and cradled me to his chest. 

We lay there in a sweaty mess, panting, until I broke the silence, and repeated, “You want to fill me with your cum?”

“Lemon, I swear to God, if you ruin this perfectly good moment with some self-deprecating sarcastic comment, I’m going to tell Landy you think his magic is dumb.”

I gasped in horror, “You wouldn’t. Also, again with mentioning Landy in bed!!!”

He kissed the top of my head chuckling, “You know I would. Now, just lay there and be quiet and soak in the moment.”

We were quiet again for a long time, long enough that the sweat was starting to dry on my skin and giving me goosebumps. I shivered, and this time it was Mark who broke the silence, asking “Does Daze need dinner or something?”

At the mention of dinner, my stomach growled. “Probably,” I guessed, “I know I need dinner. Why?”

I looked up at Mark and he was staring in the direction of the door as he told me, “Because she’s been quietly staring at me since we finished. Honestly, she started even before that, and if you weren’t half as hot as you are, I wouldn’t have been able to finish.”

I chuckled against his chest and sat up, pulling my leg over him, intimately feeling the loss of him inside me. “I’ll go feed her if you order pizza,” I offered.

Grabbing his shirt from earlier off the floor, I pulled it on, though it hugged my body a little more than I would have liked.

“Babe,” he sighed, “That one is covered in cum, grab a clean one out of the drawer.”

I gave him a saucy wink as I sashayed out of the room, shouting behind me, “Maybe I wanna be covered in your cum.”

He fell over into the pillows laughing and I heard him grumble, “Fucking minx.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

[profiterole-reads]

HP-like LGBT Books (not written by a TERF)

In no particular order. These are only books I've read and enjoyed. There are more out there and I will add them to the list as I make my way through them.

1. The Grimoire of Grave Fates created by Hanna Alkaf & Margaret Owen and written by 18 diverse authors: several non-binary characters, a trans woman, two trans boys + some f/f and m/m. This is an incredible collaboration! The students investigate the murder of a close-minded professor at their magic school.

2. Simon Snow by Rainbow Rowell: m/m. This is the most famous one. I wouldn't mind a TV adaptation, or even movies, but that sounds less likely.

3. A Hero at the End of the World by Erin Claiborne: m/m. This one is cute and funny. It doesn't hurt that the cover art is gorgeous.

4. Tim Te Maro and the Subterranean Heartsick Blues by HS Valley: m/m (YA, but very sexual). Simon Snow meets Sex Education, with a fake baby assignment. Simply hilarious!

5. Branches of Past and Future by MN Bennet: m/m + a trans boy and an ace girl. This is a magic school adult book series, focused on a teacher, though the students are all very interesting too. I adore the magic system.

6. Gallowgate by KR Alexander: queer male protagonist (MG). This one is about learning how to hunt ghosts and has horror vibes.

7. Magic University by Cecilia Tan: m/f and m/m, as the protagonist is bisexual + some trans characters (erotica). This series is surprisingly my favourite, even though I'm very picky with erotica.

8. [Spanish] Prodigioso principio de amor by Silvia Aliaga: m/m. This one takes place at the University of Magic and Eloquence, in Florence, Italy, and the two leads are from Spain and the UK.

9. It Ends in Fire by Andrew Shvarts: m/f and f/f, as the protagonist is bisexual + a non-binary minor character. This takes place in a heroic fantasy setting. I love the magic system.

10. Scholars and Sorcery by Eleanor Beresford: f/f (novellas). This short series is super sweet. It's mostly about life at the magic school.

11. Magic for Liars by Sarah Gailey: f/f-ish (content warning: murder mystery about a dead queer woman). If you're looking for something darker, go for this one.

12. [French] L'éveil des sorcières by Cordélia: lesbian major character (MG). This is another cute and funny one, with a lot of diversity. It hasn't been translated so far, but I'll keep you updated.

13. When the Letter Comes by Sara Fox: trans girl protagonist (short story). It's a little sad at first, but it gets better. You can read it legally and for free here.

14. DIY by John Wiswell: queerplatonic m/nb (short story). It's about climate change and capitalism and also has disability representation. You can read it legally and for free here.

15. My Name is Magic by Xan van Rooyen: f/nb + a major queer male character. I love that this story is inspired by Finnish folklore. There's a strong focus on protecting nature as magic is being consumed too fast.

16. Trans Wizard Harriet Porber by Chuck Tingle: trans woman protagonist (weird erotica for a laugh). This is the biggest crack I've ever read, as well as the biggest F*** You to transphobia.

17. This Is How We Fly by Anna Meriano: the protagonist is questioning her gender identity + some non-binary characters and some f/f (non-magical). This is a novel about muggle quidditch, a co-ed sport where "the gender that a player identifies as is considered to be that player's gender."

18. Brooms written by Jasmine Walls and illustrated by Teo DuVall: some f/f + a trans woman major character (graphic novel). A group of diverse women take part in unsanctioned team broom races.

[materassassino]

I am Angry and Have Opinions about that new Kory graphic novel (the primary opinion being it shouldn’t exist) so I drew this in a five-hour fugue state last night. A Flying Graysons ongoing or even a miniseries would be super fun and we deserve to see it. I’m tired of DC’s teen books being teen banality with a thin veneer of superhero stuff, rather than superhero teens (except the Green Lantern and Cassandra Cain teen books, they can stay). I know I’m not the demographic now but I have been the demographic for these books and frankly I would have found them insulting. I’d love to see Mar’i especially grappling with adolescence while having adventures in space and saving people and trying to build her own superhero team. Team-ups with Grandpa Bruce and her infinite uncles and Aunt Cass would be adorable too. A twenty-minutes-into-the-future ongoing Elseworld would be amazing, DC doesn’t exploit the endless possibilities of Elseworlds enough.

I also just want to see Dick and Kory be amazing parents.

Design-wise I tried to blend Dick and Kory’s costumes so they look like a cohesive unit Incredibles-style. Also halfway through I wondered why I was drawing Jake with straight hair so I changed it to a texture more similar to Kory’s and Mar’i’s. I don’t have a superhero name for him yet, either, so suggestions are welcome!

TL;DR: angy pixie draw superhero family

[brywrites]

🌟Bry’s Fic Masterlist🌟

You can find even more of my stories on ArchiveOfOurOwn !

OC and General Fics

The Keeping of Words (AO3): "Spencer," she said softly, "I'm not a genius. I don't have an eidetic memory. But I remember everything about you. And do you know why?" Reid/OC

Swan Song: They say the swan sings once, just before its death. And if the bitterest tears shed over a grave are for things unsaid and undone, it’s no wonder just driving to that cabin makes Spencer Reid want to cry. An introspective look at “Nelson’s Sparrow.” One-shot.

The Eye of a Hurricane: After a storm, not everyone is the same. But in the middle, for just a moment, there is a calm. A chance to prepare for what’s to come. A short series of introspective chapters set in the immediate aftermath of the season eleven finale.

Spencer Reid x Reader Stories

“✨” Denotes fics with some sort of sexual material! I rarely write anything graphic or extremely explicit, but I will sometimes include sex scenes and I’ve categorized them in three levels! If you’re under 18, I ask that you don’t read/interact with works in the second or third level.  ✨ = implied/referenced but not graphic, little more than what you’d find in an upper YA novel;    ✨✨ = “soft smut”, not graphic but more explicitly sexual than the previous level;    ✨✨✨ = as smutty as my writing gets 

🍡 Multi-Part 🍡

Window Seat (part I || part II): In which Reid stumbles upon the Reader in a library, and finds that his favorite armchair is currently occupied by this stranger.

