#plenty of spaghetti in this update!!

[bobthedragon]

Kingsgate update!

slightly delayed because my uploading device got covered in poison ivy and need benadryl to live and also is my dear friend Bat

new page: https://kingsgatecomic.com/?pg=7 chapter start: https://kingsgatecomic.com/

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

hi derin! i’ve been following you for a little while, and also bemoaning the nature of publishing fiction (indie or trad) for a little bit longer than that, and i only just realized today that…of course web serials are a thing i can also do!

i really love the idea of publishing serially (though i’m not totally sure i CAN, i’d like to try), so while i add this to my list of potential paths, do you have any advice for getting started? building an audience? marketing? figuring out if writing/publishing this way will work for you to begin with?

i know that’s a lot of questions, and you don’t have to answer all of them! i’m throwing spaghetti at a wall out here. i hope you have a good day though, and thanks in advance!

Getting started in web serial writing

Web serial writing has the lowest barrier of entry of any major method of publishing your story. You can literally just start. There are two steps:

start writing your story

decide how/where you want to publish it

The writing part, I assume you have handled. The important thing to note here is that you gotta see the project through. Start and don't stop until you're done. For publishing, you have a few options:

1. Publish on a website designed for web serial novels

There are a few of these around, they're usually free to publish on (although most offer a paid account to give you ad space or boost you int he algorithm or whatever), and your best choice generally depends on which one happens to gravitate to a niche that best suits your kind of work. The big names in this industry are Royal Road and Scribblehub, which, last I checked up on them (about a year ago) tended towards isekai and light erotica respectively. (You absolutely can publish outside these niches on these sites, it's just much harder to get traction.) Publishing somewhere like this comes with multiple advantages. Firstly, there's a writing community right there to talk to; there's usually a forum or something where people gather to talk about reading or writing on the site. Second, the site itself is designed specifically to publish web serials, and will come with a good layout and hit trackers and 'where you left off' buttons for the reader and all that; generally all you have to do is copy-paste the text of a chapter into the page and the site will do everything else for you. Third, there's an audience sitting right there, browsing the 'latest arrivals' or 'most popular' page of the site; if you can get high in the algorithm, you have to do little if any marketing.

The downsides of such places usually come down to the same things as the advantages. Such sites are a flooded market. Your story absolutely will drown in a sea of other stories, a great many of them terrible, and most of them with the advantage of catering to the site's niche. Gaining an audience there is often a matter of trying to game an algorithm, and the community can be... variable. Some of these places are nice but most of them are a bunch of authors trying to tear down everyone around them to make their own work look better by comparison int he hopes of poaching audiences for their story instead. If you go this route, I'd recommend shopping around for a site that fits you personality and writing style (or just posting on many sites at once; you can also do that).

These places also tend to get targeted by scrapers who will steal your story and sell it as an ebook, which is very annoying.

2. publish on another site

Plenty of people publish web serials here on Tumblr. I do not know why. This site is TERRIBLY set up for that. It makes tracking stories and updates a pain in the arse (people end up having to *manually tag every reader whenever they post an update*), building and maintaining archives are annoying, community building is surprisingly difficult for a social media site, and it's just generally far more work for both writer and reader than it needs to be. You often do have a ready-made audience, though.

This does tend to work better on other sites. Reddit has multiple communities for reading and writing various types of fiction; publishing on these is a bit more work than somewhere like Royal Road, but not very much, and many of these communities are very active. There aren't as many forums around as there used to be, but you might be able to find fiction hosting forums, if that's what you prefer. And of course, many writers who simply want to write and don't mind not being paid choose to write on AO3.

These sites are a good middle ground compromise for people who want a ready-made community and don't mind putting in a bit of extra work.

3. make your own site

This is what I did. You can make a website for free, giving people a hub to find you and all your work, designed however you like. You can also pay for a website if you want it to be a little bit nicer. This option is the most work, but gives you the most control and leaves you free of having to worry about any algorithm.

The obvious downside of this is that there's no community there. If you host your work on your own website, you need to bring people to it. You need to build an audience on your own. This is not an easy thing to do.

Building an audience (general advice)

Here is some general advice about building an audience:

1. Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

If you want people to read your writing, the best piece of advice I can possibly give you is have an update schedule and update on time, always. If you need to take a break, give people as much warning as possible and tell them exactly when you will be back, and come back then. Do not take unnecessary breaks because you don't feel like writing. (Do take breaks if you get carpal tunnel or need time off for a major life event or something -- your health is more important than the story.) If you're taking a lot of breaks to avoid burnout, you're doing it wrong -- you need to rework your whole schedule from the start and slow down updates to make these breaks unnecessary. Two chapters a month with no breaks is a billion times better than four chapters a month with frequent burnout breaks.

Consistency. Consistency. Consistency.

A reliable schedule is the #1 factor in audience retention. If readers need to randomly check in or wait for notifications from you to check if there's an update, guess what? Most of them won't! They'll read something else. You want your audience to be able to anticipate each release and fit it in their own schedule. I cannot overstate the importance of this.

2. If you can, try to make your story good.

We writers would love to live in a world where this is the most important thing, but it actually isn't. Plenty of people out there are perfectly happy to read hot garbage. How do I define 'hot garbage'? It doesn't matter. Think of what you would consider to be just a terrible, no-effort, pointless garbage story that the world would be better off without. Someone is out there writing that right now, making US$2,500/month on Patreon.

It is, however, a real advantage if you can make your story good. At the very least, it should be worth your audience's time. Preferably, it should also be worth their money, and make them enthusiastic enough to try to get their friends into it. Managing this is massively advantageous.

3. Accept that you're not going to get a big audience for a really long time. Write consistently and update on schedule every time anyway.

It took me over a year to get my second patron. For the first year, I updated Curse Words every single week, on schedule, for over a year, and had maybe... four readers. One of them was a regular commenter. One of them was my first patron. There was no one else.

My audience has grown pretty rapidly, for this industry.

You're not gonna start publishing chapters for a big, vibrant community. You're just not. And you have to keep going anyway. These days, I have a pretty good readership, and those couple of loyal readers (who I appreciate beyond words) have grown into a much larger community, who hang out and debate theories with each other and liveblog and drag in new readers and make fanart. My discord has over 550 members, with volunteer moderators and regular fan artists and its own little in-jokes and games and readers who make a point of welcoming newcomers and helping them navigate the discord, all with very little input from me. I start crying when I think about these people, who do the bulk of my social and marketing work for me just because they want to help, and my patrons who, after writing for over 4.5 years, have recently helped me pass an important threshold -- my web serial (via patreon) now pays my mortgage repayments. I can't live off my writing alone, but boy is that a massive fucking step.

You're not gonna have that when you start. You're gonna have a couple of friends. And that's it. Maybe for a year. Maybe less, if you're good at marketing and lucky. Maybe longer.

You have to update on schedule, every time, anyway.

Building an audience (more specific advice)

"Yeah, that's great, Derin, but where can I find my fucking audience?" Well, if you publish on a web serial site, then the audience is there and you jsut need to grab their affention using the tools and social norms offered to you by the site. I utterly failed at this and cannot help you there. You can still use these other tips to bring in readers from off-site.

1. Paid ads

I've never paid for ads so I can't offer advice on how to do it. I've Blazed a couple of posts on Tumblr; they weren't helpful. This is, however, an option for you.

2. Actually tell people that your story exists and where they can find it.

I used to have a lot of trouble with this. I didn't want to bother people on Tumblr and soforth by telling them about my personal project. Unfortunately you kind of have to just get over that. Now I figure that if people don't want TTOU spam, they can just unfollow me. If you're like me and want to just politely keep your story to yourself... don't. You're shooting yourself in the foot doing that.

You need to mention your story. Link your story in your bio on whatever social media sites you use. Put it in your banner on forums. Make posts and memes about it. Eventually, if you're lucky, extremely valuable readers will start to talk about your story and meme and fanart it for you, but first, you need to let them know it exists.

It will always feel weird to do this. Just accept that people can unfollow you if they want, and do it anyway.

3. Leverage existing audiences and communities

Before I started doing this web serial thing, I used to write a lot of fanfic. The original audience that trickled in for Curse Words comes from AO3, where I was doing a full series rationalist rewrite of Animorphs. They knew how I wrote and wanted more of it. Nowadays, I still occasionally pull in readers through this route. Most of my new readers these days come from a different community -- people who follow me on Tumblr. Occasionally I bring in people who don't follow me because we'll be talking about how one of my stories relates to something different, and fans of that thing might decide they want to check my stories out.

Your first readers will come from communities that you're already in and that are already interested in something similar to what you're doing (people reading my fanfic on AO3 were already there for my writing, for instance). Keep these people in mind when you start out.

