#until I can post the first chapter

[ghost-bxrd]

Prototype of the Mockingjay suit inspired by the versions of @cyrwrites and @investyourlove1019

For a short while Gothamites only know/refer to him as “Anti-Robin” or “Robin’s Evil Twin”.

Criminals quickly learn to be wary of this violent little gremlin and absolutely terrified of the Red Hood who follows in his wake.

“If it’s child shaped and doing flips off buildings it’s either Robin or his Evil Twin. Don’t stay to find out which, just fuckin’ run. At best you’re facing the Bat, at worst…”

— excerpt of a recording recovered from the smoking remains of one of Black Mask’s bases, The Antithesis of Magic

[dysfunctionalcreature]

obviously all the characters in Interview With The Vampire have such tragic pasts, and they each have so many good lines of dialogue that beautifully capture that trauma, but the one I just keep coming back to is Armand saying, voice shaking, "No one has painted me in over 400 years". It's the sadness and resentment in his voice, the implications of it, partly he just misses Marius I'm sure, but I really think that it's more than that, Armand is so deeply insecure, I can't help but think that maybe he doesn't consider himself worthy to be painted, he says "No one has painted me in over 400 years" and I can't help but hear "It has been 400 years since I was worth painting"

[skania]

AquaKane & OnK 148

Ohhhhh boy. I thought we would have to wait until July to get back to Aqua and Akane, so this chapter blindsided me lol

I know that the most on-the-nose reading of this chapter is that Aka is preparing to pull the classic romcom trope where the love interest gives up on the MC only so the rest of the cast can reassure her that she is the one who makes the MC happy, etc. etc. Considering that this is happening two chapters after Aqua told Kana that he has fun with her, it's like Aka is leading us all to believe that's where it's going. It's all very tropey and in-your-face and perfectly on brand with the way Aka has always written that particular ship.

So instead of talking about the obvious, I'd like to indulge my hopes for good writing and discuss the possibility of Aka actually subverting those tropes by playing this straight, regardless of how likely or unlikely it may be. Because if he does, then all of the stuff I've always loved about Aqua and Akane may just end up meaning something.

This is the possibility I'm rooting for against all odds after all, so I figure that I may as well go down throwing my ship the hurrahs it deserves while I can still do so lol

So buckle up because this is going to be long!

This chapter is a wild ride because it touches upon a lot of different things at once.

First, Aqua supposedly didn't want to be involved with Akane any longer in order to keep her safe.

However, when Akane announced that she would stop his plans — in other words, that she would stay involved in his life — Aqua looked giddy.

Look at him. When Aka allows him to actually emote and be an actual character, Aqua can be so funny!

True to form, in this chapter we see Akane come up to him and Aqua just... welcome her. In fact, he even asks her if she feels awkward around him. Instead of acting like they never dated (which is exactly what Akane has been doing, mind you), he himself brings their former relationship to the forefront.

There's a pause splitting his question in two, meaning that this is something Aqua hesitates to ask. Almost like he is scared of the reply. Or like he may be feeling a little awkward himself.

Which is no surprise, because that is how Aka himself presents their current era. Akane isn't just Akane and she isn't just a friend; she is Aqua's ex girlfriend, a title that never fails to bring attention to the fact that they used to be romantically involved.

From colleagues, to a fake couple, to partners, to a real couple and now they're in their Exes era. I've been waiting for Aka to explore all the tension and complexity that should bring, but he's been kind of busy off-paneling most things Aqua. Alas!

When I commented on Chapter 131, I mentioned that (to me) it feels like after Chapter 116, Akane found something to focus on. She isn't thinking about her relationship with Aqua, the only thing she has in mind is Aqua. Keeping him safe, helping him achieve happiness.

Even here during this chapter, she goes to him to ease his loneliness and remind him that he has people worth living for and that he deserves to be happy, but... nothing she says includes her. It's all about Aqua and the others, the others and Aqua.

I don't think it's a coincidence that Akane walks away from him with her eyes closed. Her mind is consumed with thoughts about wanting Aqua to be happy, and so she doesn't even notice the way he turns to look at her retreating back.

Until Kana shines her proverbial light on her, making Akane open her eyes.

The way the chapter is structured, it's like Kana is there to give Akane the answer — the missing piece to solve the Aqua Happiness Conundrum™ that Akane is so focused on. It's easy to think that the answer is predictably Kana herself, but since I'm here for Aqua and Akane, I'd like to believe the answer can be just as Kana says.

After all, who is prominently featured in what Aqua considers to be his happy days?

Kana's words are abrupt, yes, but the silver lining is that they reflect what Aqua himself has already told us.

Akane is front and center in what Aqua has come to know as happiness.

One may wonder: How TF does Kana know that though?? And it's a fair question that I'll talk about in a little bit, but maybe what matters most is that she knows it at all.

In a way, it feels almost like meta commentary. Like the story has finally reached the point where Aka can afford to go back to Aqua and Akane, and so he is getting ready to reap all the seeds he sowed during the previous arcs fingers crossed.

And this is the very first one of those seeds: Aqua was happy with Akane, but Akane never let herself think that she played an instrumental part in his happiness. She seems to think that it was just being freed from his revenge.

I'd even argue this right here was the true reason of their downfall. It wasn't Aqua finding out about the loophole and Akane not coming clean, it was the reason why she didn't come clean.

Aqua's happiness mattered so much to her that Akane failed to consider that risking her life for him was the last thing Aqua wanted.

So when I read the leaks and Kana's comment, my kneejerk reaction was to think Finally! because this could be setting in motion something I've been waiting for all along.

For Aqua and Akane to revisit their dynamic, their relationship, and come clean about what they mean to each other — wherever that may lead them.

Now, going back to Kana and that earlier question of how does she know? Perhaps she saw something we haven't been privy to (in classic Aka fashion). Or maybe it's as simple as Kana finally realizing that Aqua is deeply unwell, and knowing that the last time she saw him happy was back when he was dating Akane.

Considering the information Kana has and — especially — all the information she lacks, it's not far-fetched for her to come to the conclusion that Aqua's state is partly to blame on his break-up with Akane.

Once again, it would be easy for Aka to say that Kana got it wrong because she doesn't know anything about Aqua's revenge. But wouldn't it be ironic if Kana's lack of insight into that particular side of Aqua is what allows her to see something so simple that the very parties involved are missing it?

Regardless of the road she took to get there, I'd like to think the manga has given us enough reasons to believe Kana is not quite wrong.

After all, Aqua didn't get his black stars when he found out that his father was alive. It wasn't finding out about his father's identity that did it, either.

It was turning his back on Akane and on the naive thoughts of being happy in order to walk down the Revenge Road, on a chapter aptly titled "Going Astray", that gave Aqua his two black stars.

If that was the chapter where Aqua stepped away from the "correct path", so to speak, then it stands to reason to believe that Akane may be front and center in the path Aqua is meant to take.