Rewriting History (part I || part II || part III): In which a case at his high school brings Reid face to face with his former bullies, and the Reader - who happens to be the sister of one such bully.

Past Life (part I || part II || part III || part IV): In which Reid has unresolved and complicated feelings about the Reader from their time in high school. When she joins the BAU years later, he doesn’t know how to handle it.

Overwhelming (part I || part II || part III): In which Reid has a painfully obvious crush on the Reader. When she asks him out, the anxiety overwhelms him, and he has an Autistic panic attack.

Wish You Were Here (part I || part II || part III || part IV): In which Reid and the Reader wish they could change the past.

Unconventional Love (part I || part II): In which Reid falls for someone twelve years his junior, and when he brings the Reader to meet his team, not everyone is thrilled about it.

The Opposite of Loneliness: In which the Reader discovers books on making friends in Reid’s apartment - as well as notes on all their favorite things - and questions lead to confessions.

The Reid Effect (part I || part II): In which the Reader’s love for Reid remains a secret, until he asks her to help him surprise his new girlfriend, and everything comes undone.

Flight Risk (Series Masterlist): In which a pilot and a profiler become closer than originally planned when Reid finally meets one of the elusive individuals flying the BAU jet.

Focus (Part I ✨| Part II ✨✨): In which the BAU is racing to find Prentiss and stop Scratch - but when Reid can’t seem to focus long enough to think through the puzzle before them, the Reader has an… unconventional… and impulsive solution.

Lock and Key (Series Masterlist): In which Milburn Correctional Facility is a tough place to find hope in. But when Spencer Reid stumbles upon a GED class, led by a teacher with kind words and a smile that breaks through the dark, he thinks it might not be so hopeless after all.

Ghosts That We Knew (Series Masterlist): In which Spencer Reid spends his days hunting monsters and the Reader spends hers trying to forget them. But everything changes when her past comes back to haunt them both.

One-Shot

🍰 Just Fluff - satisfy your sweet tooth 🍰

Silver Linings: In which a power outage throws Reid and the Reader’s plans off schedule, and Reid learns to appreciate storms.

Saint Valentine: In which the Reader is determined to give Reid a reason to love Valentine’s Day again.

Missing Pieces: In which Reid surprises the Reader on her way home from the airport.

To Stand On Mountains: In which the Reader attempts to combat Reid’s post-case weariness with an atlas and a book of jokes.

Sweetest of Dreams: In which the Reader can’t fall asleep and Reid can’t shake his nightmares. But a shared sleeping arrangement might benefit them both.

Fever: In which Reid tries to take care of a sick Reader who doesn’t want to be taken care of.

Words Worth: In which the Reader attempts to flirt with Reid the only way she can think of - with literature.

Happy Tears: In which Reid tries to win the approval of the Reader’s eleven year-old son.

Rebel Girl: In which the Reader’s punk past leaves Reid feeling insecure.

Last Christmas: In which the Reader hates Christmas, and Reid promises to give her a good one.

Skin Deep: In which Reid’s attempt to compliment the Reader’s physical appearance doesn’t quite go as planned.

Nice Guys: In which Reid overhears the Reader saying he’s a little too nice, and he attempts to turn himself into a bad boy.

Coffee and You: In which Reid attempts to coax the Reader out of bed.

Pining: In which Reid assumes the only reason the girl he likes would have asked him out is that she’s making fun of him, and he immediately rejects her.

Feel Good: In which physical affection makes Reid self-conscious and he tries to change himself, and the Reader offers him a different solution.

Three Words, Eight Letters: In which Reid can’t manage to say “I love you” but the Reader can hear him say it every day.

Treat Yourself: In which the Reader takes Reid out shopping and he’s not quite sure how to react to the attention.

Reid to Me: In which the Reader is a writer who can’t seem to find the right words, but when Reid comes home from a rough case, those words are the only thing that help.

Model Behavior: In which Reid gets jealous watching the Reader photograph handsome models, so she improvises with a photoshoot just for him.

Troublesome: In which agents aren’t allowed to fraternize, but Reid finds himself thinking that for her, he’d break any rule.

A Natural: In which the Reader has fallen hard for her fellow professor, but Reid isn’t sure he’s the right kind of person to be in a relationship.

Small Wonders: ✨✨ In which the Reader and Reid serve as a reminder that intimacy can be lighthearted and soft too (light smut)

Gifted:  In which Reid has been told he’s gifted all his life, but those gifts always felt more like a curse. Until her.

Washed Away: In which everyone’s favorite touch-starved genius gets a little TLC from the Reader when they take a shower together.

☕️ Half and Half - a dash of angst or heavier topics, a dash of fluff, plenty of happy endings ☕️

Future Tense: In which Reid’s persistent nightmare leads to conversation with the Reader about the past, the present, and Maeve Donovan.

Extraordinary: In which Reid decides he’s no longer happy with the relationship.

Coming Home: In which Reid almost doesn’t make it home.

One of Them: In which the Reader leaves the BAU, and Reid isn’t ready to accept her departure.

Benefits: In which “friends with benefits” stopped working for Reid and the Reader. Which is fine. Until he finds out she went on a date with Anderson.

Whale Songs: In which Reid’s rambling becomes too much for the Reader, and she lashes out at him.

Could Not: In which the hurtful texts Reid receives from the Reader are not all that

Observations: In Reid learns that there are some things you shouldn’t bring up on a first date, and the Reader is asked to give him a second chance.they appear to be.

Close to You: Reid is rather touchy-feely with the Reader, and when she doesn’t return his physical affection, he’s hurt.

Love Looks Not With the Eyes: In which a simple dare to go out with Reid doesn’t feel so simple anymore, once the Reader realizes she’s genuinely interested in him.

Tell Me: In which Emily dies and it’s the Reader who has to tell the team. It’s the Reader’s home that Reid goes to crying, and it’s the Reader who he’s angry at when the truth finally comes out.

Delicious: In which the Reader discovers that Reid is struggling with an eating disorder, and does her best to encourage him to get help.

Contact: In which the Reader can finally hold him again when Reid is finally released from prison.

You Are Not Alone: After Emily’s death, Reid begins to pull away. The Reader fears he’s going to break up with her, only to discover he’s struggling with something much heavier.

To Have and To Hold: In which the Reader says she doesn’t want a relationship, and Reid says he’s not ready for one, and they both know they’re lying.

Miracles: In which Reid is good at falling in love, but doesn’t quite know how to be in love with someone - until it’s too late.

Seasonal: In which the Reader is excited to spend her first autumn with Reid, but their love grows colder like the weather.

This Too Shall Pass: In which the coronavirus pandemic is stressing the Reader out more than she expected. Fortunately, she’s quarantined with a genius.

Partners in Crime: ✨✨ In which Reid and the Reader often go undercover as a couple to bait an unsub, but this time things don’t quite go as planned.

Habits: In which the Reader discovers Reid’s old scars and he decides to tell her the truth about how he got them.

For a Living: In which Reid has worked hard to keep what he does a secret from the Reader, but she’s a little more perceptive than he expected.

Blindsided: In which it takes Reid far longer than he expects to realize the Reader is struggling with an eating disorder.

🍷 Actual Angst - for your moodier moments 🍷

Think of Me: In which the Reader and Reid have to say goodbye, though neither really wants to.