One additional critical source of existing communities is your readers themselves. A huge number of my readers are people I've never been in any group with -- they were pulled in by their friends, relatives, or community members who were reading my stories and wanted them to read them too. This is an absolutely invaluable source of 'advertising' and it is critically important to look after these people. enthusiastic readers, word-of-mouth advertisers, and fan artists are the people who will bring in those outside your immediate bubble.

4. Your "where to find me" hub

If you're publishing on your own website, you can simply link everything else to your homepage, and put all relevant links there. For example, I can link people to derinstories.com , which links out to all my stories, social media I want people to find me on (you don't have to link all your social media), patreon, discord, et cetera. If you don't have your own website, you're going to have to create a hub like this in the bios of every site where you garner audiences from. This is the main advantage of publishing on your own website.

Monetisation

There are a few different kinds of monetisation for web serials, but most of them boil down to 'use a web serial format to market your ebook', which to be honest I find pretty shady. These authors will start a web serial, put in enough to hook an audience for free, and then stop posting and release an ebook, with the intention of making readers pay for the ending. Now, to be clear, I am absolutely not against publishing and selling your web serial -- I'm doing exactly that, with Curse Words. I am against intentionally and knowingly setting up the start of a web serial as a 'demo' without telling your audience that that is what you are doing, soliciting Patreon money for it, and then later yanking it away unfinished and demanding money for the ending.

Monetisation of these sorts of stories is really just monetisation for normal indie publishing with the web serial acting as an ad, and I have no advice for how to do that successfully.

Your options of monetisation for a web serial as a web serial are a bit more limited. They essentially come down to merchandise (including ebooks or print books) or ongoing support (patreon, ko-fi, etc.) Of these, the only one I have experience with is the patreon model.

This model of monetisation involves setting up an account with a regular-donation site such as patreon, providing the base story for free, and providing bonuses to patrons. You can offer all kinds of bonuses for patrons. Many patrons don't actually care what the bonus is, they're donating to support you so that you can keep writing the story, but they still like to receive something. But some patrons do donate specifically for the bonuses, so it's worth choosing them with care.

The most common and most effective bonus for web serials is advance chapters -- if people are giving you money, give them the chapters early. You can also offer various bonus materials, merchandise, or voting rights on decisions you need to make in the future. 'Get your character put in the story' is a popular high-tier reward. If you're looking for reward ideas, you can see the ones I use on my patreon.

Patreon used to offer the ability to set donation goals, where you could offer something when you were making a certain amount total or had a certain number of subscribers. They recently removed this feature because Patreon hates me personally and doesn't want me to be happy, so you kind of have to advertise it yourself now if you want to use these goals. I release chapters of unrelated stories at donation goals, and I found this to be far more effective than I thought it would be.

The important factor for this kind of monetisation is that it's ongoing. The main advantage of this is that it makes your income far more regular and predictable than normal indie publishing -- your pledges will go up or down over a month, but not by nearly as much as book sales can. The main thing to keep in mind is that it's not a one-time sale, which means that however you organise things, you want to make sure that donating keeps on being worth it, month after month. Offering bonuses that aren't just one-time bonuses, but things that the patron can experience every month, helps here. So does making sure that you have a good community where patrons can hang out with other patrons. (Offering advance chapters does both of these things -- the patron can stay ahead in the story and discuss stuff with other patrons that non-patrons haven't seen. I've found that a lot of my patrons enjoy reading an emotionally devastating chapter ahead of time, discussing it, and then all gathering a week or two later to watch the unsuspecting non-patrons experience it for the first time.)

Whatever method you use for monetisation, rule #1 is (in the words of Moist Von Lipwig): always make it easy for people to give you money. The process of finding out how to give you money should be easy, as should the process of actually doing it. And, most importantly, the spender should feel like it's worth it to give you money. This is a big part of making it easy to give you money. Make your story worth it, make your bonuses worth it, make sure that they're happy to be part of your community and that they enjoy reading and supporting you. And remember that support comes in many forms -- the fan artist, the word-of-mouth enthuser, the person who makes your social hub a great place to be, the patron, all of these people are vital components in the life support system that keeps your story going. And you're going to have to find them, give them a story, and build them a community, word by word and brick by brick.

It's a long process.

Good luck.

.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

This is the anon of the UT! papyrus/reader fanfics that are the ebodiment of that one lalalala sound that shows up when u see baby bill on tiktok

Basically its just

Silly

I want a silly fanfic with cute stuff

Just wanted to clarify so its easier

Okay thanks byebye💃

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Heart of Gold by SapphireWolf1122 (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

You are a journalist who is curious about the monsters who have been roaming around. After some pushing, you get assigned to write about some monsters that have been going missing. You soon find yourself making friends with them but an old friend has come back into your life and she is determined to take revenge one specific monster for a crime that should have been impossible for them to commit. As more monsters start to go missing and you do what you can to help your new friends, suspicions start to rise and loyalties tested. But as investigations and shocking discoveries are made, you can't help being drawn to one particular cinnamon roll skeleton...

The Scarf That Smelled of Spaghetti by Tan (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

As an art student with a passion for anatomy you one day find yourself stalking a skeleton. Regardless of the excuses you tell yourself you wonder if this deep interest in the skeleton man goes beyond just art. Before you have a chance to question these feelings his brother begins to plague your nightmares confusing you even more. -- Takes place an ambiguous amount of years after the barrier is broken. Characters have matured in their own way over time from being exposed to the human world. Plenty of Undertale character cameos mixed in. Story reads similar to a rom-com manga/anime where the main story arc is the reader's relationship with the skeleton brothers and other sub-plots mixed in. Primarily a PapyrusxReader story with SansxReader moments. Each chapter is about 3k words, give or take.

They Help You Put A Little More Backbone Into Life by liltreede (General Audiences, Incomplete)

Do they really have to play Christmas music already? Is it REALLY NECESSARY? No! No it isn't! They need to stahp. Fluff fic because Pap doesn't seem to get enough love in my humble opinion and Christmas music already playing on the radio made me both bitter and inspired. Previously Titled: It's Not Even F*king Turkey Day Yet! Changed title because I decided to make it a multi chapter story instead of a series of one shots. Surprise! This actually turned into a semi serious story with like actual plot and stuff. ;)

In love with the color green by Yours_truly_Oll (General Audiences, Incomplete)

You always liked hiking. People? Not so much… So when the opportunity to move away presented itself you gladly took it. What opportunity you may ask? A new place close to the mountains and numerous hiking trails and with a cheap rent to boot! Why was the rent so cheap? The answer is simple: this town was right next to the infamous mt. Ebott and right now was mostly populated by monsters who came to the surface a year ago. A year had passed but most people still couldn't accept that fact, hence the price of the house you bought. You needed a big move on and that was just that. You hoped you would get along with your new neighbors…

Slumber Hearty by ToiletPaperPrincess (Teen And Up, Complete)

You've been having problems with nightmares lately, but if there's one thing Papyrus loves, it's solving problems. (Can be read as platonic or romantic, with a specifically romantic alternate ending. UPDATE: Now with epilogue!)

Here's a few more fics that are similar to what you're asking for!

[aidansplaguewind]

Riding Out the Storm

So, I previously posted this on AO3 but I went through it and fixed it up quite a bit. Made it more descriptive and what not. Trust me when I say I improved it BIG TIME. I haven't updated it on AO3 yet though. Figured I'd post it in case anyone wanted to check it out. (Sansa is 18 in this one in case anyone has an underage issue.)

I dunno man, I think I made it pretty hot and I usually don't feel that way about my own smut. You tell me.

RATED - E (as in Explicit, not for Everyone)

WORD COUNT - 6385

Sansa has gone to stay with her Aunt Lysa and Uncle Petyr over summer vacation at their beach house. But, instead of fun in the sun, a hurricane hits. Lysa decided to ride out the storm by popping pills and sleeping through it, leaving Petyr and Sansa alone to ride it out their own way. (I literally wrote this during a hurricane.)

"This is so boring, I can't stand it. I’m literally about to lose my mind.”

Petyr looked at his eighteen-year-old niece over the top of his book. She was sitting in the arm chair across from his, squirming in her seat, and checking her phone every five minutes. “If you keep using that phone without charging it you’re gonna get a hell of a lot more bored once the power goes out. Read a book, I have plenty.”

“Who reads anymore?”

“Beg my pardon, you're right, I imagine your generation wouldn't bother to even learn to read if not for texting.” She snarled her nose at him but he didn't mind. Didn't care at all if he offended her delicate sensibilities. “I don't care what you do, just stop complaining.”