Coincidentally, this was the last interaction Aqua and Akane were allowed to have before this chapter.

Another thing I find very important in c148 is the way Kana words her realization. Kana isn't telling all of this to Akane as an observer. She's saying it as someone who likes Aqua romantically.

This is in contrast to Akane and Aqua, who are two hot messes when it comes to identifying the nature of their own feelings.

Throughout the entire manga, we've never seen Akane put a label on the way she feels about Aqua. We've seen her realize why she feels the way she does, but we haven't seen her say what she feels, even though Aqua himself has questioned it.

Closest we got was this, and they broke up a chapter later.

Aqua has unexpectedly been more open than Akane in that regard, but... once again, they broke up literally one chapter after Aqua was at his most candid.

And considering everything that happened before and after that, I'm not sure if Akane actually got the message.

But before I get to that, there is an important difference in the way Akane was thinking of Aqua's happiness back then and the way she's thinking about it now.

Chapter 97 was even titled Together. Akane wanted to make Aqua happy, yes, and she also wanted to be together with him always. Just like Aqua wanted them to, according to his own admission: "I don't want to let go of these days... when you're by my side."

But all of that is missing in this most recent chapter. She no longer includes herself as part of the equation at all.

It truly feels like Akane is back to completely underestimating how much she means to Aqua.

Back when Aqua told her this:

Akane reacted like this:

And what is her reaction to Kana's words this chapter?

Every single time, Akane is taken aback by the thought of meaning more to Aqua than she thinks. Every. Single. Time.

This is sad and a little frustrating, but it's far from surprising. After all, this is how Akane has always interpreted their relationship:

As far as Akane is concerned, their relationship was a lie that was turning into truth little by little. She never dared to hope that he loved her back; hell, she even thought that he was attracted to Kana and wondered why he decided to date her instead.

To make matters worse, in Chapter 98, Aqua deliberately set the stage so that Akane's trust in him — the very basis of their relationship — would be broken.

So while Akane realizes that Aqua doesn't want to use her, she may have explained that away as Aqua being his kind self rather than as Aqua harboring any kind of special feelings towards her.

Regardless of how she interpreted his actions though, it seems likely that Akane thinks that she failed him.

She couldn't save him as his girlfriend and Aqua told her he would have nothing to do with her anymore, and so Akane is now trying to save him as something else entirely. Not even as a friend, because she hardly interacts with him at all.

She's trying to save him while staying away just like he wanted her to. While only stepping in when she deems it appropriate and/or necessary.

But is that really and truly what Aqua wants?

Most importantly, is that what Aqua needs?

This chapter suggests that may not be the case, and the rest of the manga agrees. Staying away is not how Akane saved Aqua little by little. This is how she did it:

That's why the way Kana worded her realization is important. It isn't only that Kana — the very girl Akane thought Aqua was attracted to — is bringing romance to the forefront and thus setting the stage for the nature of Akane's (and Aqua's) feelings to be finally cleared up.

It's also that Kana is showing Akane that it's possible to own her feelings while being selfless about his happiness.

After all, the ball right now is in Akane's court. In the state he is now, Aqua would never ever allow himself to chase his own happiness. Even when he thought he was free to do so, he felt that Akane deserved better than to be held back by him.

So all in all, it's like with this chapter alone Aka has laid the groundwork to address all the AquaKane elephants in the room. Just in time for the very season that will be showing AquaKane in all its glory to all the anime-only watchers, at that.

In each of the last arcs, Aqua has reconciled with someone important to him. Kana and Ruby are fully back in his life now, yet he isn't doing any better. Maybe it's finally Akane's turn to try again.

So yes, Kana's change of heart is so abrupt that it may be a red herring leading to a very predictable end.

But since I've made it this far, I may as well keep hoping for the opposite to be true: maybe, just maybe, Aka is planning to tie all of this together and lead it to a satisfying conclusion. I can only hope that is the case, because it's where I feel that the writing is at its best.

Besides, if "giving up on Aqua" and "turning his black star white" are so-called "winning flags", well... Akane did both of those first 😂

[karliahs]

it's been weeks since i posted fic i know but i am still working on stuff...currently a soft place to land, extremely soft dadzawa de-aging fic of my heart

draft is currently sitting at 15k and that's with most of it in notes-form still. each chapter i think is gonna be approx 4-5k i think? and 5 chapters, so 20k-25k, which is...insane to me, as someone who only recently broke 10k on a single work. this is the power of writing about Being Nice to Kids i guess, a topic that has my whole entire heart

i'd like to have it up by the end of august but we'll see...unfortunately i know from experience that if i post stuff chapter by chapter before the whole thing is done then i become inexplicably very stressed, so none of it is going up until i've finished the whole thing. but i don't think i'll be able to resist posting snippets along the way bc i'm not used to this level of delayed gratification

[acourtofquestions]

Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:

She'd rebuild it—what she had been.

Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.

Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."

"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.

"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."

"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.

Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.

Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.

At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.

In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.

She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.

Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."

A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.

She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."

Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."

"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."

Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.

"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."

"I do know."

"And?"

"And what do you wish me to say?"

She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"

"If what?"

"If you wish it wasn't so."

His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"

She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.

It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.

"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."

She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.

"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."

She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"

"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."

"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."

"Then it is her choice, not yours."

Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."

"What did she show you?" A breathless question.

Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."

She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."

His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"

She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.

Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."

She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.

"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.

"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."

A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"

"We'll face it together," he swore again.

"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.

Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."

"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."

She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.

"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."

She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.

She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"

"I thought you might want to be asked first."

"That never stopped you before."

"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.

She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."

He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.

"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."

The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.

"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.

Together.

[sharkneto]

hi!!!! I was rereading the shifting mirrors and holding it together since you finished joining together recently (it’s SO good, it’s so so SO good, your writing is always so well done and flows so well) and I had a couple questions. Sorry if this is weird - if you don’t want to answer them feel free to ignore this ask, I’m just curious!

1.) did you start writing joining together while you were still posting holding it together? a lot of the details I noticed in HIT were referenced in JT, and I was just kind of like ‘that’s a LOT of details to remember’ so I was wondering if you were working backwards !!

2.) have you ever thought about what happens at the end of HIT? do you think they would actually end up stopping the apocalypse, or would the commission try to come and correct them? I thought that was interesting - that the commission said they were done with five, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re done with the offshoot timeline ; if they hadn’t interfered prior, that would mean they were still on track for an apocalypse, right ? I like to speculate about this. with sheer strength of will I think that five would probably end up stopping it, mostly because he knows how to work through his rage rather than act on impulse again - and now he has the knowledge to try and connect the others so that viktor doesn’t feel so isolated.

3.) what was your favorite part of writing the story / what kept you motivated to keep it going ? I’ve started a couple chaptered fics, and then I get three or four chapters in and lose it completely.