🍱Mini-fics, Finale Fixes, and miscellaneous - canon? what canon? 🍱

Mini-fic Quick Fixes to the season 14 finale (An Alternate Ending to “Truth or Dare” or, “How Not to Entirely Fuck Up 14 Seasons of Your Show in Three Minutes”) and the series finale (“Farewell” - A Slight Fix to the Finale Episode)

Post-finale Minific Request Series: largely featuring minifics about Reid and Max, but with a few for Garvez, Emily, Rossi, etc.

2K Celebration Song Ficlets: as requested, featuring various pairings

TKOW Mini-fics: requested mini-fics set in the The Keeping of Words universe

Spencer Reid NSW Alphabet: ✨✨✨ exactly what it sounds like

Spencer Reid x Max Brenner

Little Beautiful: In which Max Brenner’s art gallery is full of beautiful things, and Spencer Reid finds himself surprised by what it includes.

[ryuu-to-sobakasu-hime]

Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime (Belle) Novel | English Translation | Chapter 1

**This is a machine translation. I put it together by extracting text page-by-page from a .pdf version of the Japanese novel, and running it through Google translate. I have only minorly edited some of the more confusing lines to make it more read-able. It is still a very rough translation, but it’s good enough to understand what’s going on. If there is anyone out there who wants to properly translate the novel, I am more than happy to edit it, if you’ll contact me.**

---------------------------------------------

Ryuu to Sobakasu Hime (The Dragon and the Freckled Princess)

In the world of U, Belle met a dragon with a wound on his back.

“Who are you?”

Chapter 1: Invitation

A white line emerges in the darkness.

It slowly approaches. What is this line?

It gradually becomes clear. It's a series of units with intricate details. They are lined up regularly and repeatedly, like cells seen under a microscope.

Cells?

No, it's a "city".

This is a mysterious megacity called "U".

Created by the five wise men, the "Voices" who control the intellect of this world,

U is the ultimate virtual world.

The largest Internet space in history, which has surpassed 5 billion accounts worldwide and continues to expand.

You haven't played "U" yet.

It is displayed opposite to the shaped figure.

"We are investigating various shapes of U particles to embody this ethos, similar to the differences and peculiarities of each person in the world."

“Much like the difference and particularity that makes each individual in the world unique, this explores a variety of different shaped U particles to embody this ethos......"

One of the innumerable U particles is determined.

Authentication is complete.

"Welcome to the world of 'U'.”

U particles pop out from a myriad of smartphone-shaped windows.

Welcome to the world of U.

It's you, authenticated.

The U particle instantly turned into a pretty rabbit-shaped girl.

The announcement echoes.

"'U' uses the latest body-sharing technology so that everyone can relax, gather and enjoy."

Here, the avatar is referred to as "Az" (Az = Autonomous self).

Autonomous self. Az is your alter ego in "U".

The best AI that "U" is proud of is your Az.

Perform automatic generation.

U particles that also logged in are generated one after another in Az and fly from the window.

You can see it popping out.

Your Az - that is, a lovely girl with white, fluffy ears popping out of her sleek hat, descends like skydiving with your first friends.

The sea of ​​clouds, which had filled the field of vision, suddenly opened.

The brilliance of the skyscraper town reflected by the light of the twilight.

You will instinctively yell out in admiration.

The elaborately constructed geometric skyscrapers have no top and bottom, no left and right, and are layered on top of each other, creating an overwhelming evening view that has never been seen before.

A gorgeous shopping mall. Release that left the company while it was still bright in the evening

In the feeling, wander around Fifth Avenue, Champs Elysees, or Ginza.

It's such fun. Az dressed in colorful costumes are like a Venetian costume ball, and it's fun just to look at them. Graphical pieces of florets are spinning and floating like confetti. When you pick up one of them and smell the scent, a refreshing young scent lurks in the gorgeous and sensual. Perfect for the view of this city. You suddenly look up at the heavens while swimming like a bird on the rippling boulevard. Even in places that should be empty, upside-down skyscrapers are so crowded that they look like they are about to fall. There is a huge park that looks like a hollowed-out skyscraper town, and you can look down on the Az who play with it.

Is there a city that makes you feel so free?

You realize without a doubt, this is the center of the world.

The moon can be seen in the gaps between skyscrapers.

The announcement echoes.

<< "U" is another reality >>

《Az is another you》

<< Here is everything >>

The crescent moon that draws an arc below seems to be in the shape of a "U".

<< Reality cannot be redone. But if it's "U", you can start over. >>

<< Now, let's live another you. >>

《Now, let ’s start a new life》

"Now, let's change the world."

Suddenly, the noise of the city was cut off.

It's a song.

Someone is singing.

Where do you hear it? Many Az try to find the voice of the singer.

I'm turning. You, too, listen.

The song is magnificent and delicate. Intimate and powerful.

I'm drawn in unintentionally.

"Over there!"

Someone shouted. The line of sight of many Az gathers at one point.

A whale.

A huge whale dressed up with countless speakers is swimming leisurely between the upside-down buildings. At the tip of his nose, a small figure in a crimson dress can be seen. The song seems to come from there. The whale makes a roaring sound from the countless speakers it wears. She stands on the tip of the whale's nose and sings with an overwhelming voice that is comparable to the sound pressure of the whale’s roaring. What looked like a crimson dress was a flower dress made up of various types of red, such as dahlia, gerbera, and echinacea. She has unrealistically long pink hair. Blue eyes as deep as the sea. A beautiful woman.

And on her cheeks, there are freckles that look like they are engraved.

"Belle!" "Belle!"

The Az looked up at her and called her name from their mouths.

Her name is "Belle."

Lalalai Lalalai Running through a nameless time Unbeknown to anybody To reach that crescent moon Lalalai Lalalai Want to get to know you No matter how many times I awake Feeling like I can't even make a sound

"Belle!" "Belle!" "Belle!"

You are among the wide variety of Az who call her name. I knew it. Unknowingly singing Belle's song. She turns her face and smiles in response to the cheers. For a moment you feel like her eyes meet you and your chest squeezes. Once you see her, you'll be attracted to her and you can't take your eyes off her anymore. You're already captivated by her, even though you've just met her.

"Belle!" "Belle!" "Belle!" "Belle!"

Belle crossed her hand in front of her chest and spread it all at once.

At the same time, graphical flowers were emitted all at once from her body.

The flowers spread all over the city from the top of the whale that swims leisurely. Belle sings loudly, as if to bless every person, every event, every life. Who the hell is Belle?

-------------------

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Dcx2NedPVBEdbfQaU-WC0pJMRmn20ASn7HSC0KY9R7E/edit?usp=sharing ~ Google Doc of the English-translated novel.

ryuutosobakasuhime.wordpress.com ~ English fan-site for Ryuu to Sobakasu no Hime where translations, scans, and other content is posted.

[ahatintimepieces]

In Want of Stitching

I am delighted to present another little fic for the build-a-bear au by @smieska-draws​‘ and me! Smieska generously offered to let me post her incredible art above^ with this fic where Hattie is reunited with her favorite doll from her childhood! The doll is worse for wear, but Hattie knows just how to help! Be sure to give Smieska your love, and if you missed it, the previous fic is here. Without further ado, enjoy!

Words: 4,180

Hattie kicked her legs as she perched on the table in the breakroom. One hand was propped back, nestled between Dimitri’s bag and her backpack, and the other held her dwindling milkshake left over from dinner. While she waited for her dad to finish up with the last customer before closing, she watched Dimitri fuss with the supplies on the shelves.