Outside the wind was picking up, the rain coming down harder, and they could see it all through the clear plastic shutters that were covering all of the windows. There was a pretty massive hurricane sitting in the Atlantic, on the way straight toward them, the current conditions being brought in from the outer bands. Petyr imagined his wife's niece, Sansa, had never dreamed coming to stay with her aunt for a few weeks would result in their current situation. No, she likely had fantasies of fun in the sun, beach days, and relaxing in the hammock. Her boyfriend had even planned to come visit her for a few days but that wasn't going to happen, at least not until after the storm had passed. All flights in and out had been canceled.

He said nothing as she got up and plugged her phone into the charger, his eyes following her across the room. She was wearing white cotton shorts that barely covered her bottom and a blue spaghetti strap top and he wondered why she wore clothing like that in front of him if she didn't want him looking. And she didn't want him looking, or at least that's what she had told him. What was it that she had said? Pervert. Yeah, that's what she had called him when she noticed him glance at her ass. He hadn't meant for his eyes to linger but her skirt had been so short and she had bent over right in front of him, her ass almost in full view. He was only a man, how could he not look?

“When are Robin and Lysa getting up?” she asked, plopping back down onto the chair.

“No time soon, I imagine. She wants to sleep through it and I don't intend to stop her.” Lysa had taken enough Xanax to sleep through their house blowing away, and Robin, the spoiled mommy’s boy that he was, would stay in bed with her.

“What do you wanna do?”

“I want to keep reading my book.”

“Ugh...come on. Amuse me.”

What a little cunt. As if it were his responsibility to keep her occupied. “What would you have me do, Miss Stark?”

She shrugged, tucking a stray strand of perfect, red hair behind her ear. “I dunno. You wanna play a game or something?”

Petyr sighed, closed his book and placed it on the coffee table in front of them, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be getting any reading done if Sansa Stark had anything to say about it. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Fine. What sort of game did you have in mind?”

“Um...naked twister?” she laughed, obviously finding herself hilarious. She'd caught him looking at her ass once and now she figured he wanted her and meant to taunt him for it.

It was true, he did want her, but he would not be bested by an eighteen-year-old girl. “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't have the game,” he answered, unfazed.

She shook her head, a sardonic smile on her lips. “I was kidding.”

“I'm well aware.”

“Ooook." Her eyes widened as though he were being ridiculous. "So what do you wanna play?”

“You tell me, it was your idea, Sweetling.”

“How about Truth or Dare?”

Truth or Dare. There was a game he hadn't played in years. In truth the only games he played any more were those of the mind. Fuck it. Why not? What could she possibly ask him that would be too revealing? Even so, he was a very good liar. “Fine.”

“Okay.” She got up from the chair and moved to sit on the sofa. “Come sit by me.”

He looked at her, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“I wanna be able to see your eyes, so I can tell if you're lying or not.”

Petyr fought against laughter that threatened to erupt. Little fool, I'm a master fucking manipulator. But she didn't need to know that, so he moved from his own chair and sat down beside her on the sofa. She pulled her legs up so that her knees were bent and she was facing him. “Is that better?” he asked.

“Sure. Now who should go first?”

He gave a small shrug. “I'll be the guinea pig I suppose, why not?”

“Okay, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Wimp.”

“Why?”

“Truth is the safe way to go.”

“Is it?” He stared into her blue eyes, challenging her to disagree. For he knew that truths could be incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.

She looked away quickly. “Fine...lemme think.” She fiddled with her necklace for a moment, running the little golden heart back and forth across the chain, before an idea dawned on her and her attention snapped back to his face. “I heard you got into a bad fight with my uncle over my mother when you guys were around my age and he totally kicked your ass. Is it true?”

“It's true,” Petyr admitted but ‘kicked his ass’ wasn't the phrase he'd use to describe it. “He nearly killed me.” She hadn't asked that but he offered the knowledge anyway. Let her hear how brutal her own family can be, let her empathize with me. Whatever it took to get her where he wanted her.

“Yeah...I heard you have a huge scar across your chest. Is that true?”

Petyr grinned and shook his head. “It's your turn now, not mine. Truth or Dare?”

"You suck," she pouted and Petyr couldn't stop his gaze from traveling from her eyes down to her luscious bottom lip. Reflexively he ran his tongue across his own bottom lip and then bit down on it. He was well aware that women found him adorable when he bit his bottom lip. When his eyes returned to hers they were wide and a rosy pink had colored her cheeks and he flashed her a devilish grin. He would use everything in his arsenal, every trick in the book.

She swallowed and looked down at her hands. “Um...truth, I guess.”

“Is it true that you're only dating Joffrey Baratheon because his family is famous and he's the most desired boy in the world?” Petyr asked.

Her chin dropped and her mouth hung open in feigned shock. “No. No, never. Joffrey’s... he's…”

“He's what?” Everyone knew the kid was a prick and he watched her stumble to find something nice to say about him. She couldn't. Sansa was the girl who wanted to date the cutest and most popular boy in school, even if that boy was an asshole. She would imagine he'd fall hopelessly in love with her and change his ways just for her. She was young, naive, and selfish. Unrealistically idealistic. He knew exactly who she was because he had once been the same person, mistaking infatuation for love. “You're a bad liar, Sansa.”

She was about to object when all of the lights went out and they were left in complete darkness. They had been so busy with their little game that neither of them had noticed that the winds outside were howling, the rain beating against the windows. If Petyr had bothered to keep a television on he would have known where the storm was but had decided early on that he wasn't going to get wrapped up into the hysteria. It was coming and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Do you think the lights will come back on?” Sansa asked. As if in answer to her question, a gust of wind slammed against the front door and the pressure of it could be felt physically.

“I don't think so. Stay here, I'll go get some candles.”

Petyr left her alone on the sofa, using the light from his cellphone to guide him to the kitchen. He grabbed a few candles from the cabinet above the stove, a flashlight, and a bottle of wine. Fuck it. There was nothing else to do. He found the corkscrew in a drawer and returned to the living room to sit the candles on the coffee table. In this case it was a lucky thing he smoked because it meant he always had a lighter in his pocket. Once they were lit a soft glow enveloped him and Sansa, and he noticed an uneasiness in her eyes as he sat back down beside her.

“Are you ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. The wind...it's so loud. The whistling is kinda creepy.”

How cute, she was frightened of the storm. “I don't mind it but I grew up in a rainy, windy area. I actually find it rather comforting.”

“Really?”

“Mmm.” He popped the cork on the bottle of wine and drank straight from the bottle, passing it to Sansa after.

She reached for it but hesitated. “But...I’m not old enough.”

“Close enough. Don't pretend you’ve never drank before, I'm not stupid and I may look old but I used to be a teenager too. Besides, it might help you relax.” She smiled, a sweet, innocent smile and Petyr felt the corner of his mouth twitch to match. Her fingers brushed his as she took the bottle and that small touch made his skin tingle and burn.

“So...do you wanna finish playing the game?” she asked after a hearty swig.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, it was your turn. Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.” He was suddenly feeling a bit adventurous. What could she possibly dare him to do in their current circumstances anyway?

“I dare you to take off your shirt...and undershirt! If you're wearing one.”

Petyr wasn't sure what to say for a moment. It definitely wasn't the dare he saw coming. “Why?”

“Does it matter why? I dared you to.”

He grabbed the wine bottle from her and took a long draught before sitting it on the table. He wasn't particularly shy, no it wasn't that, he just didn't really want to show her the long scar that ran the length of his torso, from his collar bone to his navel, and he was almost certain that's why she wanted him bare.

“Just remember,” he said as he began to unbutton the top buttons of his shirt. “Paybacks are a bitch.” She raised her eyebrows at him challengingly. Little girl, don't get in over your head. Surely she didn't understand the dangers and implications of undressing a fully grown man. If she did she may have rethought her dare. Too late now, little one. He finished with the buttons of his shirt and shrugged it off, then pulled the white t-shirt he wore under it over his head and watched as her eyes widened in shock.

“Oh my God...I had- I didn't know-”

“It's fine!" He cut her off. Her words sounded a lot like pity and he hadn't the stomach for pity. "It's been healed for many, many years.”

She reached towards him and instinctively he grabbed her wrist before her fingers made contact with the raised pink flesh, causing her to flinch. He hadn't meant to grab her too roughly or hurt her, it was just a reflex. Nevertheless, he held onto her. In truth he very much liked the idea of her tiny fingers roaming his bare chest. “I believe it's your turn.”

Her blue eyes locked onto his in surprise. Has she already forgotten we were playing a game?

“Um...yeah. I pick truth.”

Petyr released his grip on her wrist and she pulled her arm back against her chest. For a moment he just looked at her, noting that all her usual cockiness had seemed to fade after realizing that he could hurt her if he wished to. Sansa was a tall girl, exactly the same height as Petyr, and she sauntered around in front him as though she was untouchable and unattainable, but now she surely realized that though he was not a big man in stature, he was still a man, and he was lean and strong and he could pin her down if he so desired. But Petyr wasn't interested in taking her by force for it would be much more satisfying to make her desire him. To want him. Before the night was over, she would be begging for his cock.