I love, love, love the world youve created - I love the characters youve built and the personalities behind them. the dedication youve held on to to keep the series going is admirable; I can barely write 20k, much less hundreds of thousands of words. I was actually thinking of asking your permission to maybe write an offshoot of your offshoot (it might be the thing that gets me back into writing for tua) but idk if I’d have the imagination or creativity to make it nearly as compelling and fun as yours. Congratulations and great work on finishing it !! <333

this got long - feel free to ignore it if it’s overstepping or weird, lol !! I hope you’re doing well - have a great night, shark :)

Hey Toby! Glad you enjoyed it all so much and thanks for the kind words! It's a little surreal to have it done, JT has been a WIP almost as long as I've been into TUA.

I started writing JT before HIT. This whole series was supposed to be a Just For Me Fun Project while I rotted alone during the pandemic that I ended up sharing with permission from orsumfenix and encouragement from friends. I was a bit into JT, I think, when I started thinking about how fun it would be to get more siblings in here, and those musing became HIT. HIT got posted first because it had a lower barrier for entry, with more focus on the Hargreeves we know instead of OCs. So, because the stories were written more-or-less simultaneously, it was easy to reference one or set up something for the other. Working forwards and backwards, with the end of JT already written (in a rough draft) when I was writing HIT, so I knew where Rob, Sarah, and Number were coming off of at that point. (The tiny detail I'm most fond of is Allison in HIT noting that Number broke his nose at some point, and then in JT we get to see the stupid scenario in which he broke his nose.)

(rest under a readmore because I ramble)

I do have thoughts on what happens after HIT! More of a time jump, to Number's Apocalypse Week, and I've got words in a WIP started about that (and a few snips shared in my snip tag, although some I think I've changed some of the details, now). It goes... less smoothly than it should, for a guy who has (almost) all the details he needs. If motivation continues, I'll share that eventually. If it doesn't, I'll word-vomit an outline so at least people who are interested can know how it goes down. I don't see the Commission coming back - the people obsessed with Five are dead, and the organization is done with him. They don't have the resources to spare to keep going after him, so at least in Five and Number's timelines, they're out of the Commission's scope.

What kept me going was a combo of things. 2020-2022ish, I had a fuckton of time. I only worked three days a week because of covid protocols, I couldn't go anywhere because of covid, and I couldn't see anyone because of covid. I had four days a week to fill, and a lot of that time got filled with writing - all of HIT and the first draft of JT happened during this time, plus all the other fics I published throughout that time. What kept me going is that I was having a ton of fun writing and fun interacting with other people about my fics. Love, love, love talking about them (so never apologize for an ask like this, every fic writer is begging for an excuse to ramble like this). I liked thinking about the characters, thinking about Number doing mundane things I was doing made them more interesting, I liked thinking about Rob and Sarah's little romcom life, and I'm fascinated by Five's whole deal. My favorite part of writing these is Five (both versions of him) - thinking about him and how he'd react to x or y, how others react to him. I love that, at his core, he's kind of a loser. I love what an incredible vehicle for grief he is. He's a character of all time for me.

How to keep going, I don't have an easy answer for it. Some people outline, so they have the skeleton of what they're doing and where they're going. I'm not one of those people, I have an idea of the general shape and trajectory of the story and go from there, splitting up chapters as needed. I think it's important to not force it, or the writer's block gets worse and then you're stressed about writing instead of having fun with it, and that's no good - the point is to have fun. If you run out of steam, you run out of steam and you have to take a six-month hiatus until life calms down and you have words again (as a hypothetical example). Don't be afraid to poke at other ideas even if you have a giant fic unfinished. For having 25 fics on AO3, I have 35 other WIP files on my computer. Some of them have a couple hundred words, some have tens of thousands of words, some of them I'll come back to finish, some of them I won't. Such is life - some ideas have legs, others don't. I don't set out thinking "Oh this fic is going to be 50k words with 10 chapters". I just write until it feels done; sometimes that's 2k words, sometimes it's almost 200k words. The point I'm trying to make, here, is that we're all just fucking around having fun, and words flow easier when I'm remembering that and not stressing about being done or trying to finish for a self-imposed deadline. You've got it :)

Feel free to write in my little world! Would love to see what others are thinking about, what stuck with them. Just give me (and orsumfenix, if you use Number) a shoutout if you share it! And don't sell yourself short - I'm sure you've got great ideas and the chops to write them out. Don't compare yourself to me; you might write in a world I helped shape, but you've got your own voice and style to give it. I, for one (if you end up writing and sharing it), would love to hear your version of it all :)

[solar-halos]

for this mood board monday, i present yet another ficboard. the board in question is of franka by @ongreenergrasses

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

if you title this you could post the first few chapters already!!! (for the wip ask game lol)

WIP Ask Game! tw: abuse implied

But Christian isn’t looking at her face. His gaze is currently fixed on Satine’s wrist where—Satine notices as if in slow motion and with a lurch of her stomach—the sleeve of her coat has ridden up and a nasty purple bruise is on full display. Unable to adjust her sleeve with her hands full of coffee cups, Satine rotates her arm but it’s too late; the damage has been done. “Are you alright?” Christian asks, reaching for her arm. His touch is as warm as Satine remembers but she flinches back from it as if it’s scalding hot. “I’m fine.” “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” Christian asks, searching her eyes. “Not at all,” Satine hastens to reassure him, realizing too late that she probably should have taken that excuse when it was offered to her, that flinching away from something that didn't hurt is suspicious while flinching away from something that did is reasonable. “Nothing to worry about,” Satine tries next, “just one of the hazards of live theatre. The show has a lot of lifts and I bruise easily. You’ll see tonight—the dancing is incredible,” Satine says, trying to get him back on topic of opening night.

[jamietwat]

This is how easily distracted my writing focus has been in the last twelve hours

[catinasink]

hey guys

yes or no

rq

[writingboutbrainrot]

All of Me Loaves All of You [ch2]

[ch0 | NOW ON A03]

Today was the big day. Louise was woken up way too early for her taste, 6 a.m., to go to the wedding venue. To save on costs the whole thing was very DIY - aside from renting a ballroom and hiring a caterer, no way was Bob Belcher catering at his own daughter’s reception and missing out on the important stuff. Besides, he still hated catering. 

So Louise had to be up at the buttcrack of dawn to go and help make sure everything was perfect. Which of course she was the perfect person for the overseeing of...just not for another few hours. Or at least 5 or so shots of espresso. Which she halfway downed on the drive with her parents and Gene.

Zeke’s cousin Leslie was already unfolding chairs outside when the Belchers arrived, a gaggle of children running around and not really helping. Who was helping though was a very tired looking blonde. Louise grimaced as Logan spun around, swinging a chair like Leatherface as he tried to not hit any of the children dashing about. He was very off balance and Louise sipped her caffeine and hoped she’d see him fall. Maybe he’d twist his ankle and someone else would have to stand it as best man. Leslie would be a suitable choice, he could even dance.