He struggled to pull out one of the drawers and the sharp jostle of the handle caused the whole structure to shift. He froze and Hattie’s eyes widened as they waited to see if the cleaning items up top would tumble. While the bottles wobbled like a spinning toy wavering to a stop, they stilled without any avalanche and Dimitri and Hattie relaxed.

“I’m just going to deal with that in the morning,” Dimitri huffed, turning around. “Don’t tell your dad.”

Hattie gave him a thumbs up as she reached the dredges of her milkshake and the straw gurgled as it sucked air between the last of the frosty cream. While he crossed over to the rack of aprons, her gaze drifted down to the floor. The off-kilter shelf had shifted away from the wall, revealing a large dust bunny.

Narrowing her eyes, she tried to get a better look at the mound of grey that seemed to cover something else.

“See ya tomorrow, kid?” Dimitri prompted, snapping his name tag against the magnet on the wall.

“Probably!” She lifted her chin.

“Boss says a daycare center has scheduled a trip to the mall, so we might be busy,” he sighed, reaching for his bag. She scooted out of his way and nodded.

“That could be fun. But also noisy,” she offered, glancing up as she mentally noted to warn Belle, Mu, and Timmy that they needed to avoid the food court for lunch. Maybe hide in the café connected to the bookstore.

“Noisy is right.” Dimitri swung his bag over his shoulder.

“Will Dad have to work on the floor?” She lowered her empty milkshake.

“I imagine so,” he paused on his way to the door. When she placed the cup down and blew a raspberry as she slouched, he prompted, “why?”

“It just means I have to keep Mu and Timmy away. They’re trying to prove he’s magic and can blow things up with his mind.” Scowling, she swung her legs a little too hard and the table creaked underneath her.

“Is that why they asked him to heat up their—”

“Lunch?” She crinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

Dimitri sucked in air before bursting into laughter.

“They looked so mad when he used the microwave!” he wheezed, gesturing to the other table with the offending appliance. “Mu’s stink eye nearly killed me!”

“It’s dumb,” Hattie grumbled.

Catching her frustration, Dimitri reeled in his laughter and cleared his throat.

“There’s no harm in it,” he tried. “The boss can be a bit eccentric, and it can be fun to pretend, but I’m sure even Mu and Timmy know he’s not actually able to light things on fire or…” he paused, giving her a curious look, “steal souls.”

“They sure act like he does.” She turned away, cupping her chin in her hands.

“Have you told them it bothers you when they fixate on it?” Dimitri asked sympathetically.

“Yeah, and they ignore it because they think he actually does all of those things.” Her glare hardened.

“You could talk to the boss?”

“I don’t want him to know about the rumors.” After a beat, she looked up to meet Dimitri’s blank expression. “What?”

“He knows,” he said dryly. Her jaw dropped and he softened. “Listen, you might want to just talk with him about the whole Snatcher myth if it’s getting under your skin, but it’s not harming anyone. I think it also gets the store more foot traffic from teens, which isn’t usually our intended demographic. So, in a way, it even helps!”

Hattie groaned, flopping onto her backpack and staring at the ceiling.

“Hang in there, kid.” His shoes tapped against the tile as he walked towards the door. “But just talk to him. See you!”

“Night, Dimitri.” She gave a halfhearted wave as he left. Once the door shut, she fixated on the faint buzz of the lights in the breakroom.

Seconds ticked by.

She heaved herself up, bored with staring blankly and too tired to stew in her frustration any longer. After scooting to the edge of the table, she dropped down with her flipflops slapping against the ground. She intended to toss the milkshake cup and pester her dad while he closed the workshop, but her gaze shifted back towards the shelves. The oddly large dust bunny piqued her curiosity once more and she crossed over.

Crouching down, she prodded the clump of hairs and silver dust. A dead fly was caught in the webbing and bits of dirt or crumbs were suspended on the hairs. But when she pressed down, a firm something lay between her and the tile.

Shifting, she pressed her cheek against the wall and peered into the crack between it and the shelf. Behind the dust bunny lay a small doll, crushed and crumpled.

After a precursory check for spiders, she reached back and pinched one of the doll’s puffy sleeves. The dust bunny tickled her finger, and she crinkled her nose in disgust. As soon as the doll was pulled out into the open, she batted the wad of grey from its mitten hand, and the cloud of minuscule debris floated harmlessly to the ground. She gasped when she held the doll out in the light.

Beneath the grey streaks of grime, a missing button eye, the torn right arm, and a left hand hanging by a single thread, was the prince doll that she had loved so dearly when she was younger. Her heart soared, but the doll’s state soon had guilt souring her joy.

It had been ages. The last time she saw the doll, he had been a bit worn, but still intact. She had been near inconsolable when she lost him. Her dad promised to get her a new, better doll, but she loved the prince doll because of all the memories they shared. Despite all her searching and tears back then, her dad urged her to move on as the doll had continued to elude her. And no wonder! All this time, the doll had been in the breakroom rather than home. He must have somehow fallen behind the shelf at the workshop when she had been playing, only to be shoved deeper and deeper into the dark over the years.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, frowning at the frayed threads where a button used to be. When she poked the remaining button, it wobbled, threatening to soon snap away as well. She brushed back the yarn hair, covered in dust that caused the chestnut hue to appear murky. The felt crown looked more brown than yellow, and ashen stuffing dripped from the doll’s arm and broken wrist.

But… it was still her favorite doll. Though it had been years, relief surged through her chest.

“I’ll clean you up!” she promised to herself, gently giving the dusty, dilapidated doll a soft hug.

She knew how to sew, at least! And she had the materials at home. She could even surprise her dad! He always reacted positively when she showed him the hats or masks she made.

Scrambling to her feet, she carried the doll over to the table. She grabbed a couple of tissues to wrap him up, both hoping to keep him protected and intact and to prevent the dust from spreading in her backpack. She was just tucking him safely into her bag, nestled between new fabric she got from her millinery lessons earlier and a graphic novel that Timmy recommended, when the door thrust open.

She turned, noting her dad’s slouched posture as he removed his apron, which was common on days he had to both open and close the workshop. Holding his hand over his mouth, he tried to cover a wide yawn, but his sharp fangs still glinted in the light.

“Time to go?” Hattie prompted while zipping up her backpack.

“Finally, yes.” He paused, glancing towards the shelves. “Did Dimitri refill the sewing kits?”

She shrugged in Dimitri-solidarity when her dad turned back around. He accepted it without further prodding and tossed his apron onto a hook.

Hattie slipped on her backpack gently to keep from jostling the doll as her dad pulled out his hair tie and scratched at his scalp. He grabbed his keys and waited for Hattie to shuffle over.

Once he finished locking up and took her hand to lead her through the dark parking lot, she mentally went through the list of supplies she needed to fix up the prince doll. Neither she nor her dad said a word as their footsteps tapped against the still warm gravel. But that was normal for them. Her dad didn’t usually have much to say unless otherwise prompted by people or work, especially when he was tired. So, she continued her quiet pondering all the way home, staring blankly at the streetlights as the radio played family-friendly tunes at a hushed volume.

As soon as they got home, Hattie dashed into her room. She swept her arm across her workbench to clear away the new beret she was making and placed her top hat on the hat display stand her teacher had given her. Since she only had one, it was her favorite top hat that got the place of honor. Then, she dropped her backpack onto the ground and retrieved the prince doll.

