#would love to get some sort of update by March so it looks like something happened within a years time

[alister312]

why does google enjoy lying to me

[ofliterarynature]

FEBRUARY 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf (reread) book club*]

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years • The Memory Librarian • Pixels of You* • Arch-Enemies • Moby Dyke • Pip Bartlett’s Guide to Magical Creatures • A Sinister Revenge • Lud in the Mist • Crying in H Mart • Something Close to Magic • Hula • (Renegades) • The Divorce Colony • Foundryside • Earthlings • A Far Wilder Magic

total: 13 books (12 audiobook, 1 print)

Not as many books this month! And not just because February has fewer days, I was really in a funk this month and struggling to pay attention to my audiobooks (and enjoy them). You wouldn't think there's such a thing as too many books, but I think the overtime hours at work are hitting their peak mental health destruction. Here's to hoping things improve in March!

The Divorce Colony (4.5 stars) - genuinely can't believe this was my 3rd nonfic of the year already! I picked a print copy of this up at a library sale in December after hearing about divorce colonies in the early 20th century on a recent episode of the 99% Invisible podcast. Turns out this book was actually about the beginning of the moment that took place in Sioux Falls, South Dakota in the 1800's. Western states had shorter residency periods and less strict divorce laws, so women (and the occasional man) would travel west and live there for several months in order to obtain a divorce. This book tracks the movement through the stories of 4 of the more infamous cases to make the papers, and does an incredible job of weaving in the surrounding political and religious discussions. Would recommend, and has a great cover to boot!

Renegades (3 stars) - a reread, and for some reason it was torture. I originally read this back in 2018 and loved it, and wanted to tackle it again and actually finish the rest of the series. But I kept getting worked up and frustrated this time around! It kept trying to take itself seriously while also being very YA and kind of superhero-camp, and I was absolutely overthinking it lol. I found the strength to press on into book two, Archenemies (3.5 stars). I liked it a bit more! Something about it being new, the story being a bit more settled and maybe getting a better grasp on its message/politics, the characters growing more, me figuring out that I shouldn't listen to the audiobook for more than an hour or so at a time, lmao. Not great, but fun, and possibly worth reading? I'll keep y'all updated when I finish book 3.

Hula (5 stars) - incredible. Part generational family story, part history, part discussion of what it means to be Hawaiian, culturally and legally. Not always the easiest of reads, but it was so so worth it. It was also doing something very interesting with parts of the narration voiced by a collective "we" (culture/community?) that I would love to get a look at in print. Highly recommend, I'll definitely be getting myself a copy.

Something Close to Magic (4.5 stars) - an absolute delight! The Gail Carson Levine comp on this one is not entirely unearned, anyone who's a fan of fairy tale type fantasies will enjoy this, I had a great time! Very interestingly, it has characters who are in their mid to late teens, but is written in a way where they're still allowed to be young, to the point I'm surprised it didn't get shoehorned into MG instead of YA. If the author writes any more of these I'd be happy to read them.

Crying in H Mart (3.5 stars) - nonfic number 4! I'm sure everyone's heard of this one by now, which is why I finally picked it up. It's fine (which is why it got an extra .5 star), but on the scale of take it or leave it, I'd leave it. It just wasn't for me and I kind of wish I'd dnf'd it. A great cover though.

Lud-in-the-Mist (3.5 stars) - this one seems to be considered a sort of early precursor to fantasy and fairy tale type stories from the early 20th century, and I was eager to try it! While I definitely don't think it would feel out of place amongst it's more recent fellows (think the Last Unicorn, Robin McKinley, DWJ, etc), I absolutely could not get into it. Probably the chief recipient of "my brain doesn't want to cooperate, sorry," so maybe I'll give it another shot someday.

A Sinister Revenge (4 stars) - enjoyable as always! Not to hide this deep in my reviews or anything, but have the Emily Wilde people tried Veronica Speedwell yet?

Pip Bartlett's Guide to Magical Creatures (3 stars) - This one's been sitting unread on my shelf for a while, and since I was on a bit of a Maggie Stiefvater run, I figured it was perfect! Well. Unless you are like 7, this was so bad. Not good. Having previously read and not liked a book by Maggie's co-author Jackson Pearce, I think it would not be unreasonable for me to assume she did most of the writing while Maggie did the illustrations - if the audiobook had been any longer than 4 hours I'd have absolutely DNF'd it, and I have no intention of continuing the series.

Moby Dyke: An Obsessive Quest to Track Down the Last Remaining Lesbian Bars in the Country (4.5 stars) - part of me was wondering what I was doing trying this lol, not being someone who drinks or goes to bars, OR, as previously mentioned, is not the biggest fan of memoirs. It was not, as I hoped, also part research project, but it is a travelogue, and as a consequence has a strong narrative thread. It also has a lot of discussions about issues in the LGBTQ+ community, and overall I really liked it once I figured out what it was doing!

Pixels of You (3.5 stars) - a very short sapphic rivals-to friends-to lovers graphic novel about a human-form AI and a human with an android eye competing for a photography internship at an art gallery. The creators clearly put SO much thought into their characters and worldbuilding, but sadly there is nowhere near enough length here to do it all justice, and a number of elements felt very odd or under explored. The relationship parts are great! I just think this needed to be twice as long to really given everything its due, or maybe explored in prose instead.

The Memory Librarian (3.5 stars) - to start, I know nothing about the musical album this is related to, so I don't know how much that might have affected my reading. Overall I wasn't super impressed - when I discovered that the first story was cowritten by Alaya Dawn Johnson - no shade to her - I almost dropped it then, I just really didn't like her writing style in the one book I've read. But I stuck through it. Of the five stories, only one really stuck in my mind - Nevermind, cowritten by Danny Lore, which I could have read an entire novel about. I wish I could recommend it on its own, but overall I just don't quite understand the world Monae has created.

The Djinn Waits a Hundred Years (3.5 stars) - I probably should say more about the book, it was fine, I was surprised to find that it's set in relatively current day, I found myself a lot more interested in the second narrative about the house's history, which did make me cry a bit. Mostly though, I really just want to let you know how MUCH of a non-entity the djinn was in this story, I have no idea why it was there and why it was included in the title of the book. All the author had to do was make the house a little more sentient and haunted and it would be fine, idk. Read it if you want, but it's not one I would rec.

DNF'S

Foundryside - I was so ready. I had the first two audiobooks checked out, I had the third one on hold. I started this but oh, the writing. bleh. I was looking thought reviews and someone referred to it as something like "21st century internet speak." In a high fantasy novel. I noped out at just 10%.

Earthlings - I've considered the author's other book before but haven't read it, but thought maybe a sci-fic book would work better for me? The beginning was odd but not uninteresting, and I might have continued if it had stayed that way. But then the main character was in school(?) and her teacher started getting handsy after class and I wasn't invested enough to stick it out.

A Far Wilder Magic - the success of Something Close to Magic made me a little too hopeful I think, bc while I'm still a little leery around YA, I know people have liked this. And it sounded interesting, truly, and I love the cover. But first it was the religion stuff. And I didn't really like the characters. Then it's like, oh, this is the same plot as The Scorpio Races, but nowhere near it's quality in any shape or form. I decided to stop while I was ahead, before I started to actually dislike it. (anyway here's your PSA to go read The Scorpio Races by Maggie Stiefvater, I recommend doing it in October if you can).

[aprismaticodyssey]

Hello; please read this, if you don't mind.

This isn't any sort of update. This isn't an announcement. I know I haven't been posting and I haven't been active, so I'm sure to a lot of you, I'm all but gone. For all my talk of "I'm writing this!" and "That's being edited!" I haven't shown you guys anything. I will get to that later. This post is to tell you about my dog and his situation.

That's right! I have a dog! A yorkie. I should have spammed you all with pictures of him. We had gotten him (my mother's idea) to help me through depression. He absolutely loves people, adores meeting new dogs (even if the bigger breeds scare him), and especially kids. He's a people person. He'd sooner lick you to death than ever cause anyone genuine harm. My dog's name is Monty. Monty the Monster. And he's certainly grown into his name when he would play!

Unfortunately, at eleven years old, I guess his time is... running out. You see, last month, we took him to be groomed at a pet store we frequent. When we came home, a couple days later, he would eat less. He wasn't quite as playful, but he was still more or less himself. After stressing about his lack of interest in food, we went to the vet. There, we were told he has a heart murmur, a 3 out of 6 on the scale, I believe. We were recommended to take Monty to a cardiologist and our vet personally recommended one that she had gone to.

The problem is... everything was booked up. Some places we simply couldn't trust with something so delicate. Others were full until next February or March. Last night, my mother had me call one more place and after the call, we were told to come in on emergency. Not ideal but everything was full and we had to get him looked at. His breathing is hard and fast, uncomfortable. Wheezing. A few coughs. Distress in his eyes.

So we left. The place was nice. The people were nice. The problem was what they found: metastatic cancer in the lungs. I appreciated that we were told matter-of-factly. Very straightforward. But I still cried nonetheless. And when we were left alone, I broke down. Our options were this: we give him a few days of medication and see if it helps him. If it improves his quality of living adequately, we could get more medicine. Or... after those few days... we come back and have him euthanized. My mother has looked into other avenues already. Further treatments. Tests.

But I've already made up my mind. It isn't fair for me to put him through all of that just to delay the inevitable. I feel like a horrible owner for thinking that. For saying it. Like I should be moving mountains to give him another week. A month. A year. But I can't. I just can't. I couldn't handle seeing my dog knowing that all I've done is bought him time, time his health has decided he doesn't necessarily have. I struggled going to sleep last night even after crying. I told him over and over that I loved him. That he's my best friend and how much he helped me. These eleven years are too short. Too soon.

So... the reason I'm posting this, the reason I'm saying all of this, is just because I would like you, any of you, to say a prayer or two for Monty. To wish him smooth passage into the afterlife and that he's able to eat all the things he never could. Like chocolate! God, he'd love it if he could have it now.

If there's anything I want left behind, it's this post. I love you, Monty. More than I'll ever love myself or anyone on this earth. You helped me more than medicine or therapy ever could. I love you. I love you. I love you. I hope you get to travel the stars. I hope you make friends. I hope you find grandpa somewhere out there and join him on his adventures.

And to those of you who read this... Thank you. I'm sorry for my silence. I'm sorry for not posting more. I'm sorry for not being here. I'll be here more and more soon. Eventually. Just... not yet.

[sehtoast]

From Ashes to Home (Depowered Homelander x OC)

18+

Word Count: 6.6k

Summary: Some ghosts aren't meant to be found, but the case of Homelander's mother is one that deserves to be revealed. He deserves a chance to know what's left of her. Chapter 11 of All of You is Left to Love. Not plot dependent.

Warnings: Smut if you squint, parental death themes, he's finally allowed to grieve. Vought's catalog of inflicted horrors.

OC: Benjamin Colyer (The Boys-verse Spider-Man)

Special thanks to @theonlymanintheskyisme for beta reading <3

Fic Directory

I just… I wish I knew anything about her.

Those words echoed in Ben’s mind for days on end, endlessly looping in that sad, defeated whisper. Somehow, the subject of Homelander’s parentage came up, and, well…

It always was a tender topic.

He hated the way John bit back his tears. The way he hid himself behind an air of indifference lest he let the last pillar of his defenses crumble to dust.

Even now, after all this time, he still struggled to really let it out. But Ben always knew. Could always tell by the twitch of Homelander’s lip, the scrunch of his nose, the way he wouldn’t blink as a way to hold back his tears.

He made a silent promise to find all that he could as he held Homelander that night. Each brush of his hand through his once god-like lover’s hair a vow to find something, anything that could bring him closer to the mother he never knew.

Every day that followed, Ben found himself more and more consumed by ideas on how to find her. Would he have to bribe someone? Money was certainly no worry. Would he have to intimidate people? Most likely, but it wasn’t particularly hard to get the staff in Vital Records to shit their pants.

Would he have to march into Stan’s office and make more demands?

Luckily, being the new head of The Seven came with many perks, even more so for actually being liked by the staff at Vought Tower.

What little information referenced John’s parentage only directly named Soldier Boy, who'd already revealed himself as Homelander’s father. Granted, that information was updated by Homelander himself after it came to light. Prior to that, the line for the father's name had been blank.