No such luck. Brown eyes squinted as the man righted himself and managed to set the chair down without incident. They then looked down at her just as dark coffee as the blonde started walking over with one of those smarmy little smirks of his.

“You gonna help with the labor or just stare at the workers?” he chided, arms crossed and that left brow of his raised so high Louise thought it may get lost in his bangs. Not bangs she could hide under like an umbrella if it rained, but a jungle that her fingers would probably get ensnared in if she- 

She blinked. Then she scoffed. “Unlike yooou, I have the all important job of making sure the bride doesn’t lose her shit. This means that I don’t have to do manual labor, thank you very much.”

Logan rolled his eyes and huffed a little, but then he motioned to the building. “Bride-not-zilla is in there with Susmita already.” He looked like he was about to say something else, but Louise spoke first,

“Great well you keep doing a mediocre job out here and I’m gonna go crush it in the dressing room.” 

She pushed past him, a little bit of coffee splashing his shirt and giving a “ha!” when he called out her name in an accusing whine. 

Dodging way too rambunctious children, Louise crossed the lawn and the ballroom. Then she cracked the door open for a decency check before sliding in. Linda had beelined when they arrived and was flitting about while Susmita handed a robed Tina a thermos.

“Bit early for vodka ain’t it?” Louise cracked. Her sister gave a sleepy glare. She shrugged and muttered, “Tough crowd,” and went to the pile of bags. She and her mom had put their stuff in the same bag and now was the time for Louise to dig around. They had a couple of hours before they were needed for the photoshoots, but Louise knew if she wanted to avoid manual labor she should get ready asap.

“Louise don’t you wanna lounge for a bit in the fancy robes?” Linda asked, waving a fluffy pink robe around. The question stopped Louise in her tracks. She stared at the cloth in question as it beckoned like a siren. If she put that on then not only would she not be forced out of the room, but she also wouldn’t have to use any effort to make herself up much earlier than she needed.

“Yes Mother, I would like to lounge in the fancy robes, thank you.” Louise agreed while putting down the bag. She took the robe from her mom and slid it over her pj’s. The microfiber fleece lulled her into a sense of security. How can Tina be grumpy in this?! she wondered for a moment. But then she remembered how little sleep everyone had gotten.

“Alright so. What’s the game plan Sus?” She decided it was going to be much better directing all inquiries to the bride’s maid who had it all together.

-x-x-x-

An hour of sitting around later and Louise found herself growing….bored. She was currently hanging upside down on the settee, scrolling aimlessly on her phone. Her coffee was gone and replaced with a mimosa flute. Which she was nursing because she felt like 8 am was too early for alcohol but Linda was still always ready to get a party started.

“Besides, Louise, a mimosa is a morning drink. It’s perfectly acceptable,” the older woman insisted while lifting her own flute up.

“It’s a brunch drink, Mom,” she countered with a smile. “Brunch starts at 11, 10 if you’re being generous.”

“9 am if you’re in the Philippines,” Susmita chimed in without looking away from her tablet. Louise heard a Level Up come from the device and caught Susmita grin.

Linda let out a tchk. “Ahhhh you girls and your cement-ticks.”

“Semantics, Mom,” Tina joined in. Her tea was finally kicking in, she still wasn’t allowed to have coffee after that whole espresso episode she had as a teen.

“What did I say?”

“Nevermind, Mrs. Belcher. Hey, do you know when Gretchen will be here?” Susmita asked, expertly redirecting the subject. Louise admired that. It was nice to have someone else who could handle the family.

And like magic, the door opened to reveal….Tammy and Jocelyn. Louise groaned the smallest amount. The two may have grown up over the years, and sure Louise and Tammy have had their fair share of “same wavelength” moments but... 

“Tinaaa, girl we’re heereee!” Tammy exclaimed with way too much energy for 8 in the morning. She made a type of shrill sound that Louise wasn’t sure she could describe. “I can’t believe you’re getting married today!”

“Yeaah you’re, like, making it so official today,” Jocelyn added in the same lilted monotone she’s always had. Her head turned to the minibar next. “Ooo is that orange juice?”

Some things don’t change and it was just too early. So Louise took this as her cue to stop hiding inside and flipped herself off the settee. “Whelp looks like you’ve got enough people to hold down the fort in here T, I’m gonna make sure everything’s going smooth on the battlefield,” she announced while straightening out her robe.

Before Tina could protest, Louise gave her older sister a quick kiss to the top of her head which was graciously washed this morning, and headed out the door with her mimosa in hand.

She didn’t immediately regret it, even if she had to quickly dodge a gaggle of scamps rushing by. But she did so without spilling mimosa, so that was a win. Smirking to herself, she noticed Gene shuffling by.

“Yo Gene, where’s the fire?” she called, already heading toward them. 

The middle Belcher looked around without stopping. “Oh Louise!” They gave an appraising up and down glance before pointing. “I do hope that I have a robe waiting for me in either dressing room.” When Louise just raised her eyebrow, they shrugged and turned back to watch where they were going. “The fire’s at Alex’s van. Not a real fire, this time, just that the equipment is there and it needs to be-” they flailed an arm in the general direction of the building, “there.”

Louise now regretted coming outside. Or at least regretted blindly following her sibling. Carrying equipment while holding a drink was going to be way more work than she planned on doing.

“Bob why don’t you trade m-” a voice grabbed Louise’s attention, shaking her from her musings. Not that she’d admit just whose voice did that. A little ways in front of them Bob was at a wizard painted van with Alex and Logan, waving the blonde away with one arm and clutching something that looked hefty in the other.

“I got it, Logan, don’t-” pause for straining noise, “don’t worry about it.”

Gene and Louise shared an eye roll and hurried a little faster to the group. Louise shouted out, “Dad come on you’re one wrong breath away from dying at any moment, let the middle aged guy throw out his back instead.”

Close enough now, Louise could see Logan huff and roll his eyes. “I’m not even 30, Four Ears.”

“And?” she quipped back, not having any real backup. Which she cleverly hid with a sip of her drink. Seeming to pick his battles, Logan just shook his head. Louise thought she saw the corner of his lips tug up. But that’s something neither of them would admit.

Turning her attention back to her elderly father, Louise tutted. “For real, Dad, let someone else get that. I’ll trade you,” she said while holding out her half empty flute. The fast action caught the patriarch off guard and he precariously handed the cargo over in exchange. Louise finished the transaction by taking a careful step towards Logan. 

“And now you take this,” she chimed while lifting the luggage by the handle. When the almost-30 year old took it without a second thought Louise prided herself on not cackling right away. The double take he did when he realized what happened caused her to burst, however.

Of course she had expertly weaseled her way into carrying the smallest thing there was. “You were really going to make the father of the bride carry a cd case? You monster,” she teased. 