He lay on the tissues that were now smeared with grey. Even just folding back the material caused Hattie to swiftly turn away and sneeze, jostling him as he perched on her palm. She’d need to clean the doll, but the open cuts in his arms worried her. After prodding around, she decided it might be better to pluck out the dusty stuffing, since his arms were closed off from his main body anyway. The loose button, too, she thought to remove to ensure easier cleaning.

She got to work, walking back and forth between her room and the bathroom as she ferried supplies. If her dad wondered what she was up to, he didn’t comment as he settled down in the living room to quietly read.

Setting up a doll bath in the sink by lowering the plug, she submerged the doll into the water with iridescent bubbles lining the porcelain. His one arm threatened to come off and his other hand floated at an odd angle. Undaunted, Hattie stuck out her tongue as she scrubbed the dust and cobwebs from his hair. The felt crown popped off at one point, and while she rescued it, the original gilded color seemed beyond saving so she decided to replace it. But she kept the crown nearby so that she could copy the size and shape.

Once the years of neglect were scrubbed away, Hattie drained the sink and rinsed the soap suds from the doll. The chest felt heavy with the water, even more than the lolling head. But hopefully the doll would dry just fine.

While wringing out the water, she tried to squeeze the doll gently, intent on preserving the fragile threads. Finally, she laid him out on a towel and used another to dab up as much water as she could. Wondering if she could borrow her dad’s hairdryer to speed up the process, she hurried into the living room.

“Da-ad,” she called as she padded onto the carpet. “Where’s your hairdryer?”

“Under the sink in my bathroom. Why?” He turned the page of his novel without looking up.

“It’s a surprise.” Arcing around the table, she peeked at the title. She recognized it as Ember’s latest recommendation from her book club. Curious, she slipped over to the armrest where he reclined. She leaned over his shoulder and identified Ember’s annotations that lined the margins in pencil, confirming that she had loved it enough to lend him the book.

“Should I be worried about this surprise?” he asked, unbothered by her hovering.

“Nope!” she chirped cheerfully as she jumped back to face him.

“Carry on, then,” he muttered, his golden eyes flittering back and forth as he read.

The amber light from the lamp behind him skipped across the strands of his hair, painting the coal-colored locks with flickers of iridescent violets. With his cheek pressed into his palm and his elbow on the armrest, his gaze momentarily flickered away from the book as he used his pinky finger to turn to the next page.

“Need something else, kiddo?”

Instead of answering right away, she hopped onto the couch and crawled onto his chest. He held still as she flopped onto her back, staring up at the book.

“Is the story good?” she prompted.

“It’s crafted well.”

“But are you enjoying it?” She tilted her head back into his shoulder. He kept his eyes ahead.

“Not really.” He sounded calm as he said it.

“But you don’t hate it?” she clarified.

“No.” He turned the page.

She sighed, not expecting anything different.

Usually, it didn’t matter. But she didn’t want the same reaction if she asked how he felt about the rumors of the Snatcher. She knew Dimitri thought she needed to talk to him about it but…

“What would you do if you had magic powers?” she asked instead.

“What?” That got him to look down. He quirked a brow and she shrugged.

“If I had magic powers, I would make my top hat like a bag of holding. I could carry all my stuff everywhere and be prepared for anything.”

“Oh.” He relaxed and lifted his gaze back to his novel.

“So, what would you do?” she repeated.

“Hm?”

“What would you do with magic?”

He hummed, lifting his head and reaching over to help steady the book as he turned the page. Once he settled back, he shrugged.

“I’d use it to heat up my coffee.”

For a split second, she wondered if he was also privy to Timmy’s and Mu’s speculations.

“That’s boring.” She narrowed her eyes.

“I’m a boring person,” he provided.

She grumbled and he continued to read. Scooting closer to his arm holding the book, she wedged herself into the crook formed by him and the back of the couch. He shifted slightly, but otherwise let her get comfortable. She curled up so that the side of her head pressed against his chest.

There was a muffled crackling sound, like crinkled paper.

“Hey Dad, do you know about the Snatcher?” She tensed.

“You mean what everyone calls me at work?” He managed a snort. “Or do you mean all that talk of soul-stealing?”

She snapped her head up, baffled.

“Y-you’re okay with it?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” He met her gaze, though from the way his palm squished his cheek and he leaned back, he seemed far from interested.

“Because it’s not true!” She gestured wildly. “Isn’t that something your dumb books talk about? Unfair deformation of character.”

“I think you mean defamation,” he corrected with a sly grin.

“That too!” she insisted.

“It gets us more customers and makes my job more interesting. So, no. It doesn’t bother me.” He started to tear his gaze away, “But speaking of my dumb books—”

“But you don’t snatch souls or eat them!” She sat up, knocking his book back. He huffed as he lowered his arm. She perched on his stomach. “People are scared of you!”

“There are worst things,” he said in a lackadaisical tone. Since he couldn’t read, he swiveled his head in his chin to look out at the living room. He tapped his sharp nails against his cheek pensively.

“But Dad—”

“Hattie, it doesn’t bother me,” he interrupted, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “Didn’t you have something you were in the middle of? The whole Snatcher thing doesn’t matter. It’s not worth getting worked up over.”

She pressed her lips into a tight line to keep from pouting.

“But why doesn’t it bother you?” she tried once more after a moment.

“Kid, that’s enough.” He wiggled his arm trapped behind her back to coax her off. “Go run along.” He suddenly sucked in a breath and covered a noisy yawn. The creases under his eyes deepened as the shadows stretched away from the light.

Hattie deflated.

“Fine,” she grumbled, scooting forward.

He grunted when she leapt off his stomach, but his focus returned to reading without another comment.

Hattie retrieved his hairdryer and returned to her bathroom, where the prince doll remained drenched. She turned the setting to no heat and plugged it in. While the drone of the hairdryer filled the bathroom, she zoned out.

All this time, she had been trying to shelter her dad from the rumors but apparently, she was the only one who cared that people thought he could suck souls out with his fangs like some sort of vampire who loved to sunbathe and didn’t mind garlic.

“It’s not fair,” she muttered under the whirling hairdryer. She glared down at the faceless prince doll. His mitten hand fluttered precariously while the gash in his bicep caught air and caused his arm to fluff up like it had stuffing again.

Her features softened as she carefully tilted the dryer back and forth.

She would rather her dad wasn’t upset by the rumors, which is why she waited so long to say anything, but somehow it felt lonelier than ever when she was the only one who cared.

With a slight slouch, she turned the dryer away and then carefully rolled the doll onto his stomach. She finished drying him out and placed him on a fresh towel while she cleaned up. And though she passed her dad as he returned from the kitchen with a steaming mug while she was on her way to the laundry room, he didn’t question her bundle of towels under his hairdryer.

Her step gained an enthusiastic bounce when she was finally ready to fix the doll. She carried him back to her workbench and gingerly set him down. For reference, she carefully pried the old storybook from her shelf and opened to the most crinkled set of pages, worn from love and constant rereads under her covers at night.

“Here it is, Prince!” She presented the first illustration of the kindly character with puffy sleeves greeting bluebirds, bunnies, and deer. She winced at the doll’s blank face. “Whoops. You can’t see. But don’t worry! I’ll fix that!”