Perhaps sperm donor was a better title... He hadn't exactly been father of the year when he tried to go nuclear– much less a decent grandfather for leaving Ryan battered.

Ben admittedly had a chuckle over their shared first name, but he found it incredibly odd that Vought named the mother by a code.

1-G.

Benjamin spent several hours a day in the record center’s library of paper files. Many of them were scheduled to be destroyed after being recreated digitally, but it’d take an army to copy and sort decades of documents. He had plenty of time, and he’d rummage through every filing cabinet in the room if that’s what it would take to find even the slightest scrap of information about John’s mother.

The wall crawler drove himself mad trying to work off that one piece of information.

1-G. A code? A title? A fucking label designation for some petri dish somewhere?

Each night, he went back home to Homelander. Each night, he had to pretend to have been out prowling the streets for miscreants instead of playing librarian. He’d come home with dinner, sit down with Homelander, and pick at his food as each disgusting secret he’d uncovered entangled itself into his waking mind.

“What’s wrong?”

Ben jumped, looking up at Homelander with wide eyes and a piece of spaghetti dangling from his lips.

“That! That right there.” John pointed accusingly with his fork. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

“Nothin’,” the web-head shook his head. “Just– work’s been a lot lately, y’know? Stan’s a bastard, the team is acting up... Same headache, different day.”

Homelander’s eyes narrowed at him, suspicion nestled deep inside those beautiful blues.

“Bullshit! You’re not eating lately and you’re sure as fuck not talking. Did– Are you mad at me?” John pushed away from the table, standing. “You haven’t said more than five words since you got in.”

“Johnny,” Ben sighed, lowering his head. “I’m not mad, I just… I’m just really caught in my head right now, okay?”

“Right, right.” Homelander rolled his eyes, grabbing his carryout container. “Whatever. Talk to me when you feel like it, I guess. I’ll just give you your space.” Dejected bitterness laced every word.

Ben lacked the steam to chase him to the bedroom and talk some sense into him. Fuck, he could barely do it for himself, let alone John. So, he let the pot simmer. Cleaned up around the house and showered to kill some time before meandering back to their room.

Homelander had shut off all the lights and curled up close to the edge of the bed, blankets obscuring his form. Ben wondered if his love was actually asleep, or just hiding in the only way he knew how anymore.

A pang of guilt hit his heart.

It’d been roughly two weeks since he started rummaging through Vought’s archives, and quite likely two weeks since he’d paid enough attention to Homelander.

Ben eased into bed, curling around Homelander’s ‘sleeping’ form. He didn’t move to pull the covers away, opting instead to let love keep a layer of protection between himself and a source of pain. He knew times like these only stoked the paranoia that one day John would wake to an empty bed and home. That Ben would up and leave him after finding someone better, or realizing he wasn't worth the effort.

Something that would simply never happen.

Benjamin nuzzled close, lips hovering right above John’s covered ear.

“I’m not mad at you…” He began. “I promise, Johnny. I’m not. I just… It’s a lot to explain. I’ve got this… project that I’m working on. It’s really important, but I’m finding so many fucking horrors from Vought in the meantime that I just…”

He breathed a heavy sigh.

“It’s taking a lot out of me. That with everything else I see in a day, and… it’s a lot, y’know?”

Ben paused, waiting to see if Homelander would shuffle out from under the blankets. When he didn’t, Benjamin continued.

“I love you. I’m sorry if I worried you.”

He shifted away from Homelander, opting to give him space instead of smothering him. It took only a few moments for that bundle of blankets to shuffle his way. A hand snaked out from underneath, fingers joining with Ben’s.

The wall crawler shifted onto his side and pulled John closer.

No words were exchanged for the rest of the night. Ben dozed off with ease while Homelander fought against his drowsiness to bask in the moment. The rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest against his head, the steady beats of his heart.

He adored his little spider more than anything in the world. Even the slightest thought of losing Benjamin was enough to send him spiraling into paranoia and rampant imaginings of worst case scenarios. It’d been two years since he lost his powers, and every day he wondered if Ben would finally decide he wasn’t worth keeping around. Every day he had to remind himself that the wall crawler loves him. That he was more than the house pet his alter ego dubbed him as.

Where would he even be without his Benjamin?

Would he even be alive? Would he have made it out of that containment cell? Would he have survived another week of torture before that guard simply killed him?

Would there be a roof over his head, or the promise of regular meals? A warm bed and a devoted soul with whom to share it?

Would he have someone to protect him now that he couldn’t fend for himself?

Every swirling thought made him realize no, he wouldn’t.

He'd still be in the bad room. He'd likely be dead. Starved or beaten to death, surely. Tortured every single day until he succumbed.

But, god above, that only meant it would make sense if Ben grew tired of him - weak mess of a man that he was now.

Despite the storm of what-ifs pulsating in his mind, John dozed off fairly fast once he laid his head upon Ben’s chest. When he woke, his body was enveloped in heat– some areas more than others.

He was on the brink as soon as his eyes fluttered open.

He lifted the covers to peek, and the sight alone of Ben swallowing him triggered his release instantly, leaving him a writhing, panting mess.

“You,” Ben licked the length of his softening shaft, “and I are due for a date, sir. I called off. We have the whole day.”

Benjamin made good on his word, devoting the entire day to Homelander. He’d barely even thought about his little side project while they were out.

The dying warmth of an early September breeze swept around them as the pair passed all sorts of eateries. The openness of the streets in Queens kept Homelander’s nerves at bay, but John still struggled quite a bit with entering crowded spaces– especially stores. The smaller they were, the more his mind would linger on memories of both his childhood cell and the… other one. But, Benjamin’s presence, along with the duty of carrying the grocery basket, made it a smidge less stressful to accomplish their trip.

“Proud of you,” Ben nudged his shoulder as they walked home, each carrying a paper bag of goods. “Seriously. I hope you know how great it is to see you do all this.”

He couldn’t help but grin despite how vulnerable he really felt. He was like an open wound in public. Exposed, waiting for someone to pick at him or throw salt his way. What if someone recognized him?

What if someone realized the shame of his current state, and he was plastered on the screen of every device with internet access?

Hell, probably every newspaper, too.

Homelander Spotted Looking Half Homeless! is what he imagined the headlines would read. Though he began to allow Ben to trim his hair, he still found himself feeling subpar in appearance. Be it the weight he’d gained, or his casual clothing, he just wouldn’t be The Homelander anymore.

Christ, what if someone asked him to use his powers?

He took deep breaths as they turned another corner, counting each step as they made their way closer to home. By the time the front door closed behind them, he’d about reached his breaking point.

Ben, however, wasted no time in distracting him with banter and meal prep duties.

“Don’t cut yourself again,” the web-head warned as he sorted through pots and pans.

“Not my fault,” John countered, hand idly rolling a bell pepper along the length of the cutting board. “You showed me doing it fast, so I went fast.”

“Yes, babe. But I have actual experience with cooking.”

By the time they could leave the rest of the work up to the oven, the pair had made their way to the couch. John’s legs were strewn over Ben’s lap as he watched TV. Benjamin, however, had pulled out his laptop to browse that barebones document he’d found on John’s parentage.

The sight of the Vought logo snagged Homelander’s attention like a moth to a flame.

“Just that project I’m working on.” Ben hummed coolly, praying to whatever gods there may be that John wouldn’t press the issue. “Mostly just paperwork.”

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

“Hey, unrelated...” He began, hoping the little lie would go unnoticed– mostly because he didn’t want to admit to what he’d been doing and get John’s hopes up just to dash them with inevitable disappointment. “I was poking around in the paper archives the other day.”

Make up a new number… He’s definitely seen it before.

“3-F as a name placeholder mean anything to you? Like, is it a code or something?”

John’s brow pinched, and he sat silent for a while, raking through memories of decades of Vought propaganda and genuine fact.

“I think…” He trailed off. “I haven’t seen it in a while, but I’m pretty sure that’s how the first supe trial volunteers were categorized. There weren’t massive amounts of people signing up to get injected with V– if you can imagine.”

Ben quirked a brow as his brain raced to connect the dots.

“It was part of keeping their identities off the record, too. Liabilities and all that. Last I heard, all the files on ‘em were shredded once they got what they were looking for.” he continued, brows pinched. “Some fucked up shit went on there. Why?”

“I, uh…” Ben sighed. “Saw it in place of a name in one of the paper docs I pulled the other night. It’s just been bugging me.”

“Deep rabbit hole there.” John sighed, leaning back. “I couldn’t find anything besides the bullshit when I dug out Soldier Boy's old archives. Same thing when I… tried to find my mom– ‘cept everything on her was long gone. Whoever’s on that paper of yours is probably a ghost by now. Literally and figuratively.”

Ben swallowed thickly. Chances are that this 1-G person is certainly dead by now.

John’s mother was certainly dead by now.

But he wouldn’t jump to conclusions until it was time. Just as Ben was about to remote to his work terminal, the oven timer went off.

“Thank god.” John whined. “Staaaarving!”

Over the following weeks, Ben had become wholly consumed by the motivation to find anything about John’s mother. He’d dug through the paper archives every chance he could, even going as far as enlisting some help, but there was nothing.

Ben began to believe there was no trail to follow when one of the staffers he’d paid to assist emailed him a scan of a very old, yellowed notepad.

Pretty sure I found something, the email read. It’s hazy, but it looks like notes from old trial runs. Found it in a junk folder of blurry scans from one of the old ward doctors. Gonna keep looking for more.

True to her word, the staffer even went and drew an arrow to the section she’d found. Instead of 1-G, this Doctor James Waltz person wrote it as ‘Patient 1-G: Gillman.’ The writing was barely legible under the color of a coffee stain, but it was more than Ben had to go off of mere minutes before.

Gillman.

Ben immediately replied to the staffer, practically begging her to send anything else in that file– or at least give him details on where to find it. Blurry or not, he wanted everything he could get his hands on.

It was the gold mine he’d been looking for.

Despite the poor image quality and faded ink, Ben was able to find significant amounts of information on the initial test subjects for Compound V. He had to dive deep through hundreds of file folders to find anything about them– which left him concluding that someone hid these rather than follow the original order to destroy them.

The name Gillman had been his golden ticket. He’d found the liability waiver she signed, partially torn, left with only ‘illman’ remaining on the line – but still distinctly the same name. Ben cursed the record keeper of that era to hell for adding to his frustration.

It seemed everywhere he looked– old genetics testing records, ability documentation, and experimentation records, she was simply dubbed 1-G. All he wanted– needed was a first name. From there, maybe he could track her through public records beyond Vought, but there was nothing.

Except for the harrowing details in her record, that is. Despite the lack of a first name, Ben was able to piece together patient files with mention of her to create quite a… horrifying picture.

Enough to leave him sick to his stomach.

The Doctor Waltz fella who’d been all too kind and revealed her last name also had been to her what Vogelbaum was to John– if not a thousand times worse.

Downright evil, even.

Not every patient survived the Compound V trials. An exceptionally small number of them made out like kings, sporting powers with zero side effects. They’d received the same strain Soldier Boy was given.

Ben considered the dead to be far luckier than those who landed somewhere in the middle.

The unsuccessful strains of V had one of three outcomes: instant death, powers that killed the wielder shortly afterward, or– in the case of John’s mother– the body survives empowerment, but the mind does not.

His mother was left in a state of rageful madness.

As Benjamin pieced together mangled papers and deciphered blurred writing, he was able to construct a vague idea of what happened to her.

Roughly one day after injection, she’d come back to report malaise, but was written off by the doctors. By the second day, Vought had brought her back and contained her in a special cell.

Patient aggression exceptionally high. Engages with hallucinations. Refuses to eat and will not speak to psychological team. Containment failing, recommend sedation.

Notes following were conveniently lost, but picked up roughly two months later. Only problem being that they were almost entirely illegible from what seemed like water damage.

Because of course they’d be damaged.

What was left of her patient reports painted a devastating picture.

Homelander’s mother became a ward of Vought. She’d been the only subject to lose herself that Vought caught before she could come to harm. Waltz had found her ripe for experimentation after studying her abilities. They’d opted for round the clock sedation.

Keep her docile.