Logan let out a single bark of a laugh. “You should’ve been out here earlier when I handed him the extension cord.” The twinkle in his eye as Louise reached for imaginary pearls was not to be missed. And Louise thought she caught that too. “This is the last of it though. So classic Louise-timing.”

“Pssh, it’s an art, really,” the young woman boasted. She tried to block out Gene and Alex behind them. But when your sibling only knows stage whisper as a lowest setting that was difficult, especially when that skill is extended to their platonic soulmate.

It was Alex who spoke the question, “Do you think we’re going to perform at their wedding soon?” 

And Gene who answered, “Not for another 7 years.”

“Right, right. In their 30’s,” Alex concluded, referring back to Gene’s ancient prophecy. 

For the millionth time in 3 hours, Louise rolled her eyes. Gene said a lot of things off the cuff, and that was just one of those things. Her sibling was not a prophet, and she was never going to reconnect and marry Logan Barry Bush in her 30’s. For one thing, they had already reconnected now, before Louise’s 20’s. So that was already not going well in Gene’s favor. 

Still, she cast a quick glance at Logan and noticed that his face was just the slightest shade of pink. An impish smile took her face.

“I don’t know Logan, I think we should see if Hall and Oates would get back together for us. If they’re still alive in 7 years that is,” she said a little louder than normal. The blonde had the briefest moment of confusion before that rusty gear in his brain clicked over.

“Awh but I was really looking forward to Beyonce,” he pouted.

“I don’t think we’d be able to afford her baby,” she consoled. Cue the indignant gasps from the peanut gallery in the back, and a confused noise from Bob up front. Choosing to leave the former suffering, Louise called out to the latter, “Nothing, Pops!” Then shared a snicker with Logan.

And that really helped pass the steps back to the main area. Thankfully because Louise was thinking that she needed a refill-osa after that. God maybe I am turning into Mom a little. 

“So has anyone checked on Zeke?” she asked, setting down the cd case and opening the door to the building. Gene went right on past her, presumably to cash in on their own pink fuzzy robe. Without answering, so she assumed that was a “no”. So she looked directly at Logan.

“Yeah I’ve been checking in between tasks. He’s got the rest of the party in there with him for company.”

Satisfied with the answer, Louise gave a nod and went inside. Sure enough, Gene was walking out of the “girl’s room” in a fluffy pink robe and two flutes of whatever concoction they made. Louise knew one was non alcoholic for Alex, so it was probably just orange juice and Spryt. The two passed with a nod. However Gene paused and caught Louise’s attention.

“You’re not really gonna hire someone else to do music for your wedding, are you?”

The youngest Belcher sighed with a smile. “Of course not. If I ever get married you’re the first person I’m hiring. Third person I call. If I don’t dual-call Tina and Millie first I’m pretty sure they’d materialize and murder me.”

Gene laughed and gave a thoughtful, “That does sound like them.” Then they were out the door and waving one of the flutes around, splashing the contents everywhere. Louise chuckled and re-entered the bridal world once more.

Before she knew it, it was wedding time.

[ ch3]

[novelconcepts]

Taissa Turner has more than enough problems without adding time travel to the mix. Van Palmer agrees with this sentiment. The universe, as usual, makes its own choices and leaves them to clean up the mess. or What do you do when, while standing in your ex-girlfriend's apartment, the teenage version of that ex materializes and starts to scream?

There is absolutely nothing special about the morning it happens. Nothing. Taissa wishes otherwise. Taissa wishes she could comb through the details and come up with an answer. Something, anything, that would make a lick of sense.

She needs her life to make sense. But her life, maddeningly, just keeps on spiraling out of control.

Evidence the first: she is standing in a bedroom when it happens. Not her own bedroom. Not even the bedroom of a friend, a family member, her son. When it happens, she is standing in a bedroom she should know jack shit about.

Van Palmer’s bedroom.

Van Palmer’s bedroom, in an apartment over a VHS rental shop, in Ohio.

Van Palmer’s bedroom, belonging to a version of her ex Taissa hasn’t seen in twenty years.

[sideblogforcrimpy-plus]

Rinse; Repeat

Words: 4,478, chapter one of probably two.

Rated: Handle with care, cw suicidal thoughts/discussion, canon typical violence, hints at abuse/bullying

Summary: Spencer and Derek meet before either of them are in the BAU. Spencer is hesitant as a deer to be close and all Derek wants is to be close (so does Spencer). Spencer is clearly Troubled and Derek just wants to love him softly, honestly. Like filtered afternoon sunlight and sepia filters.

but for real I just, I saw a post that made me laugh and go 'ahaha, unless?' and then sat down uncomfortably on the floor for three hours and wrote this.

For my own comfort/entertainment, Derek and Spencer are closer in age than my recent google search would lead me to believe. Thank (●'◡'●)

---- 2003

Derek was having a truly sucky day. The academy was rough, and as good as he was at all the physical stuff, there were some real smart people and he was so scared that he was all brawn and no brain. Not that he’d readily use the word ‘scared’ to describe himself if he could help it, but he was.

But realistically, he did get this far. So he did have some of the brain, but was it enough? Had he set his sights too high on the BAU?

Still, the doubt and insecurity wasn’t going to have him quit early. Partly because he really, really wanted this, but also partly because what would he tell his family if he’d put so much time into this and failed?

They’d comfort him and say they’re proud; he knows it. But would he be proud?

He doesn’t want to find out.

Dead tired despite the lack of physical training that day, he walked through the house and out to the balcony, only part stopping to shed his jacket and backpack.

The sun was long gone by now, and the stars were too hidden in such a built up area, but he braced himself with his arms on the railing and stretched his neck, trying to relax.

God, how many people even got through the academy each year?

“Chances are, if you’re already in the academy, you’ll come out the other side.”

God?

Had he asked that aloud?

Derek just about jumped out of his skin, training be damned. He was on the top floor and roof access was blocked. He must have made some sort of noise, because the sad, quiet voice came again.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I’m not- I wasn’t… Startled.” Derek rubbed his forehead, hoping his voice didn’t sound it; startled. He wasn’t sure he’d heard that organically in conversation, more something you come across in text, in books and things.

“Oh. Sorry for assuming?” The speaker was hesitant, like they’d started apologising before they really knew why. Curious, and not thrilled someone had roof access and it wasn’t the guy (and his sister) who had the top floor apartment, Derek leaned out over the railing and twisted his neck, trying to see who answered him.

Before he could get a glimpse, he heard them step back.

How close to the edge was he? He watched as a bit of rubble fell past him and to the concrete below.

“I don’t think that’s something you need to apologise for, man. How’d you get up there, anyway? I was told we weren’t allowed because they don’t have railings. Or insurance, I think.”

“Well, that makes sense. Although a fall from a five story building isn’t guaranteed to be fatal; you’re better off on the eighth floor for that. But then again, there have been people that survived from even that height so, you can’t really win, can you? If you’re scared of heights or something.”