What truth could he ask her to break her down? To put her in her place? A sinful grin spread across his face. Sex. She clearly loved the attention her beautiful, young body got her but if he knew anything about teenagers, it was that they hated being reminded of their sexual inexperience and inferiority. They had the bodies of adults but were still children and tended to get quite defensive when one reminded them of that. “Alright, I have a question for you. Are you still a virgin?”

In the dim light of the candles he could just barely make out the blush spreading across her cheeks. “No! No way, I have a boyfriend.”

Petyr couldn't contain a soft chuckle. “You're lying.”

“No. I'm not. I've done it tons of times.”

“Oh? What's your favorite position?”

She shook her head. “It's not my turn anymore.”

“I wasn't asking a Truth, I was just asking. Do you like it rough or soft and slow?"

Her cheeks flushed crimson, matching her hair. “It's your turn,” she insisted, still avoiding the question.

It didn't matter. He could always tell when people were lying, he had learned to note the signs. Or tells. Lack of eye contact, fidgeting, a twitch of their lips. She was exhibiting all of these. “Fine. Truth.”

Sansa took a deep breath and bit her bottom lip. “Do you...did you...um…”

“Come on, out with it.”

“Do you like looking at me?” she asked, avoiding his gaze. “I've seen you look at me.”

And just like that, a jolt of arousal burned through his stomach and down through his groin. “I recall. And you called me a pervert.”

“I didn't mean it,” she said softly, shaking her head. “Not really. It's just what everyone else says when an old- I mean...older guy looks at a teenage girl.”

“You meant old.”

“No! I didn't... I mean that's what other people say but I don't think you're old.” This was certainly a turn of events. For once, not at all what he was expecting. “If I told my friends they would think it was creepy and gross because you're so much older and you're my uncle but...I kind of like it when you look at me.”

Another jolt of arousal, this time shooting straight to his cock. Such a sweet, delicious little confession. “I'm not your uncle through blood,” he quickly reminded her. She finally looked into his eyes and hers looked so innocent and vulnerable that he physically ached.

“So...you still haven't answered. Do you like to? Ya know...look at me?”

If he said no he would be lying and he couldn't bring himself to lie to her, not about this, not with the fear of rejection written all over her face. Not when the truth could possibly allow him a taste of her supple, young fruit. He softened his tone and spoke barely above a whisper, “Yes, sweetheart, I do. Very much.”

A sweet smile played on her lips, followed by another blush. “It's my turn now.” She was embarrassed and trying to move away from the topic now but Petyr's curiosity was piqued and he was getting her exactly where he wanted her. If she liked him looking at her, what else might she like?

“Truth or Dare?” he asked, his heart racing in anticipation.

“Truth.”

“Do you ever look at me?”

“I'm looking at you right now.”

“You know what I mean, Sweetling.” He was taking a gamble, he knew, just because she enjoyed the attention of him lusting after her did not mean the feeling was mutual but there was only one way to find out. “Do you find me attractive, Sansa?” He was a good looking man, he knew, slender and lean with dark hair greying at his temples, but teenagers were usually attracted to other teenagers.

“Yeah...I guess I do," she admitted, her eyes cast downward, no doubt afraid to look into his.

Her confession sent another jolt through Petyr and his cock was beginning to throb. Every sane part of him screamed to end their little game immediately before he completely sexually frustrated himself but the part of him that didn't care said keep going. “Truth,” he answered before she even had time to ask the question.

She lifted her head, finding the courage to make eye contact. “Have you ever thought about...like...doing things to me?”

Was he imagining it or had she scooted closer to him? There was hardly room to breathe between them, with her knees still bent, her shins just barely grazed his thigh. “Yes.”

“What kinds of things?”

His heart was hammering against his ribs now, his every nerve tingling in anticipation. He wanted to jump on her like a fucking wild animal in heat and just take her but that wouldn't do. He had to tread carefully. Slowly he inhaled a breadth of air, calming himself, and slowly exhaled. “Things you’re too young to hear about.”

“I'm not too young. I think about things too.”

“Oh?" So much for calm. "What kinds of things?” Had she too imagined her legs over his shoulders as he pumped into her? Had she slid her digits through her silken, wet slit and imagined it was his tongue instead?

“You were supposed to answer first, it's your turn.”

Petyr turned his body more, to face hers, and whilst doing so took the opportunity to place his hand on her bare leg. She wiggled a bit but didn't shake him off. Her skin was so very soft and supple and he couldn't stop himself from gently rubbing his fingers over her. “Do you want to know if I've thought about kissing you?” he asked.

Her eyes had snapped to where his hand now rested on her bare skin, fixated. It looked as though she struggled to lift them to meet his own. “Yes... and anything else.”

“You wanna know if I've imagined fucking you?” She nodded, biting that kissable bottom lip of hers. “Yes...and yes.” His hand seemed to have a mind of its own, moving around her leg and up to the inside of her thigh. Her skin was even softer there. His cock, now hard and throbbing, was straining against his pants. “What have you imagined, sweetheart?”

“I- I um…” Her face was flushed and her voice sounded strained as he continued running his fingers along the inside of her thigh.

“Don't be shy.”

“I...imagined kissing you.”

“What else?” His fingers now toyed with the edge of her shorts and he was hyper-aware of every change in her demeanor. Her breathing, while barely audible, was more shallow and quick and her perky tits were rising and falling in rapid succession. The conversation, the sound of his voice mixed with his touch, was turning her on and he was inwardly delighted at this victory.

“I've imagined you touching me.”

“Where, Sweetling?” he asked, his voice a seductive whisper.

“Um…” Her eyelids fluttered and her voice came out as a soft sigh. The evidence of her arousal made his cock ache with longing.

“Truth or Dare, Sansa?”

“Dare,” she whispered and Petyr almost burst with excitement.

“I dare you to let me kiss you.”

Her eyes met his, looking both uncertain and curious. “What about Aunt Lysa?”

“She's taken enough Xanax to knock out a bull. She's not going to wake up.”

“No, I mean...don't you love her?”

He brought his hands to her face then, gently cupping and caressing the line of her jaw. “Not the way I love you.” In truth he didn't love Lysa at all. Did he love Sansa? Perhaps, but more than anything he wanted to taste her and bury himself inside her and he would say whatever he needed to achieve that. “May I kiss you?”

She barely had time to utter consent before Petyr leaned forward and captured her mouth with his own and her immediate sigh was music to his ears. He forced himself to move slowly, even though his body was alight with need, longing to take her fast and hard. Longing for relief. Her lips moved against his innocently,  clumsy and inexperienced as they were, but he didn't care. He would teach her, he would mold her to fit him. Carefully, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, willing her to open for him. When her lips parted he took his chance and slipped his tongue between them, softly stroking her own.

She was all softness and warmth and tasted of the wine they had just shared. She was delicious and he couldn't contain the moan that escaped him. His fingers traced down the line of her neck and she whimpered into his mouth and her own hands found their way to his bare chest. Petyr was losing all sense of reason as he devoured her, his heart pounded wildly against his chest, and his cock had become an insistent, aching reminder of how badly he wanted her. When her thumb brushed across his nipple he hissed in a breath and broke their kiss, pulling just far away enough to search the deep blue pools of her eyes.

“Uncle Petyr…”

“Yes?”

“I dare you to touch me.”

Oh fuck. “I didn't choose dare, Sweetling.” He was teasing her, of course, he would gladly touch her.

Her hands went to his hips, urging him closer. “Uncle Petyr, please.”

Please was all it took for him to slip his hands under the hem of her shirt. He reclaimed her lips as his deft fingers found the clasp of her bra and had it loose in seconds. She moaned into his mouth when his hands cupped her breasts, a soft cry of ecstasy, and it took every ounce of Petyr's self control to go slowly. All of her little moans and sighs were going straight to his cock. When he found her nipples and began gently tweaking them between his fingers, she arched into him reflexively, her thighs spreading. He took the opportunity to get between them and push her back onto the sofa, pressing himself against her. He could feel the warmth radiating from her core, even through their layers of clothing, and was unable to stop himself from grinding his erection against her, relishing in the friction.

Sansa broke their kiss and looked at him and Petyr felt stunned, as if being awakened from a trance. Her eyes were glazed and the blue even darker than before, although behind them was a tinge of worry. “What's wrong, Sweetling?”

“I lied earlier.” Her voice was a whisper. “About having done it before. I've never….never really done anything.”