Flight, strength, and laser vision were among the descriptors they used. Damn near identical to Homelander’s abilities– lacking his invulnerability. A modern mind could look at this and realize that, along with Ryan’s inheritance of John’s powers, this meant there did exist a genetic component to the development of superpowers in those injected with V.

That understanding, though, was only a theory for Waltz back then.

–breed a new line of heroes.

Subject tissue sent for testing.

The possibilities … ……. mother of modern supes.

–extraction of eggs–

It didn’t take an exceptionally bright mind to realize what had happened to her. A shiver ran down Ben’s spine as he read more and more.

They’d used her as a fucking incubator for their experimental ‘purebred’ supes. For years, she was kept like cattle– artificially inseminated with sperm from promising supes until they’d written off her ability to carry children. After that, they simply harvested her eggs and used an undisclosed method of growing the fetuses to term.

The list of failed subjects was…

It was far too long.

Before Vogelbaum, there was Waltz.

Vogelbaum was not the father of the method by which John came to exist– but he was the first doctor to achieve a perfect creation.

Waltz had the blood of children on his hands. Infants, toddlers. Children beaten to death in combat tests. Children drowned in aquatic efficiency tests. A new subject every five to ten years, it seemed.

Killed in surgical procedures.

Destroyed by their own powers.

Murdered by a madman’s curiosity.

All of them lacking that one thing that made John the exception that he was.

Invulnerability.

Well, that and DNA infused with Compound V.

Waltz retired before his project saw success, passing on the mantle of monster to Jonah Vogelbaum.

Fuck, Homelander may not have even been Vogelbaum’s first subject…

The last note Waltz ever made on John’s mother was in 1986. A new hire slipped up during an operation on her brain.

She died that same day.

It had been the shock of a lifetime when, upon scrolling the dwindling remainder of Waltz's notes, he stumbled upon a faded polaroid. Though it was hazy, there was no denying what he was seeing.

Laid back in a reclined medical chair was an older woman. Long, gray hair. A gaunt face. Expression void of anything. IV lines leading into her arms reflected the flash of the camera.

If he squinted hard enough to combat the blur, Ben could thoroughly see a resemblance. He'd know that face anywhere– those big blue eyes, high cheekbones, thin lips. The curved bridge of her nose.

God, John looked just like her.

And now?

He’s all that’s left of her.

What they’d done with her remains was a mystery, but Benjamin almost didn’t want to know what more they could have possibly done to the poor woman. He felt sick. Bile burning in his throat as he pressed his face into his hands.

He goes out every day and represents Vought. Represents pure evil under the guise of heroism. Fell in love with one of their seemingly infinite amount of victims…

In the weeks it took him to find the end of her story, Ben would hold John tight every night. He’d stare down at his love’s sleeping form and go back and forth in his mind on whether or not to tell him. The thicker the file, the heavier his guilt. Each printout only made it worse.

Would it hurt him? Certainly.

But, it might also close a chapter in his life that John had been so desperately trying to decipher.

Alternatively, it could make everything infinitely worse.

He knew he had to tell Homelander the truth. The only problem was getting the words to quit sticking in his throat every time he tried.

He could tell there was a strain between them with this recent secrecy of his. Where he’d been so late at night, why he wouldn’t talk about it. He stopped pretending he was swinging around the city and just settled for saying work kept him late.

But how could he tell him?

Hey, I found your mom.

It seemed like a ridiculous statement, especially because he didn’t actually find her– just traces. There was no headstone, no urn of ashes.

There was nothing left of her except yellowed paper and faded ink.

As it happened, the pot boiled over one day. Ben hadn’t even realized how bad things had really gotten until the morning John clung to him in bed, preventing him from leaving.

“Is there someone else..?”

The question had taken him completely by surprise.

“Is that why you can’t tell me what you’ve been doing?” He followed up, voice cracking no matter how hard he tried to hide it. “Where you’ve been…”

“What?” Ben rolled over to face him. “John, I–”

“I’d understand.” Homelander shook his head, avoiding eye contact. Tears leaked freely from the corners of his eyes. The dark circles lining them let Ben know he hadn’t slept at all last night. “I’d hate it– I’d hate it so fucking much… But I’d get it.”

The dwindling of his self worth screamed so loudly in every word.

“No!” Ben gripped him, his own eyes clouding. “Never! No, god no– never!” He pulled him closer, burying his face in Homelander’s chest. “No. No, Johnny.”

He didn’t wait for Homelander to speak before he spilled everything. All of the guilt inside falling off his tongue in stammered confessions.

“I didn’t want to– I…” Benjamin breathed, shaking his head to collect himself. “I didn’t want it to hurt you, I just… Not until I knew it was enough to be worth the hurt.” He moved away to look at John, a hand at his cheek to thumb soothing circles. Wasn't sure if he was doing it more for himself or Homelander. “And even then– fuck…”

Ben took a deep breath.

“I’m… I found your mom– sort of, I mean. Not like I actually found her found her, but what happened to her, at least.”

He gulped when John didn’t reply. Instead, that unwavering, wide blue stare begged him to continue. There was something in his eyes… Fury, perhaps. Fascination– absolutely. But, mostly, fear.

Fear that whatever Benjamin was about to say would reopen a lifelong wound held together with makeshift bandages. A wound that would unravel and gush the second something picked at it.

“I found a paper trail. Buried deep in junk folders where nobody would ever think to find shit that matters. Been a big puzzle to put together but…” Ben sniffled. “I can bring home what I have, but I just… I didn’t want to drop that on you without a final answer– and, god, I didn’t want to risk hurting you either. I wanted to find her for you, but it took so long just to even get her last name and I still don’t even have the first na–”

“What is it?” Homelander demanded, eyes widened as though he were in a frenzy. Perhaps he was. “What’s her name!? Is she alive!?”

“Gillman.” Ben replied instantly, the weight of secrecy falling from his shoulders with every bit he revealed. “Her last name’s Gillman. And… by rights, I guess yours is, too, but… no. No, she’s… she’s gone.”

The realization he’d never know his mother crashed over Homelander in waves so violent Benjamin could physically see it happen. He watched John begin to crumble, gradually unraveling more and more until he choked back quiet sobs.

“S’why I asked you that one night about placeholder names… I should’ve just told you upfront.”

Homelander shuddered. “1-G…”

“Yeah,” Ben pulled him close. Of course he knew that name. “That’s her… I’m so sorry, honey.”

Homelander was fully prepared to find he’d been abandoned by the love of his life. Kept around out of sympathy, but abandoned nonetheless. He’d practically convinced himself entirely of it. He wanted to be angry– furious, even. He wanted to grab Ben by the shoulders and shake him for keeping this hidden, but god.

His mother.

The mere thought of her shattered him, and all he could do was plead.

“Show me. Please, Ben– I need to see…

Benjamin spent the day gathering everything he had, abusing Vought’s unlimited employee printing access to duplicate seemingly endless amounts of paper, piling it all into one big folder. He’d warned John about how ugly this would be. How horrifically they’d treated her.

He didn’t have the heart to tell him about the others just like him…

Benjamin felt almost awful walking through the door that afternoon, shuffling in to find Homelander sitting on the couch, simply staring into space. No TV, no book or phone in hand. Just lost in his own mind, leg bouncing restlessly.

“Hey,” he whispered, drawing his love back to earth.

John shot up from where he sat, making a beeline straight for Benjamin.

The web-head had the file extended for him to grab immediately. Homelander snatched it like a child does a toy they’d been excited to finally receive, though excitement seemed to be replaced with dread.

He looked at it for a time, staring at the dense rubber banded folder as though opening it would unleash a black hole that absorbed the whole world. He was afraid to know.

And Ben knew it, too.

“C’mon,” he rested a supportive hand against Homelander’s shoulder. “We’ll do it together.”

He guided John to the couch, heart clenching at the way his blue eyes never strayed from the folder. As the papers became harder and harder to read, Ben had to help fill in the blanks on smudged words he’d deciphered himself. He had half a mind to tease Homelander about never wearing his glasses, but it was far from an appropriate time for such things.

Homelander’s expression grew grim as he read on, and they’d barely cracked through an inch of paper before Ben was encouraging him to take a break.

John’s breathing was uneven, eyes stinging with tears, teeth clenched in fury. His body was too hot, skin too tight, his head pounded. The audacity of the request sent him over the edge.

“How the fuck do you expect me to stop!?” He roared, snatching Ben’s hand away from the folder. He bit his lip, desperately trying to don his mask to hide his emotions. “What, y-you hand me this and now you want me to– no!”

“Okay,” Ben breathed, hands held up in surrender. “I just don’t want it to be overwhelming, y’know? This took me months to get through, and I know how I felt. You’re getting all this right away, and it’s a lot, and–”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Ben gulped, recognizing a burst of rage that once would’ve triggered a crimson glow in those ocean eyes.

“You don’t get it! You don’t fucking get it!” Homelander grit, teeth bared. His eyes accused Benjamin of betrayal. ”You have a mother. A father. Brothers. You have a family. This is all I get! Just a bunch of goddamn paper! So don’t you dare tell me to fucking stop!”

He expected this, but it never did soften the blow to know it was coming. Benjamin knew damn well Homelander would lash out eventually, emotionally fragile as he was given the situation.

The wall crawler shut his eyes as more abuse flew his way, simply taking it.

The dam would burst as soon as the rage faltered. He could practically time it to the millisecond.

“You– I don’t–” Homelander stumbled over his words, breaths coming in and out erratically as he fought to pretend he wasn’t coming undone at the seams. “Nobody– god fucking damn it! N-No!”

When Ben opened his eyes, it was to the sight of John leaned forward, hiding his face into the folder as he fought the lurch of a deep cry.

“It was never supposed to be like this…”

His own eyes pricked with tears as he watched Homelander break.

“I always…” Homelander’s voice leaked in a tight, throaty whisper. “I used to imagine what I’d do if I ever… ever met her. All I could ever think of was hugging her, but… I couldn’t even picture it because she was never real. I used to think if I did find her, maybe I’d feel okay… Like it’d make up for all these years.”

He nearly flinched when Ben began to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“I always wondered if she’d be proud of me, you know? Her son is– was The Homelander, after all. She’d have been proud, right..?”

Ben didn’t know how to respond– or if he even should. All he could focus on was the sorrow twisted on Homelander’s face when he finally lifted his head. The tears staining his face. A streak of snot that would’ve humiliated him were he in a clearer state of mind.

"D’you think she would've loved me..?"

Seeing him break like this made Benjamin regret having ever gone looking for Homelander's mother. And yet… somehow this felt right. Watching him finally feel it. Filling in the pages of his missing parentage after so long.

No… he needed this.

"She would've adored you, pumpkin." Ben worked the file from Homelander's grip as one takes meat from a lion that trusts them enough to allow it. Almost immediately, Homelander leaned into him. He ran his fingers through John’s hair, rocking him slightly. “She’d have loved you more than anything in the world.”

He wanted to say more– god he wanted to say so much fucking more… But he couldn’t. Nothing came to mind. Nothing that would’ve dulled the hurt in his love’s heart to make it all easier, anyway. There was one thing, though…

She was never real. The line reminded the wall crawler of what he’d left out of the folder, fearing that it’d shuffle loose and be lost on the swing home. He was about to throw the egg beater into the already boiled-over pot, but this is what needed to be done. One more thing his discoveries could heal with fire-like agony.

"Johnny..?"

Ben slipped his hand free, reaching behind to his back pocket, pulling free a little photo. He'd printed and laminated it before leaving Vought Tower, just to make sure the incoming tears wouldn't stain it.

He handed it over face down, and the look on Homelander's face said he knew what this was.

"This is… That's her." Homelander stared for what seemed like forever. Fingertips danced across the smooth surface as the tears rolled freely down his cheeks. "S'my mom," he rasped over and over again. "My mom…"

"Takes a little squinting on account of the quality," Ben sniffled. "But you look just like her."

Homelander breathed a laugh, finally wiping the mess of tears and snot on his sleeve. In time, his breathing began to even out as his cries tapered off.

"She's so…" John paused, sucking in a deep breath, holding it tight as he took in every detail of her. "She's beautiful."

Ben wrapped an arm around Homelander once more. “Hmm. Like mother like son, huh?”