She propped the book back against the worktable and used the beret and open sewing kit to pin it open. After she grabbed a handful of stuffing from her reserves in one of the drawers, found a button to match his eye, and sorted through the spools she’d need, she finally sat down.

Now that the doll was clean, his vibrant crimson coat and purple boots looked just like the illustration. But the blush on his cheeks had faded and one of the stitches meant to look like laces on his boots had frayed. With steady hands familiar with detail work from all her hat making, she looped thread through a sharp needle and got to work.

Fixing the boot and resewing the buttons was a bit tricky, but once the prince had his eyes again, his blank features regained the warmth she remembered. She stuck her tongue out as she restuffed his arms. At first, she wondered if she could add a little muscle definition but no matter how she finagled the lumps, she couldn’t get them to look right.

“Sorry, you’re stuck with noodles for arms,” she lamented dramatically, tugging out the extra fluff.

His large button eyes stared at the ceiling.

The final challenge was stitching his hand back on, and only because the mitten hand was so tiny. She struggled to keep it in place as she threaded the needle through his wrist. After having to backtrack and redo the area a couple times, she eventually got the hand snuggly back into place. The stitches lined his wrist, mostly concealed by the edges of his sleeve.

Then, she only needed to close the tear in his bicep and was able to hide the work under the gold band of his puffy shoulder. Once she placed the scissors down after snipping the final thread, she leaned back with an exhale. As she stretched out her back, she appraised her work.

“How do you feel?” she asked, cupping the prince doll and giving his arm and wrist a few squeezes. When she tapped his button eyes to ensure they remained firmly in place, she glanced up at the illustration to compare. She jolted.

“Your crown!” She whirled around, looking for the dull accessory that had popped off during the cleaning. Her head snapped down and she heaved a sigh of relief when she noticed it had fallen onto her carpet.

She grabbed the felt crown and procured a piece of scrap cloth leftover from the bright yellow beret she intended to give to her dad when it was finished. Snipping the dull crown to flatten it out, she traced its pattern on the scrap fabric. After she cut it out, she glued the edges together, careful to keep it seamless as she held the ends with tweezers.

“Perfect!” She held the new crown next to the prince’s head. She found a lump near the base of the yarn hair where the other crown had been glued previously and glued on the new crown its place. Once the glue had dried and the crown remained fastened to his head, Hattie beamed at her work.

“You look perfect!” She leapt to her feet, hugging the doll to her chest. “Let’s show you to Dad!” She darted over to the living room, shouts of excitement welling from her pride, but she skidded to a stop when she found him fast asleep on the couch.

She heaved out a sigh that dissolved into a blown raspberry.

Oh well.

Since even the book flopped open on his chest visibly quivered from his shivering, she crossed over to the wicker basket filled with throws and blankets and grabbed his favorite from the top. She dragged it over him with one hand, but when she reached the book with pages folding at odd angles, she looked from the blanket pinched in one hand and the prince doll cradled in the other.

“Watch him for me for a second,” she whispered to the prince, dropping the blanket and trading him for the book.

Her dad flinched in his sleep at the sudden shift, but she was too busy locating his bookmark on the coffee table to notice. After guessing where he left off, she placed the closed book next to his mug, which still had a puddle of coffee. She turned back around to find her dad twitching.

“Dad?” She reached out but recoiled at how much heat he radiated.

While his eyes remained squeezed shut, his chest jerked under the limp doll. Panicked panting gripped his restless slumber but before Hattie could try to wake him, he turned to his side, flinging the doll away as he twisted. Hattie bent to catch the prince as her dad’s breathing slowly returned to a calmer pace.

She placed the doll back on the table, fretting as she watched her dad’s tight brows relax. His long, spiky black hair tumbled over his sweaty features, but once his exhales fluttered out like a flickering ember, he began shivering again. Hattie crinkled her nose, holding the back of her hand to his forehead covered by hair and then to his clawed fingers.

Almost like ice.

Unsure whether she wanted to wake him after that, she tugged the blanket the rest of the way and watched him for a few seconds longer. He usually felt colder at night, often kindling the image of a campfire dwindling as those around it slept, but his sudden spike in temperature concerned her.

Was he getting sick?

A few more moments passed, and he remained steady. Hattie gnawed on her lip but decided not to worry. If she woke him up when nothing was wrong, he’d just get grumpy. She’d make sure to check on him later, though.

When grabbing the prince doll, she found it trembled in her palm. She tried to meter her own breathing to soothe herself, thinking her dad’s temperature spike had left her more shaken than she realized. She calmed enough to stop shivering after nestling the doll into the plush pile next to her pillow. But as she walked away to get ready for bed, she did not realize that the prince doll continued to tremble on his own.

Slowly, and like a heartbeat that just remembered its pulse.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

It's Delicate: Part II

Summary: Spencer Reid finds himself at a gas station at 2:00 am, thinking he’s only leaving with a cup of crappy coffee. But something taped to the door catches his eye. Spencer leaves the gas station with more than he intended: the chance at a friend, and maybe something more along the way.

Word Count: 3.6 k

Author’s Note: Here's the second part in It's Delicate, my first chapter fic. I've planned out kind of where I see this eventually going! Thank you to anyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs. It really means the world to me.

Content Warnings: Expletive language (3 uses), mentions of drug use, sexual innuendo

READ PART I

It's Delicate Masterlist

It's Delicate

Sitting on the plane, Spencer looks out from the little window. For hours, there’s been nothing but corn fields and clouds. It’s eerily peaceful, being there high above the clouds. His whole life Spencer has felt this distance between him and everyone else, but nothing makes that feeling more prominent than being strapped in a glorified metal box 35,000 feet off the Earth’s surface. But the thing is, Spencer does need to be flying above the trees to feel lonely. He can do that with two feet on the ground.

Luke sits across Spencer, the table between them and a deck of playing cards are spread out across its surface. He has to nudge Spencer’s leg from under the table, trying to bring him back to reality as he stares out the window.

“Whatcha thinking,” Luke asks, Spencer has been noticing more and more that Luke is one of the few people that actually listens to him.

Spencer, whose mind is racing too fast to even formulate an articulate thought, attempts to dodge Luke’s question with a noncommittal shrug.

“Reid, these cases are hard for all of us, you gotta know that man,” Luke says, laying down a four of a kind.

Spencer narrows his eyes, shocked that it hasn’t clicked yet for the rest of the team. He cracks his neck, preparing to answer Luke.

“We almost locked up an innocent man, Alvez. I almost sent another man to the same fate as myself. What kind of fucked up message is that?” Spencer says, throwing down the cards on the table. He doesn’t wait for Luke to respond.

“I fold,”

Spencer walks off into the small kitchenette to make a cup of coffee. He doesn’t want to think about his increased reliance on coffee, because he knows it’s a hot cup of coffee or a cold needle of Dilaudid in his veins. Spencer checks his watch, it’s 10:17 pm, maybe too late to find a meeting at a church or rec center somewhere.

He sneaks a peak at his phone, which was still unfortunately on Airplane Mode, he hasn’t even gotten a chance to see if Y/N has responded. He doesn’t know much about her, just as much as she knows about him.

It’s a brave new world for Spencer and he’s knee deep into the unknown.

Spencer can feel Luke’s eyes on him. He just knows that the minute he gets home, a certain tech expert will be ringing him. He knows that it’s Luke’s way of caring, but for someone who’s been alone for so long, having people that actually care is almost drowning.