He had known. Of course he had known but a part of him was hoping she would try to maintain the lie until the very end, until he was already buried deep inside her and felt how tight she was. What sort of monster would he be now, with it out in the open, to take this little girl's virginity on the sofa as his wife slept upstairs? “I know and we don't have to do anything, we can stop right now,” but even as he said it, he rocked his hips into her and began tracing her jaw with soft kisses, down until he reached that sweet spot just below. A sharp intake of breath from her and a thrust back against him was enough to spur him on.

A monster indeed.

One of his hands left her breasts and snaked down between them where he slowly eased his fingers under the waistband of her shorts and panties. “Mmhmm,” he moaned into her neck as he found her slit already slick with need. “So wet.” When he slipped a finger through her folds she whimpered and her hands went to his chest, her fingers gripped his chest hair tightly and the pull stung but he didn't mind.

He moved his finger up and down her folds slowly, torturously, making sure to circle her little nub rhythmically. Even without direct pressure she was already moaning and wiggling beneath him, her breaths quick and shallow. Fuck, she's so wet. He wanted nothing more than to yank her bottoms off and sink into her balls deep, to take her fast and rough. But waiting was a sweet kind of torture.

“Do you want me to stop, Sansa?” He would, if she insisted, but he was going to persuade her. He was very good at persuasion.

“No. No please, don't.” Her reply was strained, he couldn't believe how responsive she was to the slightest touch from him.

“Does your boyfriend make you feel like this?” he asked, as he began to fully rub her clit, applying real pressure.

She bucked her hips against his hand as a breathy “No” escaped her lips.

He continued to play with her breasts with one hand as his other worked her below and when he finally slipped his finger into her entrance he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her cry. She was so tight, more than one finger was going to hurt her a little but he was going to try to make it as painless as possible. Perhaps he wasn't a complete monster.

He fucked her with the one finger, making sure the bottom of his palm continuously rubbed on her nub, and she came undone beneath him. Writhing and bucking, one of her hands clawed at his bare side the other tangled in his hair. Petyr was enjoying every minute of it, even though he was sure his cock was about to burst out of his pants. He could almost cum from just watching her lose control.

“Mm...p-p..” she was trying to say something against his mouth. He eased up a bit to allow it. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please...fas-faster.”

He grinned against her lips as he shifted his hand to slide another finger inside. He went slowly at first, stretching her open, getting her used to the feel of something bigger, and she winced but didn't tell him to stop. After a few moments she began moaning again, soft whimpers of pleasure, so he picked up the pace.

“Do you like that?” he whispered into her ear.

“Mmhmm.”

“Do you like the way your Uncle Petyr fucks you?” She bucked wildly against him and he felt her walls beginning to contract. She was close. “Cum for me, Sweetling. Cum for Uncle Petyr.” As if his words alone willed it, and maybe they did, she moaned loudly. Her back arched and her inner walls gripped his fingers, pulling them even deeper as she came around them. Petyr gently nipped at her neck and massaged her breasts as she peaked and then began to come down from her high, praying she wouldn't change her mind now that her initial need was sated.

He decided he wouldn't give her time to. He pushed her shirt and bra up to reveal her naked breasts, beautiful pale mounds ripe for a feast and he dipped his head, taking each nipple into his mouth in turn. Her skin tasted like heaven, sweet and musty and entirely her own; he could have stayed between them forever but he had a more pressing matter at hand. She was already responding again, soft little mews and pants that were driving him mad with lust. He pulled up from her and hooked his fingers under the waistband of her bottoms, stilling for a moment to see if she would object. She didn't. She looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes, waiting, and closed her knees to make it easier for him to get them down.

Without hesitation he pulled them down, tossing them carelessly across the room. Just as quickly he kicked off his shoes and pulled his own pants and boxers off, his cock springing forth, finally free of its constraints. He got back onto the sofa on his knees, placing a hand on each of her own and spreading them back open.

“Jesus…” Her little cunt was so perfect and glistening in the light of the candles from her juices. Just a taste. Petyr watched her face, her cheeks were burning with embarrassment and her eyes darted away from his own. Clearly no one had ever looked at her this way before but she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was perfect. He quickly dipped his head and ran his tongue up the length of her slit, resulting in a surprise gasp from her. He had never tasted anything so delicious in his life. He wanted to devour her for hours, make her exhausted with pleasure until her legs shook and she had to fight for air but he also desperately wanted to be inside her. He settled for a few laps with his tongue and a suckle at her clit before getting up and leaning over her, his cock nestling itself between her folds. Her wet heat caused him to buck against her.

“Ooh,” she whimpered.

“Are you okay?” he asked, bringing his face to her own.

She nodded. “It looks big.”

It? His cock. He hadn't even noticed her looking at it but surely she had, it was likely the only one she had ever seen in person. “Thank you for stroking my ego, Sweetling.”

“Can I...can I get a better look at it? Can I touch it?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

He lifted his body off her so she could look down between them where his member lay snug against her sex. He was rigidly hard and his head an angry red. Would she find it ugly? He watched as her tiny hand reached down and she ran her fingers along his length. “Mmm,” he moaned at the contact.

“Does it feel good?”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I might now,” she replied with a sweet smile. “It's so soft but...so hard.”

"Do you like my cock, baby?" he asked, biting that bottom lip of his again in that adorable way that he did.

She blushed an even deeper shade of crimson and smiled. "Yes."

He hummed proudly. "Hmmm, good girl." Very slowly he began rocking his hips, allowing himself to slide through her slit, and she watched with apt fascination until her head fell back and she whimpered from the friction. Petyr himself felt every nerve alighting in his body and he wasn't even inside her yet. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She could only nod, her breathing heavy and loud, lost to the sensation of his manhood stroking her most sensitive spot.

Petyr inwardly rejoiced as he pressed his chest down against hers and kissed her heartily and hungrily. She met his kiss with equal fervor as he took his cock in hand and aligned himself with her entrance. He gave a slight push and he felt her entire body tense beneath him. “Try to relax, Sweetling. It will hurt less if you do.” He truly had no desire to hurt her and didn't understand how any man could enjoy such a thing. It was far more pleasurable to give pleasure.

She nodded but as he began pushing further in, stretching her all the way out, tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. She was so tight, her body instinctively pushed back against the foreign intrusion, and Petyr had to give a few deep, hard thrusts to fully stretch her open for him, until he was all the way inside.

His hips stilled for a moment. "Oooh, holy fuck!" He groaned at the sensation of finally being fully sheathed, his cock twitched within her and he knew if he wasn't careful he would cum far more quickly than he wanted to. Fuck she's so fucking tight, fuck! He wouldn't normally have to worry about that sort of thing but she was so fucking tight and the anticipation had been building inside him for far longer than that night.

She was shaking, crying, and he cupped her face gently kissing away the tears. “Relax, the hard part is over now.”

He captured her lips with his own as he began to slowly pull out and push back in, a gentle, rhythmic rocking of his hips. As he did so, he placed one hand on her breast and the other he placed over where their bodies joined and began working at that tender, little nub. His body wanted so much more, his breathing laboured, fighting the natural urge to start pounding into her.

“Fuck...you feel so good, sweetheart.” She whimpered at his words. “So wet...so tight around my cock.”

“Oooh.” Her cheeks were flushed with arousal, her eyes heavy. His words were fueling her desire. The sound of his voice relaxing her muscles and opening her up beneath him.

"That's it, sweetheart, open up." He could feel her walls relaxing around him as he pushed in and out of her, could feel her getting wetter as he worked her clit. “Do you like the way my cock feels, Sweetling?”

“Oh my God," she panted. So responsive to the sound of his voice. "F-fuck...yes.”

He moved his hand from her breast and used it to prop himself up, allowing a new angle, allowing him to go deeper. “Does my voice turn you on?”

“Yes...don't stop.” Her breaths were becoming quicker, her head rolled back against the arm of the sofa, her own hands replaced his and kneaded at her breasts.

Petyr began to pick up the pace with each thrust. “Does my little girl like the way I fuck her?” She grinded against him at his words. “Ooh fuck...that's it. Such a good girl.”

Sweat broke out on his brow as he pumped into her. The sounds of their joining was intoxicating, the gush of her juices every time he thrust back in, the sound of his balls slapping against her ass. He wanted to keep talking to her but he was losing it. “Mmm...fuuuuck...so good.”

Finally she said it. “Faster.”

He wasted no time, his hips responding to her demand immediately and she began bucking up into him, meeting his thrusts. He wanted her to cum again so desperately but he wasn't going to last much longer at the new frantic pace. His body collapsed on top of her and he hooked his arms underneath hers as he continuously moved his hips, deep and hard. “Your pussy feels so good,” he purred, his lips now at her ear. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

“Oh...oooh, Petyr don't stop.” Her hands went to his head, pulling and yanking his hair but he didn't mind.