Homelander looked as though he’d been given the world and had it taken away all at the same time. Perhaps, though, that’s exactly what this was.

In the span of but a few moments, he’d lost her all over again despite never having had her to begin with.

It took some convincing for Ben to finally get Homelander to stop reading and take a break. Help me with dinner, he’d asked once his love finally calmed down.

John seemed worlds away as they worked, not even realizing how he was reacting to what went on inside his mind. Benjamin realized he probably should’ve just let Homelander relax and collect himself.

“Babe,” he murmured, thumbing away a stray tear on his cheek. “That’s not how we salt the pasta.” A joke was all he could muster to try to alleviate something. “You can go sit down or something if you’re still working through it, y’know. You don’t have to–”

“No,” Homelander interrupted. “I’d rather be here.” He reached up to hold Ben’s hand against his cheek, staring back into those chocolatey eyes that always warmed him to his core. “Can you just… I– Give me something that I gotta focus on. C’mon, spoil me a little.”

Used to be that he’d take that offer and sulk. Let his sorrows drown him bit by bit until he was right back at square one - just as miserable as the day he’d lost himself. Ben always encouraged him to channel his negativity into something productive, but he never followed through. Never picked up hobbies beyond reading history books and watching movies.

But now..?

“Chef Johnny,” Ben grinned, proud as could be of his love. “You’re gonna learn to make a mean margherita pasta today.”

He figured he’s changed quite a bit over the years after all.

Homelander struggled to balance his focus against the raging thoughts of his mind. Minding the aromatics sizzling in the pan while flashes of what they’d done to his mother jarred him. Focusing on Ben’s instructions on what to add, what seasonings paired best with the chicken, the gentleness of his love’s touch as he held his hand to show him how to properly rock a knife to cut fresh herbs.

In the back of his head, he saw her. His mother, wired to those machines just as the doctors had done to him. Instead of what he’d always imagined - hugging her - he saw something else. Heard something else as he saw her, felt Ben’s hands on his.

Mom… I made it.

In the weeks following, Benjamin helped him absorb the rest of what happened. Sat with him while he wept over the siblings he’d never know, the grief of knowing he wasn’t the first, the relief of knowing he was - hopefully - the last.

It was a lot. A lot of crying. A lot of anger. Misery. Resentment.

But he worked through it.

The web-head eventually returned to his regular crime fighting antics and balanced his home life once more. In the meantime, he’d commissioned a headstone. There was so little to go off of, and no body to bury, but it felt right to put her to rest in at least some way. This, he kept a secret from Homelander.

It was a surprise for later.

Once the time came that the cemetery notified him that it was in place, Ben nagged Homelander all day to go for a walk. Well, more like a swing.

“C’mon, it’s important!” He whined. “You’ll like it.”

“We can have a date inside, you know.” Homelander huffed. He was perfectly content not suffocating in crowds of people, and he’d like to keep it that way.

“Yeah, but inside doesn’t have what I wanna show you,” Ben stuck his lower lip out. “It’ll be quick. I’ll swing us there. Land in a nice smelly alley. Just a walk across the street, okay?”

Homelander sighed, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Fine.”

“Great!” Ben chirped, pressing an enthusiastic kiss to his cheek. “Be ready in a few.”

The swing there was leisurely. It included a stop by a flower shop for roses, which Homelander questioned endlessly.

”You don’t need to buy me flowers,” he feigned a complaint.

”You’ll see.” That was all Ben had to say on the matter before they were back in the air.

He clung to Ben like a leech as they sliced through the air, high enough to avoid being photographed, but low enough that Homelander’s renewed fear of heights didn’t have him on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He focused on the flowers he’d been holding in a death grip. Pressed them against Ben’s back and stared into the petals.

When they finally landed in the promised smelly alleyway, Homelander furrowed his brow. From the path to the sidewalk, he could make out a graveyard.

“Ben?”

His little spider held out a hand without a word, leading him out, across the street, and through the iron gate.

He had an inkling of what was coming, but it felt like something out of a movie. Holding hands with the love of his life, walking through a monument of lives long gone, feeling the autumn breeze gust through the knitting of his sweater.

Homelander practically fell to his knees when they came upon it. His legs wobbled as he approached, flower stems creaking under the grip of his fist. He let his fingers touch the stone, tracing the letters engraved into the face.

Gillman

192?-1986

He hugged it. Didn’t know what overcame him, didn’t even know he’d done it until the cold marble pressed against his cheek. Didn’t even care that it pressed his glasses harshly into his temple.

He hugged his mother.

Homelander didn’t hear the shuffling of leaves under Ben’s shoes, but the hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

“Thought she deserved it, y’know?” Ben murmured, thumbing against John’s blue sweater. Part of him worried his lover would’ve been upset - maybe gave him grief over the fact she wasn’t actually in there. ”You deserve this, too.” He pressed a kiss to Homelander’s hair, then stood. “I’ll give you some space…”

Benjamin was ready to go for a stroll until a hand caught him by the sleeve, tugging him back down.

John was silent for a time, simply resting his forehead against the chilled stone, warmed by Benjamin’s arms draped around his neck. Ben figured he was simply thinking it instead of speaking, but then…

“I made it, mom.” With the love of his life embracing him, and his arms around her headstone, he pulled from the depths of his heart.

“I’m home.”

[personinthepalace]

I saw a community production of Legally Blonde the Musical over the weekend! Will share my rambling thoughts below the cut:

so I judge lbtm productions by THE DOOR(TM) bc door discourse so let’s talk about that first:

so I've been analyzing the show’s sizzle reel a bit too much haha, but from the staging I figured that there wouldn't be a door during the ballad. I said this to my friend but then she pointed out that the program literally says elle's door so I got excited

however I was right and there was no door :(

so what happened instead was that they wheeled out elle's desk and bed and luggage for her room. (oh and before that they turned on little lights that made it looked like a starry night while elle was singing the first part - very pretty). emmett comes "into" elle's room with the two champagne glasses, they sing, she cries, elle then takes her suitcase and exits through the main stage doors (these doors are the same ones used for harvard, callahan's office, courtroom, paulette's salon etc - it’s the doors seen in the video above)

so we have emmett in elle's room and elle out of her room

emmett sings *what about love* and THEN elle comes out of one of the side doors (like closet doors) and starts singing. so I guess she is still outside?? very hard to tell

but there are some steps so elle is singing from the top step, emmett on the bottom

and by the end of the song, elle has come down the steps and elle and emmett sing the ending back to back (but not touching each other)

also I would like to note that emmett tries to touch elle (to stop her from walking away) but elle flinches which I thought was a good touch

so yeah tldr: no physical door (but elle did walk out some doors), emmett is singing from inside elle's room(?), but at least he didn't confess his love to her face so yay?

——————————

now from the beginning:

there was a lot of the barbie movie soundtrack playing during the preshow haha

so they definitely updated the show to the present day - there was a selfie circle light thing, everyone had iphones and ipads but I feel like they updated it in a very organic way. didn't feel forced or fake which sadly I feel like happens in a few updated versions (say regents park). also the ways they updated certain moments was quite clever - will get into it later

so the beginning has the girls doing the tiktok dance in front of the light circle for elle and then there was no candle lighting instead they said something along the lines of "find your light"

the store manager is a guy

okay clever modern day update! elle gives her phone to one of the restaurant customers so that they could film the "proposal". but then after seeing that warner didn't propose yet, she took her phone back

at "does look like the face of harvard law", the admissions guy is addressing the audience! there was a pause so we all shouted yeah! and he looked at us like we lost our minds haha

the admissions guy saying *ethnic movement* was followed by a pause and a big gasp from the audience for some reason

there was no marching band just cheer leaders and there were two guys in skirts

oh one of the guys has a character called kiki later (the gay guy in paulette's salon) and he is basically the best background character - he had the best outfits and omigod walking around in heels and later wore the cutest boots. yeah best background character

emmett is now a class of 2019. also he hasn't slept since 2016 (it should have been more haha)

aaron tries to shake enid's hand when she introduces herself but then she gets very enid and then he just backs away haha

bruiser watches rupaul drag race. oh yeah they had actual dogs on stage! very small very cute

elle pulls out a hydroflask and an E statue thing to put on her desk

emmett didn't sing along during blood in the water which I really like

paulette has a playlist instead of a cd. vivienne came into the salon and paid kiki for a gift bag of sorts

elle has a hello kitty toy and emmett threatened to throw it in the trash haha

no more redbull they drink celsius now. also I love that they drink from the same can

another clever update! elle texts warner during chip on your shoulder. so things like *and grandma bootsie!* is sent as like a second text. (we can hear the text sound). and the christmas message is a voice memo

oh yeah and when elle introduces emmett to paulette, she takes him by the hand and walks him towards paulette which I thought was cute

omigod so during the part where elle and paulette try to communicate behind emmett's back - paulette holds the shampoo bottle like it's a dick and we all lost it hahaha

after elle gives callahan her resume, she walks towards emmett and circle around him and they're both silenting squealing and then elle walks off stage squealing haha

they did not have a handshake during chip on my shoulder. nor did emmett do any silly dance

so much better - callahan sends out the results by email so everyone is looking at their phone

also I didn't catch if warner gave his phone to someone to film or someone was just filming on their own phone but someone was filming warner's proposal to vivienne

emmett was on stage for most of so much better and when he left with the rest of the people he gave elle two thumbs up

brooke now has an app, callahan does not speak twitter or tiktok

brooke was doing the long jumprope at one point - I forget what it's called like two people are holding the rope and brooke is jumping

emmett: we are here to whip up your legal defense *does some awkward dancing* it was very funny haha

okay so emmett was wearing his bag during this whole time and during take it like a man, he gives it to elle and then she wears it for the rest of the number (I just love that addition haha)

also this emmett wears glasses and it took me a while to notice/realize but after his makeover, he no longer wears glasses for the rest of the show

this kyle had a lot of kyle swagger haha. he walks through the audience, he freaking adjusts his belt, holds the package like *that* obviously, bends over a lot - a lot of kyle haha

and then when he comes back for his stylist, and elle is like do it - elle and paulette look at each other, nod, and then jump and did a chest bump - I was totally not expecting that and everyone was laughing at that haha

during the bend and snap scene, elle says that it works on straight and bi men

the news reporter reporting the trial is now replace with the delta nus watching the news coverage on a phone (and the reporter is a voice over) - I thought it was a nice addition!

my friend said that a fun update that they should have done was paulette and kyle taking an uber instead of an ambulance to the hospital haha

when elle tests the bend and snap on nikkos, there is a guard standing next to him and the guard’s eyes bulges out (he reacts haha) every time elle does it (and nikkos doesn’t) and it was very funny

I didn't notice it but my friend pointed out that elle doesn't sing during gay or european. I figured that it was so she can rest for a song. my friend said that it's bc elle already knows that she's right and doesn't need to reason it out like everyone else. I guess both can be true haha

I completely forgot to look out for carlos during the song but there was no need bc he wasn't sitting with the cast - he busted in through the stage doors haha

my friend said it would have been funny if carlos was sitting in the audience and honestly now I want that to happen in a production now hahaha

also carlos and nikkos are both dressed in black

callahan actually pushes elle against the wall (side of the stage) when he kisses her - it is like a full on make out but then she pushes him off her and then slaps him

warner walks and sees them kissing and then immediately walks out. vivienne stays long enough to see the slap

okay talked about the ballad already haha

when emmett says *and I don’t have to hit on interns professor*, elle’s dad rises a bit but elle’s mom pulls him down and they talk - really like that detail. gotta love parents concerned for their daughter

oh instead of it being just like apprentice, the delta nus call brooke a girlboss

the scene of the crime now comes with pink caution tape - very funny seeing them pulling it across the front of the stage haha

the court stenographer is a guy! The way he sang back *omigod we rock!* was very funny haha

during find my way, callahan comes out and glares at emmett when it’s said that his wife hired emmett to handle their messy divorce

paulette gives her cards to audience members in the front row!

elle is in a pink graduation gown

elle gets the ring from paulette and then proposes to emmett. he spins her around

curtain call: they all stood in one line and sang while doing different poses

overall it was great!! better than we expected haha - my friend and I have our nitpicks haha but we had a great time :) (main letdown was no door haha) also yay for filipino elle :)

also! some random thoughts that we had from watching this production:

- how did warner get the internship? like he didn't work as hard as the other people (we're assuming). we now figure that it might be that warner's dad called in a favor

- callahan's wife getting a divorce - that means that elle and emmett must have told her? And they must have reported him to the school so did harvard fire him? does he still have his law firm? my friend thinks that he is a slimy enough lawyer - that he got to keep both positions. I like to think that he got fired

- patrick page would make a great callahan

[throamguide]

hi!! do u know why anna decided not to rewrite and publish throam as an original work?