Derek’s curiosity took a quick dive into concern that sped right down to worry.

“Now I think you got that the wrong way around, better off on the lower floors if there’s no railing, right?”

There was a long pause, and Derek wondered if he’d be able to get up onto the roof in a reasonable amount of time if he had a sense of urgency pushing him.

“Perhaps. Can you imagine the injuries you’d be left with after surviving the fall?” He heard a foot scuff the ground above him and thought he’d started sweating despite the cool breeze. “It’d really suck to not have insurance then, huh? As the building owner, I mean.”

“Okay man, well, that’s a dark topic. And since there’s no railing, or maybe no seats up there either, why don’t you join me on my balcony instead? I might even be able to find a beer or something for you.”

“It’s not safe to go into a stranger’s house.”

“It’s not safe to think about people surviving and not surviving falls while you’re alone on a rooftop, close to the edge, and there’s no railing.”

“Well… Perhaps that’s a reasonable counterpoint.”

And that’s how Derek started becoming friends with a bundle of limbs and greasy hair that hid an incredible but haunted mind.

–

Spencer didn’t have a phone, so he’d just show up at Derek’s apartment intermittently. Well, his and Sarah’s. His mother had put money towards them renting it for the duration of Derek’s time at the academy and Sarah’s short term study since they lined up almost the same, with him likely finding some place more permanent for himself after.

He didn’t do well in the claustrophobic, shared dorms of the academy so would escape to the apartment when he could, and Sarah was completing her course close enough to make the apartment almost worth it. 

It had two shoebox rooms, and they had to share a bathroom, but it still had two rooms so it was a step up from the low bar the academy set. But she was out often with friends, study, and a part time job while he was still largely sleeping at the dorm, so they hardly saw each other.

He’d come back to Spencer hanging out near the block only a couple times; he didn’t seem to like loitering, like he was concerned Derek’s neighbours would get suspicious.

More often, though, Derek would go out onto the balcony and make some sort of noise, and Spencer would respond from above. Over time, Derek was relieved to note that Spencer was usually not so close to the edge as he was the first night.

But most of the time, unfortunately, was not all of the time.

Spencer wasn’t all that interested in drinking, but he was interested in sharing whatever he’d learned about recently. He absolutely did not share much about himself at all.

Despite how private Derek felt as a person though, he found he was sharing quite a lot about himself with Spencer. It was hard not to, inviting Spencer into a place he and his sister were living in though. She’d met him in passing once or twice, and had commented after he left, thankfully, about how shy he seemed to be.

Spencer was a bit like butter from the fridge; he needed time to soften up every single time he came over to Derek’s.

His most recent obsession, to Derek's suffering, had been body farms. After finding out that Derek was studying at the academy (which he was loath to share on account of those ever-present insecurities), Spencer had told him that he was interested in criminal behaviour, among other related things.

Not in a ‘watch true crime documentaries just for the nightmares, apparently’ kind of way, but more to work out the why, and sometimes guess at the how, of everything. He’d dropped stupid time into geographical profiling, in Derek’s opinion, for someone who wasn’t pursuing a career in a related field.

“And they have one, a body farm that is, in East Tennessee. Did you know that they run ten week courses there? Something they’ve done recently is watching for changes in hair for a body left in a car for two months. That’s so specific, isn’t it? Hair changes in a car? Although it’s safe to assume they’re obviously looking for more at the same time.”

“Obviously,” Derek agreed.

Spencer was way too excited for the topic at hand.

Derek continued before Spencer went back to talking about something like maggot life cycles. “Okay, so if I get through to being an FBI agent and I see a body in a car, you’ll be the first person I call.”

“You mean when. I don’t have a phone.” Spencer’s lips had a little curve, like he was self-conscious of smiling still but couldn’t help it fully.

“Right, right. Can you tell me how to summon you then, or will I just have to come here and call out at the roof until you appear?”

Now that was definitely a smile. Why did that feel just as good as high test scores?

The next time Derek was at the apartment, Spencer didn’t show. But there was a phone number written on a paper plane that had been thrown onto his balcony. Three, actually, and one he picked up on the way to the apartment that was stuck in a sad, over-pruned and under-watered hedge out front. How many had Spencer made that Derek didn’t find?

Eleven, it turns out. Spencer was a horrible shot, but Derek liked watching his long fingers folding the paper in what was ‘the most aerodynamic plane folding method’ the next time he was over. It felt a little silly to challenge him on it, especially since Derek knew fuck all about the aerodynamics of paper planes. And Spencer called him out on it.

“Superior hand-eye coordination doesn’t mean your plane folding method is superior, it just means you’re good with your hands.”

Derek wiggled his eyebrows, but continued speaking after he let the flush of Spencer’s cheeks sit for a moment.

“So you want me to throw one of yours, to see if I can do it better with your method?”

“It’s a reasonable request. You can’t test two theories for quality results if the testing methods are different.”

“You’re a sore loser, you know that?”

“You’re an unfair winner, did you know that?”

“So you admit I’m a winner?”

Spencer felt terrible that his next plane hit Derek in the eye, so Derek only milked it for half the time he would have liked to.

Spencer shoved his shoulder when Derek finally caved and laughed, indignant.

“You were playing it up!”

“It’s paper! It can’t hurt me that bad.”

“It did hit your eye. They might be the fastest healing body part, but they’re not impervious.”

“Pretty boy, if you want to kiss it better, I won’t stop you. But you don’t need to worry that much about it.”

Derek saw that sweet rush of colour on Spencer’s neck and cheeks, and the smile he was trying to hide before now took a shy edge as he tried to look casual.

“Well, if I injured you, I should do what I can to help.”

His voice was so quiet that Derek almost missed what he said. He tilted his head in question, raising a brow while trying to figure out if this was more word-based flirting or if one of them would actually take it further for once.

Spencer’s eyes were focused on his fingers, picking at lint that certainly wasn’t on the leg of his pants but held his gaze anyway. His eyes flickered up to Derek’s face though, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips just after.

“Well, you’re the doctor out of the two of us, what do you think I need?”

“I’m not a medical doctor.” Spencer’s voice seemed to be getting quieter, but Derek liked that his gaze was flicking more to Derek’s lips now.

“Maybe so, but I bet you know more about first aid than I do, especially with that fear of germs you got.”

“Me not shaking your hand is normal. The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.”

Derek almost laughed at how embarrassed Spencer looked at that line, but knew if he did Spencer would think he was laughing at him and might take offense.

“So I should kiss you goodbye when you leave? Doctor Reid, who knew you could be so forward?”

“That’s not what I was saying! I just-”

Derek held up his hands, placating, while Spencer seemed to flap his. “Now now handsome, I didn’t say I was opposed.”

Derek thought he was floating when Spencer, so quickly it was barely a kiss, pressed his lips to Derek’s cheek when he left that night.