“Mmm...oh fuuuck baby I’m gonna cum.”

And he did, he couldn't stop it. Every nerve in his body lit up, his veins sung with pleasure, as he went over the edge, lighting up every limb down to his toes. His vision went white. He tried to pull out, he really did, but as soon as he came, she came too, and her walls gripped him, pulling him back in and milking him for every drop.

“Oooh...oh fuuuuck,” he cried as his cock twitched and jerked inside her.

For a few moments they laid there, their breaths evening out, minds clearing. When Petyr could think clearly again the dread of what had just happened ebbed its way into his mind. “Sansa...I'm so sorry,” he said, his voice muffled against her skin where his head was nestled in the crook of her neck.

“Sorry for what?”

“I meant to pull out.”

“No, Petyr...it's okay. My mom put me on the pill cuz I have really bad periods. It helps.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I promise. There's nothing to worry about.”

Relief spread through his body and he smiled into her neck. Finally he pusehd himself up to where he could look at her and she blushed from the eye contact, biting her bottom lip. “You're beautiful.”

“No I'm not.”

“Stop. You know you are.” She shook her head, looking a bit sad and Petyr was taken aback. For someone who always acted so confident she surely didn't seem so now. “By the time I'm done with you you're going to believe me.”

“You're not done with me?”

“Only if you want me to be.” She smiled and shook her head again, all innocence and vulnerability.

“Well,” he said, moving a strand of hair away from her face and tucking it gingerly behind her ear. “This isn't at all how I expected this evening to go.”

“Me neither.”

For the first time in a while Petyr noticed the wind howling outside. “I completely forgot there was a hurricane going on outside.”

“What hurricane?”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to her lips. Neither of them had moved yet and she didn't seem to mind.

“I think this is definitely the way to ride out a storm,” she giggled against his lips.

“Ride? I can show you how to ride out the storm.”

She laughed and ruffled his hair with her fingers and he was lost.

[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.”

[ipcearn]

@artemis-the-changeling has gotten me into Satisfactory and I have been delightfully consumed

It does remind me of Subnautica in a great way, though without the obvious goal of getting off planet... and without the terror of being in the ocean

But they share the handcrafted map and the resource gathering, as well as the capitalist company that lays claim to all you are and do (I don't think I ever gushed about how much I adore Subnautica, it was the first game I ever experienced in VR as well - and damn it is so much more terrifying in VR, I was only in creative but obviously we had to sent me into the void just for the hell of it, and I about died of fright, much to my cousins amusement who owns the VR set up and was watching me the whole time... And then to calm me down after he had me play some Beatsaber)

Now, I am the first person to admit that the kind of math skills needed to set up the really efficient factories on my own are beyond me (though there are thankfully plenty of sites made to help you and that do that kind of math for you, and plenty of YouTubers that have made great videos explaining factory designs)

I am also not the person who is really skilled at the architecture designs, I am plenty skilled at other arts but architecture has just never been my forte (we had a semester of architecture in our art course during Year 11 and 12, and architecture was by far my worst semester that course... granted the model I built was ugly as sin)

But regardless, I am having so much fun in this game building my spaghetti factories, and I am so very much looking forward to the 1.0 update (watch the trailer even if you have no interest in this game, it is simply hilarious)

[player-1]

Now I know that I'm invading my dash with Trigun stuff, but to all the TriStamp fans who need an extra dose of copium up until the season 1 finale, do I have a deal for you!

Trigun (1998): The not-exactly complete adaptation of the Trigun manga (and/or Trigun Maximum) in a wholesome emotional take of the spaghetti-western genre with a perfectly goofy but terrifying Vash the Stampede. The dub reigns supreme with tones and characterization, and even when the story is close to 60% filler, the pacing between the action (and Kuroneko) gave me time to enjoy the main cast and the environment no matter how brief the encounters are. And on a brief sidenote, Milly is best girl, Wolfwood is actually more than a kickass "priest", the Gung-Ho-Guns (aka. Eyes of Michael) are way more terrifying compared to TriStamp, and Nai/Knives actually gets some goddamn therapy whether he wants to or not.

Land of the Lustrous (Houseki no Kuni): Also produced by the same studio as TriStamp (Studio Orange) but 7 years ahead of its time, it follows the manga of the same name as a quiet apocalypse of the Mind, Body, and Soul; sentient jellyfish amalgamations who live in a near-endless ocean, ageless (and genderless) gemstones who fight for their own purpose in life, and ethereal spirits of the moon who live in cheap entertainment and glittering fancies...And extra fun fact, the jp VA for Phosphophyllite/Phos is the same VA as jp Vash, and their roles are just as similar in anime and manga even if it covers the first arc of Phos' journey. The dub is just as great, but that's just some food for thought. :)

Nier: Automata ver. 1.1a: Produced by A1 Studios, it makes a surprisingly nostalgic retelling of the action-slashing post-apocalyptic game with a interesting blend of homages to Yoko Taro's other titles (Nier/Replicant/Reincarnation & Drakengard 3) as well as changing the original storyline to tie in loose ends. And a great way to explain the 26 whole endings of the game is through cutesy little puppet shows and paper cutouts with a twist. It also gets updated around the same time as TriStamp, so it can also work as a palate cleanser as well!

Dorohedoro: If you want more gore and guts than what TriStamp (somewhat) watered down from the manga, and gives the fans a wholesome dose of found family/familial relationships, then Dorohedoro might be the thing for you! Produced by MAPPA (of Chainsaw Man), it follows the story of two worlds ravaged by magic smoke, demons, ghouls, and one lizard-headed goofball who eats gyoza like a blackhole and has a man living in his mouth like a reverse sock puppet. While I didn't cross-check the manga for its accuracy, the grittiness of the Hole versus the not-Hogwarts level of magical worldbuilding gives you a wacky and wonderful show with plenty of mysteries in every turn...Also Nikaido and Noi are best buff girls, Kaiman is a dangerous dork, and Ebisu deserves all the hugs and pats in the world.

[moogmigmagmoog]

An Actual Tried-Gun Stamp’d 3D Animated Sci-fi TV Show Ramble

Ok ok I’ll try to say at least a few more paragraphs about it. Several paragraphs actually. It’s not very insightful or anything, but I’d like to get it out of my system anyways.

(Also yes I’m changing up names to avoid key word searches. Hope it’s not too confusing.)

I’m stating the obvious here, but the animation alone is groundbreaking and carries the entire show from start to finish. I’ve got scenes that live in my head forever now just because they were that cool. Stamp’d’s one of the best looking shows I’ve seen in a long time. The attempts at world building were nice too, and I’m also not that against some of the streamlining they’ve done (like replacing the 5th moon scenario with July). Didn’t hate most of the redesigns either; Bug Fella got the best update, and I grew fine with Red Guy and Tiny Woman’s new looks by the end. The way they have the cities encased in the ships is interesting too. It loses a good chunk of the Wild West charm but I can see what they’re going for at least, and I don’t mind it. But man did this show need double the episodes it got for the story it tried to tell... The Studio tried to cram so much in every episode, and as a result a lot of the major moments felt empty to me; as soon as you try to process what happened it’s time to move on to the next big thing. I finished almost every episode feeling burnt out while at the same time wishing it was 20 minutes longer, just so they could’ve jangled 2 sets of keys at a time in front my face instead of 5 all at once.

It’s the dangers of trying to retell an old story in a new way in such a limited time. You can change up the visuals and setting, but you still need familiar enough plot points to still be y’know, that story. With how little time The Studio was given, it feels like they reached those plot points like they’re checking off a list. A glaring example for me is how Cross Guy and Red Guy never had a chance to pal around for the entire show; but because the Laws of Tried-Gun dictate that these guys are supposed to be close, they have to be close here too (even if we never fully see how or why). Now for some people that’s not an issue. Plenty of viewers are willing to fill in the blanks themselves. And that’s fine... but in this context I’m not one of those people. I know what should be there, and it’s just not there! Let me see these goofballs eat spaghetti and bicker towards one another, please!

Just to save time and your brain cells, I’m not gonna try to go over every single change in the story I had issues with. Not even sure how to go about talking about it... Really the root of my problems come from how these changes were presented, which again, comes from them having no time to flesh anything out properly. (But I’ll be fair to the pacing, I don’t think extra time would’ve made me feel better about GHG and EoM being merged into a secret eugenics agency run by Bald Scientist)

So I dunno...  I feel very conflicted about Stamp. I was frustrated with a good chunk of it, but it was still fun to look at, and in the end I don’t feel like I hate it. It’s why a 6/10 feels right to me; it’s not the worst thing ever, and there’s enough going for it that I see why it’s hooked so many new people into the series, which is something I’m very happy about.Trigun deserves to be appreciated by a wider audience, and if the new show means even an extra 10 people start checking out the older material, then I can’t be mad. I know we’re supposed to get a 2nd season, so maybe now that The Studio knows this isn’t a one-and-done deal, they’ll be able to stretch the story out more comfortably now. I can’t say I’m fully looking forward to it... but I’m in it for the long haul now. I have to know what happens next.