Hi! First off, some background: even in 2017-2018, when Anna was posting about the rewrite and talking about publishing it, she was open about the fact that it might never happen: "A rewritten version might never get published, anyway, so don't freak out." (X)

It also wouldn't be easy to rid it of its fanfiction past, as with something like 50 Shades of Gray (Twilight AU fic) because of THROAM's relative internet fame.

Anna also disliked when bandom people IRL (people she wrote about) would find out about THROAM because of fans bringing it up to them. Which is completely understandable. Because it happened quite a bit. She sums it up well in a heated post from 2019: Choice. And it had to be said because a lot of people ended up referencing, asking about, or even reading THROAM, presumably because of fans: Dallon, Jon, Vicky, Keltie, Z Berg...

Anna also moved away from bandom in general and started writing about K-pop groups (she's still at it!) and hinted at some original fiction. Finleighsaid, her URL towards the end of her Tumblr days, was some sort of reference to an original character of her's (I think?).

While writing this I had a look at the THROAM Fanlore page (which I helped write because my teenage self had no life) and found Anna's explanation as to why she stopped rewriting it:

March 25, 2019

Monday confessionals - I haven’t even had wine or anything. Some juice, though. Is sugar a drug?

Anyway, it is yet again that I have not posted anything here for a good while, and in the interest of Managing Expectations (whose? idk) I thought I’d give an update. Or, nay, a nopedate. (I’m sorry, I’m trying.) When last summer I decided that perhaps I ought to work the trilogy towards publication, I was working part-time and was kind of weighing my options as to what to do in life. (I still am. Is anyone out there a career counsellor? Please send me some help, thanks.) Anyway, I had time to work on the rewrite in cafés after or before work, and I was quite into it! Then I swapped for a full-time job and all of my rewrite efforts, essentially, ceased. I realise now why I wrote the story when I was a student: I had sooooo much time. From 2009 to 2019, I suddenly don’t have that luxury anymore.

So what I am saying is that, from my end, and for now, the project is definitely on hiatus. You know, like one of your favourite emo bands. I don’t want to mislead people into thinking I am actively working on the project when I haven’t touched it in weeks or even months. I don’t know if my situation will change in the future, or if this is the universe telling me to let it go. I know some people definitely want me to just let the story be! And I know some really want to see it published, too. And you know what, if I ever did publish it, people would always just shrug it off as bandom fic, and it’s hard for me to deal with the reality of people constantly looking down at something I love very dearly. So I have my hesitations and reservations, and I have Dean stood at Venice Beach in 1969, staring at the waves and a decade of stardom.

I have always been my most successful in producing and finishing stories when I have selfishly written whatever makes me happy. I suppose the rewrite is not that for me right now.

Thank you for your patience. Soul searching is hard. xx

[epersonae]

fic etc (new version!)

[update March 21, 2024]

These days I'm writing fic for Our Flag Means Death.

Longfic

I have three finished long pieces, in order of connectedness to canon:

Hungry for love, ready to drown (T, 33K) - a Stede POV retelling of season one starting with episode four, lots of missing scenes (so much with clothing but also wound care! dream sequence!). My love letter to canon; I watched those episodes so many times in little bursts to really absorb the writing and acting, and I'm very proud of the results. Goes well with S2 prep, if I may say so. Will probably definitely most likely get a sequel, but it's taking me a while to figure out how to approach it.

the devil's threeway (E, 30K) - Ed POV, starts with a pre-canon encounter with Jack and (non-canonical) Anne Bonney, follows up with a post-S1 meet-up with Anne and (also non-canonical) Mark Read, and then a somewhat unusual reunion with Stede. Includes the fic where Ed would not. Stop. Crying. There is a reasonably likelihood that I will write something similar or equivalent with the canon versions of Anne and Mary, but it's still marinating.

for the benefit of all the broken hearts (E, 62K) - the not RPF but not not RPF that is maybe the best thing I've ever written in any medium for any reason: a fix-it fic for the gorgeous and weird Water Flowing Underground, told from the perspective of the unnamed second wife. My exploration of the aftermath of tragedy, the possibility of repair, and varieties of love. Read the tags, read the author's note, read WFU first (or don't, I'm not the boss of you, and I do know someone who read them out of order and still enjoyed it), but please give it a shot. Posts tagged #carlita coded content are related to this work, sometimes very obliquely. There is also a follow-up fic of missing scenes, end up several worlds away, that still has one chapter remaining (I SWEAR I'm going to finish it), and a short sort of non-linear AU, back on my beat, that explores some alternate endings.

Some favorite shorter pieces

I have begun to long for you, a "mutiny against Izzy succeeds" canon-divergence AU

nice either way, my contribution to the Beard Discourse

Commit to the Bit, modern AU blackbonnet engagement and wedding

Season 2 and post-S2 fic

I spit on your grave - post-S2, Stede and Ed have a serious conversation, starting with how Ed didn't "happen" upon Stede being gut-stabbed, and going some tough places from there

lost and found - post-S2, featuring beach comber Stede and those cake toppers

Through the storm - the crew of the Revenge between episodes 2 and 3. slow and creepy!

in case I never make it through to where you are - bad ending AU set at the end of 3. MIND THE TAGS, it's a rough one.

Other stuff

Occasionally I post OFMD fic recommendations, which started as a weekly thing but, you know. They are still posted in sets of five on Fridays, when I do them, and tagged #five fic friday. (There's no particular system to my listings, just stuff I like that's not PWP.)

Not fic: I am doing a little project where I make/recreate recipes that I have written down but haven't made in a long time (or ever) - that can be found under the tag #food as play. Includes my rewrite of the 40 Orange Cake Recipe!

I have also written a lot of fic for The Adventure Zone, my favorite being The Reckoning Arrives, a 77k fic in which Lucretia, Taako, Merle, and Carey go looking for Kalen.

I wrote quite a bit of my TAZ fic with my late spouse Ryn (@taakovapes). Ryn died in September 2021; here's the post I wrote the week they died. I often post/tag about them and death and grief. (See tags #not all exits are made equal, #[grief dab], and #posts I wish I could send to Ryn in particular.)

[sloanescasebook]

Update

Hey guys! Just letting y'all know, progress is being made. I got a little side tracked working on some original stuff, work,family stuff and before I knew it was the end of beginning of march -__-

But, after rereading and getting back int he swing of things, the next chapter is coming along nicely. I wrote a really rough, skeleton-like draft of the next few chapters together and now fleshing out the very next one. A few things are still in flux but I'm liking it so far.

Some may have noticed we're getting close to the end of the canon series.

But not here!

I still got stuff I want to write about with Sloane and NIck and the others, and a generally very different ending in mind. I mean, we got four other bones to find...

Without spoiling anything, some inspirations I know I want to hit:

-Dracula

-Puss in Boots (the story, not the movies)

-Prince and the Pauper (might combine with puss because the ideas I have are similar...)

-more Japanese urban legends and folklore

-Bloody Mary

-Aladdin

-More Fae shenanigans!

-Mim and Jean finally get married! And maybe someone else...

-The triplets!

-stuff i don't know how to not spoil!

Some maybes:

-thumbalina (an old favorite but...how? without being really out of place?)

-Pygmalion (might be too much like Disguise and Dolls with the perfect children?)

-Ugly Duckling (did "I want to be beautiful" story way back with Killer Looks, based more on those "good sister, bad sister" sort of stories...So more like someone not fitting in? Adoption gone wrong? Jealousy over someone else becoming pretty? It is a classic.)

-Nightingale. (Technically I think "The thing with feathers" was working on this one as a theme with her having the gold nugget in her throat instead of a golden voice--combing it with the goose that laid the golden egg. But I was thinking something with the shady part of the music industry could be interesting...)

-Snow White and Rose Red--I was kind of picturing Sloane and Juliette/Eve in these roles, but I feel like we've settled that...

-Time whimey bullshit--jumping the shark?

==========

That's what I'm running with right now.

Do you guys have any ideas? I make not guarantees, but I'd love to hear them. Is there a tale I"m forgetting or don't know that would be perfect? An urban legend? A piece of classic literature? Do you think Grimm dropped the ball with one idea? Let me know!

[theanimesimgirl]

hey hey 👋

So guys,

I think I may bring back Kayley, If you remember my old Sim series, she was my wife and the mother of my children but in a life update back in late March early April, I had a falling out with irl Kayley. It broke my heart…but I’m ok now. So y’all are probably wondering OK so what’s the point of all this? Well, I’m bringing her back into the series because during the time all the b.s. Was going on. I would have these weird dreams of her getting pregnant, which I’ll put the dreams I had down below. But during that time that she was she got a boyfriend and as soon as she got that, I started having those weird pregnancy dreams. So I decided what if I make this into a good storyline. so I will let y’all vote before you do that. Make sure you read what happens in my dreams and tell me what y’all think it means.thank you my loves ❤️

dream #1:

so this is the first dream I ever had of her and I’m just gonna put down all the things I can recall from the dream… so it’s weird. I’m walking in like some sort of park. The sun is like a really shiny golden color as if the sun is setting from what I remember, and a girl that looks like another one of my ex friends comes up to me and we’re talking… then I see Kayley walking by and she has a huge baby bump I guess my dream I said something… and the girl that I’m talking to in my dream goes”oh yeah that’s Kathryn and she’s pregnant”

dream #2:

This extreme is not pregnancy related, but it’s relevant… Basically, it was a dream where she broke up with her boyfriend and she was crying, and I couldn’t do anything, but look at her

dream #3:

This one was about gender of her baby in my dream. So basically. I’m talking to her. She brings up the fact that she’s pregnant again and she was saying it’s a boy, but I felt it was a girl and that’s the last I ever had that I can recall.

The last thing I remember is waking up and being like “WTF AM I DREAMING ABOUT?!!!”

So if I decide to make this a series, I will start it from when we’re still in school because that’s when it mainly takes place, because we are still in school, and I’ll do twins since I’m really confused on everything else

[celestiall0tus]

Update Moving into February thru March

Hello everyone! It's been a hot minute since I did one of these updates, but I figured I would share what is going on and the content that I'm working on. So, let's crack into this.

Miraculous AU and Separate Worlds remains shelved. Sorry everyone. Absolution does as well until I enter a macabre mood, so hope for a wacky lunar cycle like October 2023.

Paradise is temporarily shelved while I work on other projects as the inspiration is flowing with them.

Into the Fire and Lady and the Scoundrel will be worked on periodically. I have ideas floating around for the progression of them, it's just a matter of finding the motivation to write them. The ideas are there, just lacking in motivation.

Salvation is going to receive some love. So, after reading the existing chapters to a young gremlin that wanted to hear the story, I was absolutely appalled by the quality of writing. I literally looked at my IRL friend and told her how shit the fucking writing was and how ashamed of myself I let it see the light of day. A few grammar errors are one thing, but Salvation was a chore to read. So, expect that to be edited down again and reblogged. That must be done before I consider continuing the story. I personally apologize for letting such sloppy writing be posted. Shame on me.

Amaranthine I want to finish. I had hit a small snag in the writing as I needed to reassign kwamis to the heroes for the final mission. I had ideas floating around, but it wasn't until chatting with a pair in my discord (which shoutout to @authorambermkestner and @adventuremaker21 for helping me gather my thoughts) that I was able to assign the team kwamis for the final mission. Designs are made for the four getting new kwamis that I may get colored soon, or after I write more of Amaranthine, we'll see. Just know I am in the home stretch, I had hit a small snag, but it's resolved and will be finished soon.

Court of Miracles I'm working on periodically (having a cocreator helps with the muse, thank you anon <3). As I work on Court, I will get designs out as I write as there are a lot of designs to make and have found that this is the best for me to get the designs done.