–

The next time Derek heard Spencer’s voice from above his balcony, he was almost back to his subdued, distanced self from when they first started speaking. It was over an hour before Spencer let Derek coax him inside. He was shocked when Spencer came to his front door, hair lank and pulled forward to try and cover his eye and cheek that were dark with bruising.

“Spencer, what happened?” He ushered the younger man in, directing him to the couch.

“Nothing. An accident. What were you saying about the fitness test?”

“You’re not interested in fitness tests, what happened?” He tried to bring his hand up to Spencer’s cheek, tilt his head up into the light and assess the damage, but Spencer shied away from him, getting up and heading to the kitchen instead.

“I’m interested in the fitness test.”

“I’m not. Since when are you interested in that?”

“Since you’re the one talking about them.” Derek tried not to feel warm and fuzzy with that comment. Spencer was being genuine, the man was a terrible liar, but he gives away shy truths when he wants to distract.

Derek leaned against the tiny kitchen counter while Spencer turned the kettle on.

“I thought you didn’t have tea at night because of the caffeine.”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll sleep tonight anyway, so I may as well enjoy a tea.”

Derek scrutinised him, wordlessly getting a still sealed pack of decaf tea from the cupboard and putting it down beside Spencer’s hand on the counter.

“You know this isn’t truly decaffeinated? It’s just lower in comparison to other teas.”

Derek stayed quiet and watched as Spencer started to squirm under his gaze. He turned then to face Derek, a frown on his face that softened when he saw whatever emotion Derek’s expression wasn’t hiding. Concern, probably.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t use your behavioural training on me.”

“I thought I wouldn’t feel the need to with you.”

Spencer’s lips pressed into a thin line before he turned back to the kettle, mumbling. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

When Derek put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, Spencer jumped, then looked guilty.

“Sorry. I don’t-” He looked at Derek’s hand, which he’d pulled back like he'd been burnt when Spencer flinched at his touch. “I don’t mind.” He wrung his hands, nervous or something like it and unable to look at Derek with that soft red on his cheeks again, marred by bruises. “I don’t mind. The contact, if it’s you. But I’d rather not be surprised by it just now.”

“I get it, pretty boy, and I’m sorry.” He held out his hands, palms up, for Spencer to take. Spencer’s hands shook a little, and he’d forgotten to pour water into his mug now.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, I won’t ask how you got- that.” He jutted his chin to try and gesture at Spencer’s purpled skin while his hands were occupied. “But is what I see all you have, or is there more?”

Spencer bit his lip, watching his own thumb as he rubbed it against Derek’s fingers.

“Spencer, please.”

Spencer shrugged, still unwilling to meet Derek’s eyes.

“It’s not just that. My face. It’s-...” He lifted their joined hands, but didn’t let go of Derek’s to gesture any better. Instead, he pressed their hands to Derek’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt, then slowly moved them down and around a little to Derek’s sides. The movement was awkward, but Derek appreciated the tight grip on his hands, and the touch Spencer was initiating, and the information being shared all in the way Spencer was capable of.

“It’s all over, isn’t it pretty boy?”

Spencer hesitated, almost nodding before deciding to try and move on. “I don’t know if I qualify for that. Not normally, or especially now.”

The shy smile was back, and too self-deprecating for Derek. But fighting Spencer on that too strong right now would push him away, so he let some of that anger slide away before he spoke.

“You callin’ me a liar, handsome?”

“No, I think I’m calling you a sweet-talker.”

“But a lying sweet talker, hot stuff?” Spencer pursed his lips as he looked up at Derek, finally, to suppress a smile.

“I’m starting to think you have a biased opinion.”

“I’m starting to think you do too, although on the other side of the spectrum. Why are you so hard on yourself?” 

Spencer squeezed Derek’s hands before letting them go, turning back to pour hot water in his mug. Derek bit back a sigh when Spencer changed the subject again.

“So only two weeks before you’re done at the academy, huh?”

Throughout the night, as Spencer started melting into his more comfortable self the longer he was there, he was less aware of the bruising on his face. It wasn’t until he caught his reflection, or Derek staring, or felt it twinge when he smiled too wide, that he remembered it and grew self-conscious again. That he pushed his hair back in the way of it like if Derek couldn’t see it then Spencer could forget he was injured.

He’d foregone contact lenses and worn his glasses that night, like he did most nights, and Derek thought it might be so it felt like there was another barrier between his bruises and the rest of the world.

Derek wanted to kiss them better, and then all the other hurts Spencer seemed to have. And Spencer sure seemed to have a lot of hurts.

Hurts like how his expression tightened when Derek asked about his childhood, his parents, his friends, or his time at school. How Derek, in the earlier days, made a comment about Spencer missing social cues, and heard a bitter ‘well I can’t pick up on cues if I don’t have anyone to teach them to me’ in reply before Spencer tried to cover it up.

How if he had a particularly bad day, he was so jumpy near Derek that Derek almost wanted to sit on his hands to show he wasn’t going to use them for anything.

How on days when Spencer’s eyes were sunken with a lack of sleep, and the clothes he wore showed how thin he was, and he was so so close to the edge of the ledge on the roof above Derek’s apartment that he thought Spencer just might not care if he fell over the edge.

Like he’d had a lifetime of hurts and still had to face more each day, and Derek only saw little slivers of him and couldn’t learn enough to help him as much as Spencer needed; as much as Derek wanted.

God, he was going to make a terrible profiler.

“Derek?” Spencer looked hesitant, and Derek realised he’d spaced out; probably while staring at Spencer’s bruise again going by how he’d tried to angle his face away awkwardly, unable to fully turn and hide it while looking at Derek at the same time.

Derek couldn’t help it, he just kept on staring. Spencer’s tongue darted out to wet his lips again, and Derek’s eyes tracked the movement. He knew Spencer noticed that, too, by the way his breath seemed to stutter.

Slowly, he shuffled forward on the couch, eyes holding Spencer’s gaze as he did so.

This time, Derek’s name from Spencer’s lips was much quieter, like he was asking for something instead of questioning him.

“Spencer,” The younger man’s eyes dropped down, watching as Derek’s hand came up to his arm; his shoulder. Watched it still as it moved higher, cupping his unbruised cheek. Spencer turned his head, almost pressing a kiss to Derek’s palm as his eyes closed and his bruised cheek was fully on display.

“Spencer, I’ll be gentle. May I?”

Spencer didn’t open his eyes, just hummed in agreement, nosing at Derek’s palm. 

Goosebumps broke over Spencer’s neck when Derek’s breath hit his cheek, and Derek felt him shiver. Careful to avoid the worst of it, Derek skated his lips over Spencer’s cheekbone, pressed them just in front of where his earlobe met the back of his jaw, then trailed them down his jawline.

Spencer tipped his head, allowing easier access as Derek watched Spencer’s fingers grip the couch cushion beneath him. Unsure if it was entirely due to sensation or something going on in his mind, Derek didn’t push further. Using his hand on Spencer’s cheek, he turned the man’s head to nudge his nose to Spencer’s.