[paramorearchived]

January 14, 2010

Transcript:

.net photo stream, single stuff, and more!

so i think i got my phone all sorted out for the mobile stream on paramore.net hopefully, now there will be all kinda updates happening. between that, this, and twitter... not to mention, more video stuff when we get back out on the road.

also wanted to say for the record that "the only exception" will probably be the next single everywhere. sure, it may be exclusive in another country for a while but i think it will make it's way over here too. it would be a chance for us to do something different. we've never put out a song that wasn't fast or quirky or upbeat and fun. there are other sides to the band too... you guys know that better than the rest of the world... and to see how people react to the side of us that isn't sorta wild would be fun for us. to be honest, i'm nervous as to how it could go! i like the idea of having to take a leap instead of going with an obvious style of a song... but sure, it's a risk. anyways, i would like to ask you that even if you aren't completely sold on the idea you would at least pretend to support us in it. it's not like this is the last song we'll be releasing anyways! there will be plenty more from brand new eyes.

well, i'm sick still. none of the afore mentioned "to-do's" have been done, really. just a whole lot of sitting around and taking tamiflu. i'm such a disease. but tonight is spaghetti night! so i gotta prepare the angel hair pasta and make meatballs. (look at me actually learning to cook). and you thought it would never happen!

love, hayleymeatballs

[chloesunit3fmp]

Veganism:

A vegan diet consists of plants (such as vegetables, grains, nuts, and fruits) and plant-based meals. Vegans do not consume animal products, such as dairy products and eggs. Vegans can obtain the nutrients they require by following a diversified and balanced vegan diet that includes fortified foods and supplements.

A vegan diet includes all grains, beans, legumes, vegetables, fruits, and the practically limitless combinations of these items. Furthermore, numerous vegan versions of familiar meals are available, so vegans can consume vegan hot dogs, ice cream, cheese, nondairy yoghurt, and vegan mayonnaise in addition to the more familiar veggie burgers and other meat substitute items, such as vegan chicken dishes. Soy milk, nondairy milk alternatives, nutritional yeast, and tofu are all connected with veganism, as is hemp tofu, which is manufactured entirely from hemp seeds. Fermented foods are common in vegan diets as well. Tempeh is a fermented soybean product that comes in a sprouted variant that is, very much, regarded a full food and a decent alternative for tofu. Other fermented goods, including as miso, kimchi, and sauerkraut, are also permitted and promoted in vegan diets. Vegans consume many of the same ordinary meals as everyone else, such as a green salad, spaghetti, peanut butter sandwiches, cornbread, and chips and salsa. Vegan cuisine include, for example, a vegetarian burrito devoid of cheese or sour cream. A vegan Thai curry made with coconut milk is a vegetarian Thai curry prepared with coconut milk. Vegan spaghetti is egg-free pasta with tomato sauce or any non-meat and non-dairy sauce.

Healthy diet for Vegans:

Good sources of calcium for vegans include: green, leafy vegetables such as broccoli, cabbage and okra, but not spinach (spinach does contain high levels of calcium but the body cannot digest it all), fortified unsweetened soya, pea and oat drinks, calcium-set tofu, sesame seeds and tahini, pulses, brown and white bread (in the UK, calcium is added to white and brown flour by law) and dried fruit, such as raisins, prunes, figs and dried apricots.

Eat at least 5 portions of a variety of fruit and vegetables every day base meals on potatoes, bread, rice, pasta or other starchy carbohydrates (choose wholegrain where possible) have some fortified dairy alternatives, such as soya drinks and yoghurts (choose lower-fat and lower-sugar options), eat some beans, pulses and other proteins, eat nuts and seeds rich in omega-3 fatty acids (such as walnuts) every day, choose unsaturated oils and spreads, and eat in small amounts, have fortified foods or supplements containing nutrients that are more difficult to get through a vegan diet, including vitamin D, vitamin B12, iodine, selenium, calcium and iron and drink plenty of fluids 

Referencing:

Jolinda Hackett. (2022). What Is Veganism?. [Online]. The spruce eats. Last Updated: 22 December 2022. Available at: https://www.thespruceeats.com/what-do-vegans-eat-3376824 [Accessed 22 February 2023].

[chewwytwee]

I'mma fail my fucking compsci final project LOL. Me and my partner are plenty capable of doing it, but our communication has been really poor and we've both been tied up with other finals stuff. We're behind and we both had different design ideas in mind, so now it's a messssssss of spaghetti code because we were both trying to make our own ideas work. (we haven't had time to meet in person because we're both again, so busy with our other majors/minors). This shit is due Wednesday, and I think that there needs to be a pretty massive overhaul of the last couple of big updates to make it work.

[candyswirls]

I got you, I joined the fandom and hobby in June

Table top is the actual game. It started out as that and is the main game. They’ve recently updated with 10th edition to make things more simple.

I’d recommend watching “40K in 40 Minutes” by Play on table top. They film matches between experienced players and condense it to a forty minute block. That’s how I was first introduced as my spouse watched them.

Yes you can be a heretic. You don’t even have to be a space marine. Plenty of factions to choose from.

Finding people to play with is like finding people to play DND with. Games are usually one on one/vs. and if there’s a game store near you some places will have events or even just having people coming to play. The one near me has a second floor dedicated for people to play at.

There is a starter kit that gives you three easy to put together minis, paint, and a paint brush: Here

I found that just starting painting and learning as you go is commonplace and the best way.

Rogue Hobbies on YouTube has a video listing different people who can help teach/improve your painting: Here

Minis are known to be expensive. You can get cheaper 3D printed from places like Etsy. Used on EBay. Deals on Amazon. Games Workshop releases boxes with deals usually around Christmas. There’s also Reddit to get cheaper minis. Some gaming shops resell used minis they just can’t really broadcast it otherwise GW gets upsetti spaghetti.

Honestly feel free to ask questions. There’s reddits meant for asking painting questions and things about the games and minis.

There’s also tags for painting on here. I’ll put them below.

So Can anyone help me figure out tabletop Warhammer 40k

yes I get it's like a roll dice and follow all the necessary rules. And yes I know. There are plenty of tutorials on YouTube for me to learn how to use Tabletop but still I don't understand is table top like the actual game? Where do I start? How do I paint the miniatures is everything so expensive? WHO DO I PLAY WITH?! do I have to play with strangers? Is it like DND matches? AND CAN YOU BE A HERETIC... We're do you play? SOMEONE HELP ME LOL

[kfanopinions]

[MARK] face to face - lyric imagine

Word Count: approx. 2.030k Pairing: Mark x Fem Reader Song: Face to Face by Ruel

MASTER LIST || REQUESTS ARE OPEN

LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE A warmth comes to your cheeks. For a month you've been messaging someone by the username: xmarksthespot. Just seeing their name popping up on your phone brings a smile to your face. Whoever they were they were amazingly charming. Never have you had someone who seemed to know what you were feeling and thinking.

It was like he was able to peer into your soul and help you deal with some of your personal problems. When you had a terrible break up with your ex-boyfriend, he was there for you. When your dog needed surgery, he was there for you. No matter what was going on - the good and bad he was there for you.

It was like he was able to peer into your soul and help you deal with some of your personal problems. When you had a terrible break up with your ex-boyfriend, he was there for you. When your dog needed surgery, he was there for you. No matter what was going on - the good and bad he was there for you.

"[Y/N]!" Your co-worker calls to you. "It's time for your break."

"Okay, thanks."

You put away the last bag of chips onto the shelf before stretching your back. Another day of restocking shelves at your local market and another day of searching for a proper lunch. Heading outside into the fresh air a wave of relief comes over you.

Trying to decide between pizza, subway, or to grab a salad back inside the grocery store - you post a picture of yourself looking quite confused, with a question of: 'what should I eat?' followed by a poll on your Instagram.

Getting a few suggestions of pizza and subway from your followers, a particular DM captures your attention - the user, xmarksthespot.

xmarksthespot: why don't you ever pack a lunch? 😂

[you]: never seem to have time before i leave for work ☹️

xmarksthespot: there is an amazing japanese restaurant a few blocks away. if you have time i highly recommend it. i was there the other week with a few friends and it was amazing.