Scions is the current that I'm working on as the newest piece. Designs for this will be done as I move through the story. I have the primary designs done (save for Marc and his is coming). A lot of the cast will either be quest givers or enemies moving forward. I have some fun ideas lined up for the "campaign."

Siren's Song is... having a small change. I know I keep saying I want to do more just casual storytelling, but I end up lying to myself and y'all. So, here I am again to say that I will be writing it out because that's just me. However, I keep to this for Siren's Song. This is meant to be something of a collab of sorts. I have a skeleton of what I'm thinking for a lot of plot and plot points. I will be open throughout the entire story to suggestions for other ideas, plot points, etc. So, to anyone that want to participate in a zany, crazy au where we just let loose and indulge in madness (like my norm). As such, expect a little bit more detail on Siren's Song come tomorrow (it's about midnight for me as typing this, so sleep soon)

Now, I know that sounds really stupid to write this way and why not just "write what you want?" One, I've written a lot of what I want, which is extremely dark, angst riddled, and borderline macabre (ignoring Absolution that is a full on horror). Make no mistake, I've got such plans with Siren's Song that involve angst for you, my dear audience that eats that shit up (and for that I love y'all <3) So, I still am, but also am having a lot of fun doing a collab writing. So, since this whole Siren's Song, Ivangami stuff started by an anon just suggesting it and liking the ship, which grew from there, I wanted to involve my audience as the initial concept came from y'all and grew from y'all. It was honestly fun making something a little more catered to what y'all wanted to see while having my own fun. Again, more details will come in the morning.

That is all for the time being. I thank y'all for the support that y'all have given me and look forward to more devilish writings in the future.

[the-window-monster]

REALLY POLISHED SHORT STORY FROM LAST

TW: Light descriptions of gore, someone being killed by a car, maybe someone going crazy

Kevin kept his gaze steady on the road in front of him. His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel. He hadn't had to take a turn in miles, and he had frequently taken one or both hands completely off to grab a handful of potato chips from the last gas station or to check his email. He wouldn't put it past The Portland Source to message him that time of night, asking for some update on his "supposed big story" or giving him some progressively more pressing deadline.

Kevin shook his head and tried to squash work out of his brain. It was dark, and as he drove forward, he noticed more and more dirt and dust that had begun to kick up in his path. He must have really been getting into the countryside. 

Kevin yawned.

He hadn't seen a gas station for fifteen miles, and he'd have to bargain that it'd be another fifteen until another one cropped up. All around were trees that seemed to wall themselves around his car like a tight, pin-needle blanket. It was at that moment, looking at the linearity of the dirt road in front of him and the trees around him, that he came to the realization that the only way to go was forward in the forest. There was no turning around or getting out. No turning to the side, either. You could only march forward toward the next stop, hoping to find something of your use there. Then you'd have to take up and keep going again, like a bird taking wing in migration, whether it be toward heaven or hell.

So were the tangents that Kevin's mind went in on these sorts of late night drives. It was what he did to keep himself occupied. There was a heavy, unfeeling buzz coming from the radio in his car, like static pouring from the sky and into his mind. Kevin must have been braindead, because at the moment he couldn't feel his eyes focus on anything. He tried to center himself, able to pick up on the faint smell of skunk, from somewhere far away. 

Was it skunk?

A strange thought occurred to him. If someone died out where he was, would they ever find them?

No.

Nobody would ever find them.

Kevin was alone on the road.

He kept on driving forward. Everything had looked the same for the past fifteen miles. Maybe more. He couldn't remember.

In the distance, he thought he might have seen a flashing light, some sort of faint specter in the Kentucky air. A mirage of sorts, not from heat, but of fatigue. Kevin disregarded it, and kept moving forward. He started to blink his eyes shut. Two days, driving out of Maine with about as much sleep as a journalist on Adderall. Kevin scoffed. That's exactly what he was. His publication's errand boy, nabbing at little, local stories like a hungry dog nipping scraps off the table. He hoped that it wasn't for nothing, all of this. Perhaps, somehow, he could finally get a step ahead after all this time being discarded.

Not to mention all that snow and ice he had driven through. That was a nightmare.

He dreamed of one day taking up and moving down to a place like Kentucky. Starting a family. He always thought he'd like to have a son. He would teach him how to fish and how to build a chair or a table.

Maybe he could homeschool his son, if he could get a good enough deal with a publication. His girlfriend, whom he was nearly sure was going to end up being his wife, would be amazing with that. Sylvie had expressed how much she would love a situation in which she could stay home. 

Now Kevin's mind was racing. He could also help teach his son how to write. How to construct a word, then a sentence, then a paragraph, and then an article or a story or a poem. He could buy a big house out in the countryside for the family, and it all could start with this one story. Just a few interviews in Texas. Then things would look up.

He was going to be better, now.

He opened his eyes.

The light he had once seen now completely encased the front side of his car.

He heard a shout, then a scream. Muffled, then cut short.

He pretended he didn't hear that.

His car rolled over something. Rumbled through the metal. Stopped the radio.

Silence.

Dead silence.

The sound of the radio flickered back, trickling down from the ceiling and drowning him, filling his lungs and boiling his blood. He was in Kentucky. It was a deer. No other animal was that size. Hunters did worse to deers. After all, nobody else was on the road.

His car wasn't running right, cracking and squeaking, down in the axels. He stopped it.

He opened the door and looked behind him. He wanted to scream, to get on his knees and bawl, but when he tried to, nothing happened.

No one was there. No one would know.

No one would find the body.

It wasn't his fault, was it? They jumped out in front of him. He would only hurt himself if he told anyone. The police would arrest him.

Sylvie’s face appeared in his mind. The way her hair fell in front of her ears, the little sparkle her eyes would get when she talked about the future. He couldn't do that to her. It wasn't like saying anything was going to bring anyone back to life.

What was done was done. He could feel his ears ringing, his stomach was turning in on itself. No, no. This happened to him, too. He didn't ask for this. He was just as much a casualty.

He got back in his car.

Dead silence outside.

The sound of a crow, cackling from a tree. Kevin looked at the bird, which looked back at him in such a manner that Kevin knew that he had to leave. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal. He could hardly keep his hands around the steering wheel, shaking, white and pale. The shadow flew above his car, circling around it. He sped down the country road, faster than he had driven ever in his entire life. If there would have been a sudden turn, he would have flown off the road and down into a ditch to burn, but the curvature of the road remained the same. 

The bird was still above his car.

No, it wasn't. Birds didn’t move that fast. If it was still above his car, that meant it wasn't a bird at all.

He had just killed a man.

Or was it a woman? He couldn't tell in the condition the body was in.

Why did he care about a bird?

Why?

He slowed his pace down, back to what he had been driving at before. Nobody had to know. Keep on toward Texas, he told himself. What could he do about it? Though he greatly grieved the situation, it was their fault for standing in the road. Kevin hadn't been drinking. He hadn't done anything wrong. He just needed to go on and start his life.

There was dead silence outside.

Nothing could be heard. Not a cricket, not a rustle in the bushes, just Kevin, a sputtering car engine, and the faintest sound of a bird flying above him.

The cackle of a crow grabbed him, shook him back to his senses. He pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal, as fast as he could. There had to be a gas station somewhere within the next few miles. He'd go there. He had to get off the road. Every single one of the trees that had once smothered his car now hugged it like a scarf, tightening their grasp and making sure he choked. 

Kevin couldn't breathe. He looked up, above his car. A bird's silhouette, stark against the moon. He slammed his head into the steering wheel.

"God, I'm sorry!" He screamed as loud as he could.

What looked like a building was coming up. He could recoup there. Maybe he had imagined the whole thing, going a bit crazy after all the time driving. He pulled his car into the parking lot and ran into the gas station. Nobody was inside. The shelves were stocked with food brands that Kevin had never heard of, and a machine carried out the transactions with a clawed tray and a monotone, beeping scanner. Dirt and filth stuffed itself in the corners of the building.

Kevin needed to go to the bathroom. It was just about the only place he felt wasn’t a madhouse. He would splash some cold water on his face, take a breather, and turn around to go to Louisville.

He repeated the name of the city in his mind over and over. Louisville. Louisville.

Once he got to the city, he could stop by a nice hotel and get the sleep he deserved, then this bad dream would finally get out of his life. He’d make his way down to Texas, interview the Dallas police force, write up a few articles, and go home. He’d talk to Sylvie, and he’d put the money back into his savings. Then everything would be normal.

The cold water felt good on his face. It seemed like it had washed off a non-existent layer of dirt that had caked onto him. His hair was disheveled. He took his fingers and combed it until he thought that he looked at least somewhat presentable. The word repeated in his mind again. Louisville.

Kevin got out of the bathroom with a sense of peace, an innate calmness that rested in his chest. He was going to be okay. Everything was. He took a bag of off-brand potato chips, put it in the transaction machine, and pocketed it. He got outside, took a breath of sweet old Kentucky, and started to walk back to his car.

That’s when three jolts of pain shot through Kevin’s head and down into his neck. He fell down onto the cracked asphalt, looking up to see a ruffled mess of black feathers and screechy cackling. He put his arms around his head in an attempt to ward the bird off, but it didn’t do much but make it retarget itself to his hair. It started pulling out chunks of hair with its beak, and Kevin had started screaming from the pain. He got a hold of the bird, not without it taking one last lock, and chucked it down onto the pavement. It made a pained noise before scuttering away into the darkness.

Kevin looked at his car. It was splattered all over the front, from the bumper all the way to the hood. Kevin broke out in a cold sweat as tears started rolling down his face. For a moment, Kevin turned around back toward the gas station and tried to control himself, but he couldn’t stop. There was blood on his car, all over it. The sound of his weeping resonated through the unfeeling forest. It was futile. So, so futile. Kevin held his arms around his body in a sort of self-hugging. He felt guilty for even that. He was a murderer.

He wiped his eyes and looked around. There was an old water hose attached to the side of the gas station. He could tell it had used to be green, but now it was brown from all the years of wear and tear. It barely reached his car, but the water could easily wash everything off. Kevin bowed his head down and did so. He had no other choice, he reasoned. Wash it away, he told himself. Just wash it all away. Pretend it didn’t happen. 

Kevin threw the hose back to the side of the gas station, not even bothering to put it back on the hook.

He went to the door of his car, and that’s when he realized that it had come back. He heard a rustle in the trees, and then he saw it. Its wings were spread out in the air, catching the moonlight in such a way that it looked like an unholy angel, descending from the heavens. He lurched his head back, but it didn’t quell the crow at all. It swooped down, talons extended, and landed on his shirt collar, weaving forward and biting his neck. He tried to push it away again, but when he tried to, it was gone.

He got in the car and started it. The engine gave a low growl, and the car radio was playing some song from the fifties or sixties in its staticky, muffled way. That’s when he decided to check the damage. He put his hand on his neck where the bird had bit him and held it in front of his face. His palm had a considerable amount of blood on it. He squinted at it for a moment, and even under the fog of his vision, something didn’t quite feel right. His nails felt sore, an almost seething, stinging sensation.

He turned his hand around only to discover, burrowed into his nail beds were little brown strands. For a brief moment, he thought it could have hair, but he quickly disposed of this thought. He was being tricked by the bird, and the only way to escape it was to get out of these woods.

“Louisville,” He whispered to himself, under a whimpering breath.

He was back on a straight, dirt road, just like the previous fifty miles. He diverted away from the road where the accident had happened, instead taking a longer detour. He would not look at what he had done. Never. He kept down the road, and on this street, he saw less forestry and more of those big country houses with clouded windows that he thought he might have seen a figure through. Was it looking at him, or was it looking away, disgusted? He sped past those roads. 

After long enough, he finally saw the road sign, rusted on the side of the road: “Thirty miles to Louisville”. 

Kevin felt hope trickle into his car. Even on the radio, the song “Here Comes The Sun” by The Beatles was playing. Something still stuck to him, wormed its way under his skin and into his brain. He understood that feeling would never go away, but maybe he could try to live a normal life. He thought about his girlfriend. Sylvie. 