“This is alright?”

In lieu of an answer, slowly, Spencer lifted his chin and kissed Derek on the lips. Derek’s chest swelled and he smiled into it, his other hand coming up to Spencer’s side.

They shuffled closer to each other, to be able to press themselves into each other more comfortably. Spencer’s mouth opened beneath Derek’s lips, and he could taste that terrible decaf tea and honey, and the cashews Spencer liked to snack on while reading.

He wondered what Spencer would think he tasted like, the cheap vending machine snacks and the god awful protein water he’d bought without realising it was terrible.

Suddenly, he had the urge to brush his teeth. He made to pull away, but Spencer’s fingers curled in his shirt and his resolve weakened.

Their hands were slowly moving over each other, everything was moving so slowly. Sweetly, like they were learning each other and had all the time in the world. Derek’s fingers found the hem of Spencer’s shirt, and he tugged the man’s lower lip between his teeth as his fingers slipped under the fabric and brushed against Spencer’s skin.

God it was soft, but it felt thin, too. He became scared of hurting Spencer, especially when remembering he had some other injuries too. So he kept his touch light, fingers probably tickling as they travelled further up Spencer’s side as Spencer laughed into the kiss.

Spencer tugged at Derek’s collar, then his fingers slipped around to cup the back of Derek’s neck. Caught up in being able to touch, they quickly moved back down, trailing over his shoulder and down his chest, then Spencer’s hands lingered there. They would have moved further down, Derek thinks, with his hands now pushing Spencer’s shirt up, if it weren’t for his sister coming home.

They didn’t realise until they heard her laugh, surprised.

“Oh, Sorry! I didn’t text ahead, my phone died. Go about your business!” She laughed again, more of a giggle, then her bedroom door clicked shut. Spencer was rigid beneath him - when had he pressed Spencer into the couch beneath him?

‘Sorry, Spence, I didn’t-”

Spencer pushed him up and off, the heat flushing his face more than the usual shyness or what Derek might expect from making out on a couch could bring about. More than embarrassment of being caught, even. He scrambled to get up and right his clothes, walking to the door and scooping up his bag on the way.

“Spencer, wait! Where are you going?” He didn’t want to pull Spencer back by catching his arm, knowing the man wouldn’t react well. His eyes seemed watery and Derek was lost.

And he stayed lost, when, after three weeks, Spencer hadn’t come back. His texts went unanswered and when he called the number was disconnected.

And he kept right on being lost when Spencer didn’t come back to visit him before he had to move out.

–--- 2005

Derek scowled at the scene before them. 

“You’re saying someone was turning people into books?”

The local officer walking them through the scene nodded, nose wrinkled but face otherwise resigned.

“Yup. See, we had a couple people go missing here and there. Transients, runaways, you know the type. And we’d thought they went missing by choice. Sure, we looked,” not enough, Derek thought. “But we never thought they’d end up. Well. As books.”

“As books.” Derek’s skin crawled.

Aside from a specific wrinkle in his brow, Hotch didn’t even look perturbed. “These materials, would they be specialised? Potentially unique or traceable?”

“The tanning stuff? Not as far as we can tell. Out here, we got people doing this the normal way, tanning hides and such.  A lot of leather workers out here. As far as we can tell, it’s basically all the same stuff.”

Hotch looked back at Gideon who shrugged and looked at Derek. “He’ll take a breather now that we found his workshop; he’ll need time to set himself up again. Derek, you’re going to a library to speak to someone about human skin book binding.”

Derek and Elle looked at each other before Derek held his hands out, gesturing broadly.

“We just have someone who knows about human skin being made into books?”

Elle smirked at him. “And you get to visit them. How nice.”

Derek wasn’t thrilled about it, and the feeling that his skin was crawling and unclean hadn’t left since they found the workshop their unsub was using. It reeked in both usual and unexpected ways, and the forensic investigator on scene and all too happily told him that urine could be used in the tanning process.

Perhaps a clean, quiet, library would help in easing his mind, but the subject matter wouldn’t. Derek flashed his badge at the desk, and the librarian assistant he’d found nodded without him needing to explain.

“Agent Gideon called ahead, I’ll lead you through to the doctor now. The books were already here, we’ve held them for ages, but the doctor only arrived recently. Good timing, too, what with this horribleness happening.” She chattered as she led him through shelves, picking up carelessly placed books as she went and piling them up on her other arm.

“Wait, the doctor showed up for the books after the murders?” Derek frowned; Gideon hadn’t called that far ahead, had he?

“Yes, though it’s not his first time here. He’s such a joy to have.” She looked at Derek, then laughed. “You don’t think he did it, do you?”

Derek shrugged, and she shook her head. Then, they stopped outside a room labelled ‘staff only’, and she knocked before pushing the door open.

Derek patted down his pockets for his notepad and pen, then stopped short when he looked up.

The assistant kept talking.

“So this is the doctor Spencer Reid, the veritable specialist on these books. Our Margaret, who usually cares for these books and who we’d recommend you to normally for this, she’s been unwell. But we’re lucky to have Dr. Reid here,” After that, she looked between the two, and her smile slipped into confusion.

“Do you two know each other?”

Derek swallowed, and Spencer barely moved.

“Well, I’ll just leave you two to it, then.” She cast a hesitant glance at Spencer, who nodded to her, and she seemed to take that as a sign it was safe for her to leave them alone.

“Spencer?”

[shy-nightmare]

Stu paid me a visit again last night.

But this time, he was...

@weaselnerd and @lastofautumn, you guys are gonna LOVE this 🤣

An action figure!

OK, for the sake of context, let me explain what happened. In the dream, I'm in my room chilling and minding my own business.

And all of a sudden, the potato 🥔 pops up in my peripheral vision. First he turns into a ghost 👻, now a toy? A toy?? Like--OK, I get that Toons have the power to break the laws of physics. It's part of Toon logic. But paranormal possessions of inanimate merchandise???

It never ends.

THE HAUNTING NEVER ENDS! 😱

[meownotgood]

DRAFT FOR THE FIRST CHAPTER IS DONE!!!!!! WHHEEWW '!!!!!

[optiwashere]

Three chapters of the modern/band AU fully written (and two edited!) so now it's like... this is a thing? Like it's real? It's not just a funny ha-ha that I babble about and never actually do?

These chapters also got longer than I expected, so that's great too. My word count expectation for this has changed considerably.

But gals, bros, everything in-between and beyond... it's so strange with my writing process (linear) being like, "I gotta write the next X chapters or I'm never going to get to that moment."

I normally only get that with, like, novels-with-intent-to-publish. Wild.

The metal references have been slim so far though, that's my only disappointment at this point. But Shadowheart is too cottagecore and corny to care, so why should I?

In suffering there is joy, I suppose.