Walking back to his seat, Spencer hands Luke a coffee. He smiles slightly; it’s the awkward smile that he used to make when intimating police chiefs and idiot cops would look him up and down like he’s a TA. It’s a peace offering for Luke, who despite his tough looking exterior, is one of the kindest people Spencer knows.

“Look, Reid. I’m sorry that we didn’t put it together. It’s just that man that we caught, he’s not like you. He’s not innocent of crimes, he’s just innocent of this crime,” Luke says in an attempt to make Spencer feel a little bit better.

“The thing is Luke, I’m exactly like that man,”

Spencer returns to staring out the window. The cards and the coffee on the table are long ignored for the silence that is found when you’re high above the clouds.

--

Spencer hears Tara and Emily murmur quietly about going out for a round of drinks. Luke accepts, while JJ and Matt decline, eager to get home to their families. Emily looks over at Spencer, her eyes silently scanning him, his body language. Spencer knows that there’s nothing he can hide from Emily, so there’s no use in trying to pretend he’s alright when she can take one look at him and know that nothing is right.

“You guys have fun, I’m going to head home and get some sleep. I plan on visiting my mom tomorrow and mornings are usually better for her,” Spencer says, slinging his go bag around his shoulders and making the trek back to the security to check out.

He walks slowly, enjoying the sound of the crickets chirping as he trudges along. Spencer tries not to think about the man, Richard, who was almost locked up for a crime that he didn’t commit. Spencer is pretty sure that being the person to throw an innocent man in jail is worse than being the innocent man in jail.

Spencer’s phone buzzes loudly, disturbing the silence of his walk. He looks at the phone to see a couple of messages from Y/N. Spencer slides open the lock to his phone and hits the button to read her messages.

Y/N: Spencer...that has a nice ring to it. So tell me a little bit about yourself. Your big three, but as books. Go! 🌞🌙⬆️

Furrowing his brow, Spencer reads the message over again. He does not have a clue what “big three” means, but it seems like some sort of pop culture thing that he’s not skilled in. He wants to text Garcia for a translation, but he’s also not too keen on telling her how he came across Y/N’s number.

Y/N: I assume you’re working, but I'm kind of impatient so I’ll give you mine 🙃 I’m a Little Women sun, an Emma moon, and an In Cold Blood rising.

Y/N: Oh no….I hope my astrology didn’t turn you off

Y/N: Not that I was trying to turn you on

Y/N: omg Y/N please shut the fuck up

Astrology? Spencer isn’t one to judge, but he’s a scientist first and foremost. The idea that there is something written about him in the stars seems like ludicrous. He decided to ignore the other messages, particularly the ones with a little more than slight innuendo.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m sorry I just got out of work. As for my big three, I’m not sure about astrology. I don’t particularly believe in pseudoscience. But those are good choices. In Cold Blood is an excellent choice. Capote spent years researching the case. In fact his prose and technique inspired the entire “Nonfiction novel” genre. The world of journalism and true crime would not be where it is without Capote’s work.

Y/N: Oh my god. You are a total nerd. 🙀

That stops Spencer right in his tracks. He’s only a couple of yards away from the Volvo at this point, but somehow it feels a million miles away. You are a total nerd. The words replay in his mind as the small gray bubbles pop up again. Spencer can feel his heart constrict at Y/N’s words. It’s ridiculous, he’s nearly 34 and is getting upset that a stranger called him a nerd. Spencer unlocks his car and tosses his go bag, phone included onto the passenger seat.

After a couple of minutes his phone buzzes again. He’s half tempted to answer it, but the way his heart seems to beat faster tells him to ignore it.

Y/N: I fucking love it and I think you’ll love this too

Spencer’s entire demeanor changes as he reads the message. He’s always had difficulties reading emotion in writing, especially when he can’t analyze the handwriting. Sometimes, it’s even harder to judge inflection during conversations. Maybe that is why Spencer has spent all this time studying people, studying the way that their minds work. Before he can get too lost in his thoughts, another message pops up.

Y/N: Meet Capote and Second Cat

Y/N: They are the loves of my life

Spencer: They are very...distinguished looking. Capote is an excellent name choice then. Second Cat is also quite catchy.

Spencer hesitates before sending the message, he notices that Y/N uses what Garcia calls “emojis” quite frequently. He assumes that it’s some sort of “texting lingo” that expresses emotion in small graphics. Great, he thinks. He already has a difficult time deciphering Y/N’s cryptic wording and now he’s got to analyze these emojis.

Maybe he should profile her. He re-reads the message and settles on a “😄” because he figures that he can’t go wrong with offering Y/N a smile.

Spencer: I don’t have a cat, but when I was a kid I always wanted one, they’re quite good companions for those that live several different kinds of lifestyles. From active to sedentary, they are adaptable and independent. Honestly they are the perfect pet.

Y/N: Is this your way of telling you’re a crazy cat man? 😜 🙀

Spencer, still sitting in his car that’s parked in the parking lot, chuckles at Y/N’s response to his message. Maybe it’s just easier to ignore his rambling when it’s done through 1s and 0s and there isn’t a face to the words.

Spencer: I’m actually more of a fish guy

Y/N: Like a “I-like-to-go-fishing-and-post-picture-of-myself-kissing-my-catch-on-Tinder” kind of fish guy or...I can’t think of any other kind of fish men

Spencer, not totally understanding the obvious joke that Y/N is trying to make, settles on something that he hasn’t really ever tried: being himself.

Spencer: Not quite sure what a Tinder is, but I think fishing is terrifying and kissing a fish is something out of nightmares. But his name is Leo

Y/N: DiCaprio?

Spencer: Uhh, Tolstoy

Y/N: Good😉 ⚔️🕊️ 🇷🇺

Spencer glances at his clock on the control panel, it tells him that he’s been messaging with Y/N back and forth for nearly 22 minutes. He nearly forgot how tired he was.

Spencer: Y/N- I’m so sorry but, I just got to my car to drive home from work. I’ll text you tomorrow morning about the book club, maybe we can figure out some things.

Y/N: OMG Spencer!! you should have told me. I’ve been talking ur ear off. sleep well and yes please tomorrow we can talk about the book club

Y/N: Good night, Book Buddy 😴

Spencer wants to respond to Y/N, but he doesn’t know what to say. She seems to text so easily, and judging by that, she must be around Spencer’s age or a little bit younger. Besides JJ and Penelope, Spencer has never had a friend close to his age. It’s a strange new territory for him and he’s walking in head first into No Man’s Land.

He starts his Volvo, the check engine still lights but, reminding him once again to go get it fixed. Driving away from the parking lot, Spencer hands over his ID to Gina, the security guard. She checks his ID and gives him a tired smile. Spencer, as he drives home to his apartment, thinking about what books he and Y/N will read together. He wonders what kind of books are her favorite, if they have any authors that they can obsess over together, or if what she thinks a poet’s prose is.

The summer air rushing in through the window is nowhere as warm and as comforting as thought of Spencer finally having a friend that isn’t able to read the scars of his past in the text bubbles that pop up on her screen.

--

When Spencer opens his eyes for the first time that morning, he isn’t sure where he is. Sometimes, before he can stop his thoughts from travelling there, Spencer thinks he’s still in jail. He hates the feeling of terror that rushes over him but he hates the idea of being vulnerable a little bit more. But the softness of his pillows and the coolness of his cotton sheets remind him that he’s not sleeping on a hard cot with only a layer of fabric over his body. The light streams in through the half closed blinds, and Spencer judges by how brightly the sun shines in, it must be around 9:45 am.