Then he thought about the way she’d look if she saw the blood on his car. Then he thought about how he would feel if Sylvie had disappeared one day, only for him to slowly come to the realization that she was dead. He would sit and not know what happened to her, pouring over their text messages for some sort of clue. 

The image of a blood-soaked corpse lying motionless on a dirt road entered his mind, and he almost threw up.

Then he felt a presence.

“God, please no.”

In the passenger’s seat of his car, perched so calmly, was the crow. Kevin jumped back and swerved completely off the road, tumbling down a small hill and crashing into a fence post. He was launched forward, barely catching himself on the steering wheel before he broke his nose. Somehow, his car had seemed to suffer minimal damages for the situation, but it sure as hell wasn’t in a driveable state.

The bird hadn’t moved an inch. It remained in the exact place it had been before he had crashed.

“Kevin.” It spoke in a raspy voice.

Kevin shook his head.

“Did you really think I’d let you keep going?" The bird itself almost sounded pained.

"I don't…It's not my fault."

"That's your problem.”

“I don't…” Kevin reached into his pocket and got his phone out. He opened his camera, turned on his flashlight, and pointed it at the bird.

Where it had been, only dust and leather. He turned the camera off, and the bird was back, sitting in the exact same place it had been before. He swiped it past the bird a few times, finally throwing his phone down into the car floor. He thought he might have heard the screen crack.

He kicked it over and over until he felt satisfied, then he glared back at the car seat next to his.

"I'm sure you can find a better use for your cell phone, Kevin."

Somehow, he knew exactly what it had meant. He thought he must have looked like a scared puppy, but nonetheless, he reached down and picked his phone up. He dialed 911, slicing his finger in the process. 

A singular drop of blood fell on the phone screen. He normally would have felt something about it, but all that he could muster was numbness.

“911, what’s your emergency?” The respondent sounded like a middle-aged woman. She spoke professionally, like she had done this a hundred thousand times before.

“I’ve run my car off the road. I crashed into a fence post.”

“Are you injured?”

“No.”

“Is anyone else in the car with you?” He looked at the bird. Its eyes were hollow, directed on him. Even from two feet away Kevin felt like the bird was breathing down his neck. “No ma’am.”

“How much damage has your vehicle suffered?”

Kevin stumbled over his words a bit, “The front looks like a crushed soda can. I don’t think the engine’s working.”

“I advise you to step out of the car. We’ll have officers heading your way soon.”

Kevin spoke in a meek tone. “Thanks.”

The phone hung up, and Kevin got out of the car, not taking his eye off the bird.

It didn’t really matter if he got out, because the bird simply turned its head, opened its beak, and kept talking.

“I didn’t want this for you.”

“Well it sure as hell seems like you did.”

“You’re a coward.”

“Why would you say that?” Kevin already knew why, but for some reason, asking felt appropriate.

The bird spoke, or did it? Kevin didn't actually see its beak move. “I said that because of the mangled body you left behind. He drew his last breath only minutes ago.”

Kevin didn’t say anything.

The bird’s voice cleared. It sounded almost human-like. “He laid in agony for hours, Kevin. I knew the hit was a god-honest mistake, but driving away wasn’t.” The bird fluttered onto the car window, and perched there. “You could have stopped. You could have saved him, but instead, you let your fear bury your conscience.”

“Oh, how nice of a life you could have had! The world was at your fingertips, waiting patiently for you to grab it. You, Kevin, only you, have destroyed it all.”

As the sirens from the police car became progressively more audible, the bird cackled. “I hope you have the life that you deserve.” The crow spread out its moonlit wings, and whisked off into the trees.

Kevin turned around to see a police car and fell to his knees. He must have looked crazy with pulled-out hair and blood-specked clothes and a car driven off the road for seemingly no reason. 

As the officer approached, Kevin spoke between strangled breaths.

“Officer, I have a confession to make.”

[the-draconic-summit]

•Draconic Summit Spring 2023 is in less than a month now! Here’s everything you need to know for this season’s event and registering! If you have any inquiries or questions, please feel free to DM our social media accounts or any of the summit staff! We look forward to seeing you!

•Applications for artists, event panelists, and event streamers will be open until a week before the summit starts. You will have to DM our social media account or contact one of the summit staff on discord with your statement! Be sure you have some sort of plan for what you’re going to present to attendees.

•If you are a panelist, you’ll need to DM the summit staff and ask for an available time slot. Currently our schedule is mostly open, so if you are interested in presenting something at a specific time, the best time to contact us and claim that time slot is now!

•Artists, panelists, and event streamers will get access to the official event server one week before the event, the invites will be given out to those who have signed up as either of those three presenters on March 10th 2023.

•There will be movies shown in the official event server a day before the event! If you have any movie suggestions, feel free to DM one of the summit staff and we’ll see if we can accommodate that request!

•Just like last year, draconic discussion panels will be hosted, so if you want to share your experiences on those panels, think about what exactly you want to share!

•As stated in the past, there are two ways to register for the draconic summit, through submitting a response in the google form or by joining the draconic basin discord server! By joining the draconic basin discord server, you not only get regular updates regarding the event, you also get an invite link to the event server earlier than anyone else!

•Spread the word around! Everyone is welcome to attend the summit regardless of if they’re dragonkin or not! We had 78 peeps attend the autumn summit last year, we would love it if the number of attendees this year increased!

[wellpresseddaisy]

Hubert Prewett Makes an Entrance pt. 5

"I would love to hear it!" Hermione's eyes lit with excitement. "I could hardly find anything in the history section that gave a comprehensive view."

"Perhaps Malfoy would tell it better?" Neville hedged. "I'll probably forget half of it."

"Malfoy," Malfoy began. "Would like to hear it from a different perspective. I've only ever heard my father tell the tale."

"Oh, well." Neville took a deep breath. "In the middle of the fifteenth century, what had once been tolerated became anathema. Witches, they said, went among them. They were right, to a point. Magicals had existed happily alongside non-magicals for centuries. Even adopting Christianity hadn't caused much of a problem. The early church was more…mystical, I suppose, and saw real magic as a gift.

Then the printing press came, followed by other machines and things. It may have been progress of a sort, but the relentless march toward modernity narrowed their world-view. Magic, once a mystery, a miracle, became something to fear.

The fear turned to hate. Slowly at first, so slowly that the magical community didn't notice, witch hunts started. They rarely caught an actual magical. Most of the people tortured and…and…and murdered weren't like us. They didn't have magic—they had land or they'd annoyed the people in charge or they weren't the right religion according to the religion in charge. That made them witches.

When neighbor after neighbor was taken for questioning, tortured, and hanged, the magical community knew they had to act. They had to remove themselves from the non-magical world. They couldn't stand by and watch people they cared for dragged off and…I don't want to describe what was done to them." Neville broke off.

"You don't have to." Ron told him. "Er, it's a rule at home. You don't have to talk about, er, upsetting things and no one can make fun of you. It mostly works."

"I cannot imagine," Draco butted in. "Having such terrible manners that one would jest about another's discomfort."

"You haven't met Fred and George yet." Ron sighed. "They…well, mum says they mean well."

"And I hope I won't meet them." Draco sniffed. 

"Anyway, Nev, go on. You can leave out the bits you don't like." Ron prompted.

"It's interesting." Hugh agreed. 

"Well, once they realized what was happening, they started to plan. It was local, at first, but many different groups came to the same decision. The first meeting to discuss what should be done was the start of the ICW. It took almost two centuries to prepare, first to figure out how to remove us and then to get ready for such an undertaking. What happened was the greatest of the Great Workings. For nine days and nine nights in 1692, magicals across the globe joined in. Er, I'm not sure of the details, but I think it involved a lot of charm work and runes. And probably arithmancy. At the end, though, the magicals made a perfect copy of the existing world and moved there. 

Since then, we've largely stayed out of non-magical life. There are some problems that crop up, but Ron would know more about that. And…that's how the Great Working happened." Neville looked happy he'd finished. 

"And now I know what to call it so I can find more information!" Granger exclaimed. "Thank you, Longbottom."

"You're welcome." He mumbled.

"That was very interesting, Longbottom, thank you." Draco said. "I think I'll join Granger in looking for more information."

"But the copy," Granger started, her eyebrows drawn down. "That's what we're in now, right?"

"You go through the barrier at nine and three-quarters." Bulstrode explained. "There's entry points throughout both worlds."

"But…if it was copied in the late seventeenth century, how are there trains?" Granger gestured to their snug compartment.

"Oh, we've updated since then. Every so often something really brilliant comes along—like the turnpike or trains—and we have another Great Working to update. Some have done smaller ones for indoor plumbing. It only gets tricky working out what can't be replaced." Ron explained. "Dad said non-magical London's changed a lot even since he was young."

"So…you do realize that this makes very little sense?" Granger huffed. "Why wouldn't you…I don't know…develop different things? Why trains? Why not aeroplanes?"

"Skylanes are for broom travel and portkeys." Malfoy said in the tone of someone who had heard it thousands of times and would probably need to hear it a thousand more. "Even though air travel looks tremendously exciting."

"Trains work pretty well with magic, too. We could probably get aeroplanes to work, but I don't think we could get anything like the size of non-magical ones." Bulstrode looked thoughtful. "Perhaps as a novelty? We have so many different ways to travel. I don't think they make sense any other way."

"There is that." Malfoy sighed. "Why sit in a tube hurtling through the air when a portkey is faster? And port-tunnels mean you can get on a train in London and off a train in…oh, I don't know…somewhere in the Americas. Or there's ocean liners, but those are a good bit slower than a portkey or a train."

"My gran." Longbottom started and then stopped abruptly when everyone looked to him.

"Go on, Nev." Ron encouraged him.

"Er, she likes boat travel better. Says she doesn't understand why we're all rushing about all the time now and port-tunnels are newfangled nonsense."

"Mother thinks taking an ocean liner is more dignified." Malfoy agreed. "I never thought she'd agree with Dowager Longbottom on anything."

Neville shook his head slowly, grinning. "I'll have to tell gran. Maybe she'll sponsor an aeroplane, Malfoy."

"Dad likes the convenience of port-tunnels. He's home more now, too." Bulstrode put in.

"Are there books that explain about all these things?" Hugh asked. "I tried to look, but we didn't have much time for shopping."

"I'll ask mother to look." Bulstrode promised. "She had a knack for finding things."

"Is it politics, why your Gran and Malfoy's mother wouldn't agree?" Granger asked suddenly. 

"Mostly." Malfoy answered while Longbottom said "Oh, yes "

"It's like that here, too?" Hermione looked despondent. "Only I've lost friends because my parents are very loudly Not Tories."

"It depends." Longbottom tried. "Some don't particularly care, but some do, very much."

"And your Gran cares?"

"Not as much as my parents." Malfoy answered the question. "I expect mother and father will be put out once they discover who I sat with, but mother's the one who gave me a book all about developing your own personal moral code. If she didn't want me doing just that, she oughtn't have given me a copy."

"Gran keeps telling me to have my own views about things and then tells me that they aren't the right ones. I just don't tell her much now." Longbottom shrugged. 

"Er…well, they can't be much worse than my non-magical relatives." Hugh gripped his notebook hard to keep his hands from shaking. "They didn't like anything they thought was weird…and…well…"

"Yes." Malfoy agreed. "I'd imagine they would find accidental magic…er, distressing?"

"My parents thought they might need to get a priest in and they don't even go to any kind of church." Granger bit back a giggle. "Daddy saw me levitate out of my crib."

"You're unchurched?" Longbottom asked. "I don't think I've ever met someone unchurched before."

"Really?" Granger pounced on that bit of information like a terrier after a rat. "Does everyone go to some kind of religious service?"

"I don't know." Longbottom shrugged. "Even if they don't believe people tend to turn out for Sunday service where I live, but that might be fear of Gran more than a deep belief. Gran thinks it's scandalous the way some carry on these days. She says Sunday observance might do them some good."

"I don't think every religion has compulsory service attendance." Bulstrode mused. "Some of my cousins are Jewish and they don't have to go to a service every week."

"My family has been Celtic Rite Catholic since there was such a thing. Well, there may be a few Romans in the past, but once we came to England it was the Celtic Rite for us. Imagine going to Mass in a building? With anything not nailed down gilded." Malfoy shook his head in disbelief. "It's a bit nippy in January, though, even with warming charms."