He supposes that he prefers the way the sun’s rays paint horizontal bars across his face more than the vertical bars that cast gray shadows over his cell at Milburn Penitentiary.

It’s a day off from work, so Spencer didn’t set an alarm, instead allowing his mind and his body to catch up on some much needed rest. The nightmares have been getting better, but his dreams are still haunted by the way that he hardly recognizes himself anymore. Deciding that it will be a day spent in pajamas, Spencer goes to his bookshelf in his bedroom to pick out a couple of novels to read while he drinks his morning coffee and defrosts some of Luke’s strawberry pastries.

Before heading out of his room, Spencer stops himself in the doorway. He replays the events of last night. He declined to go out with the rest of the team, while he walked to his car he thought about the crickets telling the temperature, and he read over Y/N’s messages.

Y/N.

He promised he’d text her back in the morning about their book club. Last night, she didn’t seem to mind Spencer’s long messages and awkward phrasing. He still doesn’t really know how this Book Buddy thing would work, but since he found Y/N’s number on the flyer, he can only assume that she knows what to do. He leaps on his bed, landing with thud on his belly, to grab his phone that charges on his nightstand.

Spencer settles at his kitchen table, a cup of steaming hot Dark Roast coffee in a Captain Spock mug in one hand and, surprisingly, his phone in the other. He scrolls through the messages from last night, Y/N’s cat and emojis tempt a smile to Spencer’s face.

Not entirely sure how to start the conversation again, Spencer looks around for inspiration until his eyes land on a certain fish tank in the corner of his apartment. He snaps a quick picture of Leo and attaches it to the message.

Spencer: Good Morning from Leo & Spencer

Spencer sets down his phone after a moment when he realizes that Y/N is probably not going to answer him back in a couple of seconds. He takes out a strawberry pastry from his freezer and puts it into the toaster oven on a non-stick baking sheet. His thumbs run across the texture of the book he started on the plane ride after his and Luke’s ill fated poker game. It's a thin book of collected essays on the meaning of life. Camus, to Spencer, is a little pessimistic with his droning on about the meaninglessness of life. Though Spence has seen the absolute worst that humanity has to offer, he still has to believe that there’s a deeper meaning behind it all.

His toaster oven rings, altering him so that his toasted strawberry pastry is cooked. He plates his breakfast and pours himself another cup of coffee- he’ll need it to get through Camus’s section on Absurdism this early in the morning. But the flash of Spencer’s phone screen sends him reaching for his phone. Y/N replied to his message.

Y/N: hi leo!!!

Y/N: and you too Spencer :) Did you get a good night’s sleep. You got back late it seems.

Spencer, taking a bite of the strawberry pastry, ignores the burning sensation in his mouth. He types out a response to Y/N as he washes down the bite with a swing of coffee.

Spencer: I did, thank you. Can you tell me a little bit more about this book buddy thing. From what I gathered from the flyer it’s like a little book club of our own and we meet at the bookstore?

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to respond. The little gray dots pop up almost immediately after Spencer’s message is delivered.

Y/N: That’s about right! Is it okay if I call you? Kinda easier to talk that way 🤷‍♀️

Spencer reads over the message a couple of times. He doesn’t really like to talk on the phone and only does it out of necessity. He’s pretty sure that his voice is grating and his vocal fry is quite irritating. Yet, he finds himself replying “yes” to Y/N. Soon enough, his phone buzzes in his hand and Spencer has to remind himself how to pick up a call.

“Spencer? Um, this is Spencer Reid, right?” the voice says. It’s a woman’s voice and he can only assume that it’s Y/N, considering it is her phone number calling him.

“Y/N, uh hi. This is Dr. Spencer- I mean this is Spencer,” he says, nearly forgetting that Y/N doesn’t know him as Dr. Reid, but as just Spencer. It’s been a long time since someone has known him as Spencer.

“Oh great! It’s wonderful to finally have a voice to your name. So about these buddy reads. You seem to have a good grasp of what they are,” Y/N’s voice trails off a little bit at the end and Spencer finds it natural to fill in the silence.

“Yes, the flyer was quite informative. But I was wondering, do we read the same books or do we read different books?” Spencer asks, trying to restrain himself from scaring Y/N off. But something about her made him think that she didn’t scare easily.

Y/N chuckles lightly in the speaker of her phone, “that’s a good question, uh, I was actually going to ask you what you would rather. We can read the same books, or if it’s okay with you we can choose what the other would read for that week,”

“Oh really?” Spencer says, very much aware how his voice rises a couple of octaves. He can’t trust himself to hold back on rambling over the phone Y/N, so he resorts to using his strained, brittle voice that’s full of hesitation and restraint.

“That’s the plan, so whatcha thinking, Spencer,” Y/N says playfully, like she can sense that phone conversations maybe not make him feel at ease. There’s something so natural and silvery about her voice; it reminds Spencer of an audiobook reader. While he’s not too keen on audiobooks, he’s sure that he’d listen to anything she reads or has to say.

“Um, I think it sounds interesting to pick out books for each other. I tend to gravitate towards more technical books or even books that aren’t in English so, uh, I think it would be interesting to get out of my comfort zone,” Spencer says, cringing internally at using the word “interesting” twice in a couple of sentences.

“Well, as long as you don’t pick out something in physics or anything by Ayn Rand then I’d say we’re good,” Y/N says. Spencer thinks it’s a joke, but he’s not too sure how to respond.

“Will you still be my Book Buddy if I read 1 out of 2 of those?” Spencer asks, hoping she’d get that he is trying to continue the joke.

“Oh no Spencer please don’t tell me you’re an Ayn Rand fanboy,” she says, and by the airy way she laughs, Spencer ventures to guess his joke landed successfully.

“So,” Spencer starts, he never has made plans with people outside of his team, and on top of that, there’s something about Y/N’s quickness that makes him a little nervous to meet her.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I? Please Spencer, if you’re going to be my Book Buddy, you’re going to have to get used to me talking a lot, especially you pick out good books, which, I already have a feeling you’re going to be favorite Book Buddy,”

For once in his life, Spencer doesn’t really know how to respond. He lets out something in between a strangled laughter and a noncommittal chuckle.

“So,” Y/N says, mirroring Spencer’s earlier words, “so are you free tonight, I can meet you at the bookstore..”

Y/N’s voice trails off and Spencer leaps to finish her sentences. It doesn’t feel like his interjecting or interrupting, but like he’s snapping a puzzle piece together.

“Does 7 work?” “7 is great, Spencer. It’s a date,”

Those three little words send Spencer’s eyes flying wide open. He scrambles to come up with answer to louden the silence that falls, but he swears he can hear a string of quiet curses before Y/N manages to squeak out a small “goodbye,”

Y/N’s last words play back in Spencer’s ears. He scolds himself for being so weird and awkward that the very idea of going on a date with him would send Y/N in a tizzy. It’s not a date, because Spencer can’t think about it being a date. It’s not a date because of the looming photo above his mantle that freezes his future in the past. It’s not a date because of the nightmare of vertical bars that haunt his dreams

It’s not a date. It’s so not a date because Spencer would call Luke to come over to help him if it was.

“Hey Luke,” Spencer says, trying to control the nervous waves in his voice, “no man, I’m fine, it’s uh, easier if you just come over. I’m fine, really,”

Y/N: I really hope you're not an Ayn Rand fanboy 😉

It’s so not a date.

--THANK YOU FOR READING--

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