"We're CoE." Ron butted in. "Mum likes the plainer service."

"This is so interesting!" Granger enthused. "If…no. It's probably a silly question."

"What is it, Granger?" Hugh prompted. He doubted she'd have a silly question.

"Yes, do ask, Granger. We can't judge whether or not it's silly unless you do. Ow! Why are you kicking me, Bulstrode?" Malfoy reached down to rub his ankle in affronted silence.

"You're being insufferable again. I told you I'd boot you in the ankle if you were. In any case, Granger, please tell us." Bulstrode smiled at the other girl.

"Well," Granger hedged. "If we can't find a book or books explaining all of these things…could we write them down, together, as things come up? Maybe…maybe when we're older we could publish it. For…for new students like Hugh and me who didn't grow up in this world."

"Don't see why we can't." Ron considered the question. "Don't know why it hasn't been done."

"I think it would be better, even if there's something like out there, because it's people who grew up magical and people who didn't writing it together." Longbottom spoke decidedly. 

"It can be our project." Bulstrode added. "Dad said that you should always get your schoolwork done so you aren't falling behind, but you should also have personal projects. Something about being well-rounded. I believe he raised silkworms and learned to spin and weave."

"And," Malfoy clearly didn't want to be left out. "We'll make sure we find out the why of things. You can't write a good guide without that."

Percy smiled behind his book and slid a notebook into Hugh's lap while the others were distracted.

"I have a notebook for it." Hugh grinned. "We can start now."

[thunder-of-dragons]

It's been a while since I sat down and wrote anything about what's going on in my life. So I figured I should do that. Anyways, here's life updates from Thunder:

I moved!

Yes, again. Back in January-ish. Still in Colorado. Still loving the view of the mountains, though I do miss being surrounded by mountains no matter where I looked. I'm enjoying having easier access to modern privileges and necessities, though, now that I live and work in what could be considered to be cities.

I started a new job!

Yes, again. I'm no longer teaching, and I have to say that I really enjoy being able to leave work at work and not worry about it at home (unless I'm working from home, which I have the flexibility to do). Though sales has its problems, I sell insurance, and it's nice that I get to sell something that legitimately helps people stay on their feet during hard times. I have a boss who actually cares about my well-being as a person, and I have a coworker who's great to work and chat with. I don't dread doing my job anymore.

I started therapy!

Yes, again. I think I'll actually make some progress on all of the trauma I've been trying to face with this one (if I can afford to continue to see her). It's been kind of an eye-opening experience into what therapy should be. We set goals for my progress (and I'm sort of making progress on them, but life emergencies keep getting in the way), and they have timelines and smaller goals and... yeah. She holds me accountable for my bullshit and also makes sure I recognize when it's actually not my fault that my life is falling apart. It's been really hard, but I can see that in the long run (and sometimes in the now) that it's good for me. Learning how to set and maintain boundaries is proving to be a very, very difficult skill for me to learn, and apparently I'm doing a fucking amazing job! But apparently my spouse and his partners don't appreciate that, so...

I'm getting a divorce!

My spouse asked for us to separate for a year back at the end of March. Literally 6 days after my birthday. He said we both had stuff we needed to work on. I agreed. I was very much over him acting like I should be eternally grateful for the few scraps of attention he'd give me when he wasn't overly focusing on his girlfriend and her kids. He needed to figure his shit out and learn how to manage his time better and actually appreciate the person he re-proposed to back in December. (Me. I'm the person he re-proposed to.) And I'd been basically bending over backwards and not practicing any self-care to take care of all of them while also working full-time. I was exhausted and unappreciated and not getting anything out of it.

I'm working on my shit and trying to be the free-spirited me that I want to be. I'm guessing when my spouse said I needed to figure out who I am, he didn't mean that I should stop bending over backwards for him and his new family while we were separated. I'd been trying to reach out to catch up and meet 1:1 with him. His only responses to trying to meet up were either that he'd forgotten or that he wanted to hang out with me at his girlfriend's house with her and her kids and his boyfriend and get drunk and high. No thanks. I set boundaries. I won't go to her house anymore. I deserve to reserve my time for people who actually want to put in the effort and spend time with me.

So according to my spouse, I've abandoned my spouse's girlfriend's kids, and apparently that's completely inexcusable. (I don't understand how I've done that. I'm confused. I don't think it'll ever make sense.) My spouse also claims I haven't made any attempts to talk him (until he was going into acute treatment for his mental health stuff, which he's blaming me for). He would like a divorce because apparently I clearly don't care about him at all. I would like a divorce because I'm realizing I've been with an abusive asshole for over 8 years.

I am struggling. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically. Financially.

Realizing how seriously I've been abused by my family is hard, even if I was already somewhat aware and already cut off contact with them.

Realizing that my partner of over 8 years has been abusing and controlling me (without my consent) has been really, really hard to come to terms with.

Getting injured in a hit and run that totaled the car I'd been driving to work every day... was devastating. I'm glad I had a few good people around, but my spouse has placed all of the blame for it on me. It was "his" car that got totaled (because we'd agreed that that was the car I should be driving to work every day because it got better gas mileage). We had to go car shopping together while separated. We found a new used car that we agreed I should be in possession of to drive to work because it got way better gas mileage. As of this past weekend, my spouse decided he needed the new car and stopped responding to any of my messages, so I'm stuck driving a horribly giant and inefficient truck for an hour and a half every day with no working A/C. (It hit 100 degrees here today).

My spouse has been taking shared property to his girlfriend's house, and none of it has been coming back to the townhouse we're officially living at. I don't have access to pretty much anything that I've accumulated in my life now. (I mean, I have clothes. I have my yarn arts stuff. But anything else is pretty much gone.)

I've been trying to pay all of the bills on my own since my spouse was laid off at the beginning of May (a week after the hit and run) and has decided he's not looking for a new job. No, it's not fair for me to be paying all of the bills, but I also can't take the hit on my credit score if stuff doesn't get paid... My spouse's boyfriend who lives with us isn't looking for a job (and hasn't worked since November). I've been able to stay afloat because of a couple of really awesome people who are letting me live with them (and carpool with them for an entire month when I didn't have a vehicle at all). But I've only been able to do that because there was leftover claim money from the hit and run. I think my best budgeting efforts will be for naught by the end of this month, and I'm trying to figure out what to do (and how to pay a lawyer because I apparently make too much to qualify for assistance). I might see about opening commissions or something, though I'm not sure what I could offer...

But I'm here. I'm existing. I'm surviving. The awesome @gameofdrarry mods totally understand my need for a break from modding at the moment. Fandom is still providing a great community (and escapism), and I couldn't be more grateful.

[shins-rpc-sources]

IMPORTANT INFO FOR THOSE MAKING NEW RP BLOGS

NOTE: because my other blog got term.i.na.ted i thought i'd go ahead and copy / paste this into a post on here and give a more clear and better understanding of everything.

as some of you are aware, anyone who makes a blog on or after of november 26, 2022 are unable to use LTE. if you've made a blog prior to this update, you will see an option to switch between BTE and LTE in the top right corner of their browser. it would look something like this for those who do have it:

what this means is that the staff is on the roll with fully implementing and enforcing the BETA TEXT EDITOR on everyone. not only that but i'm going to assume that they're going to be making a site wide update within the next month or two ( march at the very latest ). what this means is that literally everybody is going to be forced to use the BTE whether they want to or not.

and not only that but it's gotten to the point to where the new xkit is slowly but surely breaking for people because of how outdated it is and the staff enforcing us to use the BETA TEXT EDITOR. so i definitely recommend y'all going ahead and embracing BETA TEXT EDITOR as well as getting xkit rewritten for when the day actually make the site wide update for literally everybody.

so with that being said, here are a couple of addons i recommend y'all getting:

limit checker: this is an absolute life saver. i kid you not. it tells you the number of asks you sent as well as text / video / videos / etc. posts you've made among a few other things. it's super neat.

mass deleter: unfortunately this only deletes stuff from your drafts and queue but it's definitely worth getting if you have tons of stuff and / or are a hoarder.

mass unliker: i like to sort through my likes every once in a while tbh but if it gets out of hand and you tend to have 8,645,132,154,568 likes then feel free to use this so that you don't have to go through each and every thing in your likes.

mutual checker: do i really need to explain this one?? being able to see who you're moots with via dash is 1,000,000 times easier than going to your followers and CTRL + F nonstop.

tag replacer: having a mass tag replacer is, without a doubt, an absolute life saver. this is especially useful for us roleplayers who tend to change our aesthetics from time to time and have updated our tags. and even if you don't change your tags regularly it's still worth getting this.

tag tracking+: this lets you know when you've been tagged in something!! ah!! 10 out of 10 love it.

timestamps: this is a must for just about all of us in the tumblr rpc. it lets us know when those we follow / moots have posted! so that definitely helps out a lot. it also allows you to choose between the standard format and iso 8601 format, so there's that!

trim posts: thankfully this addon isn't as confusing as it was when first implemented. thankfully it's a lot more user friendly and easier to use now! but keep in mind that you cannot trim legacy posts in this. all replies have to be strictly done in BTE otherwise it's a one-sided editing spree. no exceptions.

there are a bunch of other little addons you can pick from as well but these are some that i use and can't seem to recommend enough tbh!

[aliksims]

Hah! Three months of picking away at this and I’ve finally developed a color palette that I think I will enjoy for... at least as long as it takes me to recolor everything I’ve already done. As you can see, I managed to tighten it back down to 110 colors (;;>.>), and about 90% are completely new color actions. I have the color actions I borrowed (thank you Aelia, CuriousB, Kiinu, Nyren, Poppet and Shastakiss!) are labeled in yellow on the AKSOR4 color chart, and as always will label those recolors with the original creator and palette in the file names, the AKSOR4 color actions (for your convenience I have included the ones I’m using) and color info documents.

If you would like the color actions (and info about them) yourself, you can download them here **UPDATED as of May 6, 2023**: http://simfil.es/3746165/

If you would like to see what they look like in game (and how they compare to my previous AKSOR3b recolors, you can download these object recolors:

Chesterstick Cherry Dresser in AKSOR4 vs AKSOR3b: http://simfil.es/3761083/

Exploding Dragon Dining Table (Flower) in AKSOR4: https://aliksims.tumblr.com/post/189155568063/

Exploding Dragon Dining Table (Flower) in AKSOR3b: http://simfil.es/3746180/

St. Ajoque Reproductions “See Plus” Mirror in AKSOR4 vs AKSOR3b: http://simfil.es/3746169/

Maxis Basic Carpet in AKSOR4 vs AKSOR3b: http://simfil.es/3746173/

Maxis Wall Paint in AKSOR4 vs AKSOR3b: http://simfil.es/3746181/

This is just a little reminder that these colors are intended to replace the AKSOR3b recolors that I have done. You CAN NOT have both versions in your game at once, except for the uploaded files above. So MAKE SURE to track down wherever you stored the old recolors when you decided to add in the new ones!

If you decide you like the old colors better, please make sure to download them before I replace their files with the updated colors! I’ll be starting with walls and floors, so if you want them I recommend you go download them soon! (If you want a file that is replaced, I have saved backup copies, so send me an ask and I can re-upload the old files and send you a link on an individual basis. (An easy way to find all my recolors is to check my Index Page of Indexes, by the way.)

This was posted on March 31, 2023. I promise not to replace anything until at least Monday, April 3, 2023. I will be updating the appropriate tumblr pages for each recolor as I updated files, so you will be able to check that way. I will try to periodically update you all via a State of the Blog address as to what has been updated.

This is going to take at least the rest of this year, especially since I’ll be slightly updating the bases for some of my old recolors and reorganizing how I sort floors and walls. And because I do keep trying to remember to pace myself. >.> HOWEVER! I am not taking any requests, and I am not doing any new recolors. You may get something for Christmas, but it will probably be a very small gift as I focus on updating everything.

I hope you all are having a lovely year so far! Don’t forget to go find some nature to enjoy when you can! I love you all! Take care of yourselves! <3

PS- Also, what a great way to celebrate 1000 posts! Couldn’t have planned it better if I’d tried! .*･ﾟ☆ \(*^▽^*)/ ☆ﾟ･* .