[you]: i'll check it out! thx i know i'll love it ♥ you have great taste 😉

xmarksthespot: ☺️

[you]: okay, well i'll let you know how it was later bye 😘

THAT EVENING YOU UPDATED your Instagram with plenty of pictures of your lunch, thanking personally xmarksthespot for his amazing suggestion. Just as you were preparing to go to sleep a *ding* came from your phone. Thinking only the usual that xmarksthespot was sending you a message you gleefully plop down on your bed - grabbing your phone.

xmarksthespot: glad you enjoyed it. if you ever need recommendations i'm always here for you.

[you]: how about for tomorrow, i have a feeling i won't be packing a lunch xP

xmarksthespot: try the italian restaurant down the street from the japanese place. it's fancier but who doesn't want a good plate of spaghetti?

[you]: thx! btw i don't believe i've asked...what is your name?

xmarksthespot: my name is mark.

[you]: ok, i get it x"mark"sthespot...clever...very clever...

mark: i try to be ^^

[you]: anything going on in your life? i'd love to return the favor for all the times you've helped me

mark: hmm...nothing in particular is going on. i do have someone in mind that i'm interested in but not sure if she'll like me.

[you]: i'm sure she'll love you! you've been soooooo kind to me these past couple of weeks. if you're like this irl then she's an idiot if she doesn't like you.

mark: "..."

Just then a ring on your doorbell breaks you from your conversation. Going to your door your ex-boyfriend holds a bouquet of roses in his hand, a box of chocolates in the other and if those two cliches weren't enough - a boombox playing some sappy song straight out of an 80's romance movie played as he spoke to you.

"Babe, I'm sorry for what I did. I didn't mean to hurt you at all, I was just going through a hard time and I took my frustrations out on you. What I said doesn't reflect how I truly feel. I've tried to give you your space but I can't keep myself from you anymore. Please, take me back?"

"You've got to be kidding me." You stare shocked.

"You know that I love you, right? That I would do anything for you. What happened last month...look I wasn't thinking when I told you I didn't want to be with you. I was dealing with my boss who's a dick and I just -"

You cut him off. "Please, save the excuses. You can't yell at someone in front of people that you hate them and you're done with them, then proceed to leave the restaurant throwing a tantrum like a child and expect that person to take you back."

"I'll do anything please just give me another chance."

Shaking your head you close your door slowly telling him that you can't deal with him at the moment. The night ruined and your mood heavily drained until the familiar ding of your phone grabs your attention.Rushing back to your room you grab it seeing Mark had sent you a couple of messages.

Mark: she doesn't even know i exist. i just wouldn't know how to talk to her. any suggestions?

Mark: you still there...?

Mark: did I overstep I'm sorry...

Quickly firing away a few text in hopes to not lose your savior you tell him what just happened.

[You]: when she sees you i'm sure she'll notice you right away. your beautiful aura will shine through

[You]: maybe try some small talk to break the ice. i know that's not ideal but i bet that'll work!

[You]: sorry about ghosting...my ex showed up with a bouquet of roses, chocolates and doing the 80's boombox thing outside my door -_- I can't believe he did that...after what he said to me...

YOU DIDN'T HEAR FROM Mark the rest of the night. Figuring he went off to do something you stare at the roses your ex gave you. The idea of getting back with your ex has crossed your mind plenty of times this past month. You had been together for over six years. He was your first everything. At the 8th grade dance he kissed you before your dad opened the door and caught him mid-kiss and it was magical. 12th grade, after you came back from the prom to his place - his parents away for the weekend, you shared your first intimate moment together. Again, another magical moment. How can you just forget all of the good times you've had with him?

Was it even possible to put those memories into a box and label it your past in order to move on? As if an angel heard your thoughts your phone goes off.

Mark: are you going to go back to him?

[You]: do you think i should?

You send him a picture of the flowers and chocolates with a huge question mark over the picture.

Again he goes silent.

Feeling like he wasn't going to answer you back for the night you turn off your phone and allow it to charge.

THE FOLLOWING TWO DAYS have been exhausting. Mark has gone silent and hasn't answered any of your messages. He's certainly read them but why he wasn't answering them you didn't know. Work was the same routine dealing with customers and restocking the shelves. Things just became boring. Talking to Mark brightened your day and you didn't even know him.

Another three days pass and still no sign from Mark. You gave up messaging him after the third day and decided to leave him be. Perhaps he finally talked to that girl he was interested in. A deep pout settles on your face. It was strange. You've never met him and yet you feel so connected to him. Not talking to him for this long makes you feel nervous and on edge.

Your phone turning on ever five minutes to see if somehow despite the fact you have your sound on - you may have missed a message, only to be shown you haven't. You put your phone in your back pocket and stand up. Grabbing the next crate of can goods you see a young man walking down the aisle.

He had a black furry jacket and a black beanie, ripped denim jeans, and with a long baggy t-shirt. He was quite cute as he came closer. Trying not to stare to much you look down at the crate and fiddle around making yourself look busy.

"Uh, excuse me," the young man clears his throat.

You look up startled and point to yourself. "M-Me?"

He chuckles nodding, "you are the only one here."

"Uh, y-yeah...d-did you need something?"

"I was just passing by and I can't help but wonder, are you this person..." he holds out his phone showing your Instagram account.

"Yes, that's me. How did you..."

He smiles and puts his phone in his pocket. "I thought that was you. Well, it was nice to meet you." He smiles but there is something laced behind that smile that has you feeling uneasy but at the same time giddy.

"Nice to meet you too..."

He walks away from you chuckling to himself and when your brain registered what happened you went to the end of the aisle and looked around hoping that you would see him and ask how he knew you and how he found you. When you couldn't see him at all you brought out your phone and opened Instagram.

Suddenly a message pops up making you jump where you stood.

Mark: sorry I got busy. maybe it would be best to find someone new? meet anyone interesting?

[You]: actually...

You scan around the store smiling.

I did meet someone interesting. Someone who follows me on here. By any chance...

You leave it open ended.

Mark: By any chance? What?

[You]: Was that person...you?

Mark: "..."

"..."

"..."

You waited for him to reply back to you but it seemed like the dots indicating he was typing started and stopped again and again. Almost as if he was thinking about what to type but changed his mind.

Mark: We should meet face to face properly...

"Don't you think?"

A voice behind you makes you jump. Turning around you see the same young man who you just talked to. Gulping as he smiles shyly you ask the question that's been burning at you.

"Mark?"

He raises his arm and scratches the back of his neck. "Yeah, it's me."

"I, uh...how did you know I worked here?"

He looks at you like you were stupid. "I believe you told me plenty of times that you worked here. Plus, we knew that we lived in the same area. I just...I wanted to apologize to you for ghosting. I didn't mean to I just -"

"It's fine!" You squeak. "I figured that it was because of that girl you were interested in. Did you find out if she likes you?"

He takes a tentative step closer to you, "I'm not sure. I haven't told her I was interested in her yet. I guess the quickest way to find out is to ask now. Don't you think?"

Blinking at him your head tilts in confusion. "Now?"

"[Y/N], I know we've only been talking for about a month but I...I like you...and I wanted to tell you that a while ago but didn't want you to get weirded out or anything and I just...I like you."

"The girl...sh-she's me?"

He nods keeping quiet.

You walk up to him closing the distance between the two of you. Without speaking you wrap your arms around him pulling him into a tight embrace. This is what you wanted to do for so long. You wanted to meet Mark, to hug him, to talk to him in person. You knew that whoever was behind that account was a sweet person and one you wanted to meet badly.

Closing his arms around you he pulls you in closer. "So, is that a yes to liking me?" He asks.

"Yes, it is."

"And your ex-boyfriend?"

"I've already thrown out the chocolates and flowers and properly declined him." You pull from just enough to look at him. "I'm [Y/N], by the way. And it's a pleasure to meet you, Mark."

*soooooo I hope that you enjoyed this! this is my first time doing something like this and it was interesting to take a song and make it into a story. ahhh i hope that it was good ♥ thank you so much for requesting this, it was so much fun!*

[retronator]

Top 10 of 10 years of Retronator

The 10th anniversary of Retronator (the blog) is coming up tomorrow!!! I’ll write a special post for the occasion then, but I thought it’d be interesting to see the most liked and reblogged posts I published on Retronator over these 10 years.

1. The United Pixels of America: 8-bit Map of the USA

January 2019, 18k notes

Compared to other top 10 posts that have been gathering notes for half a decade already, the feature of Danc3r’s detailed, animated map of the United States is pretty much a baby. Still, Tumblr did what Tumblr does best and showed that even in the post-NSFW-apocalypse years of 2019/2020, there are plenty of fans of gaming, art, and pixels (and USA) alive on the site.

2. Paul Robertson artist feature

October 2014, 17k notes

Speaking of the NSFW apocalypse, the feature of @probertson​​​’s work didn’t make it past the nude filters. Even though nudity in art is allowed on tumblr and they’ve been very good at restoring wrongly tagged posts in the past, Paul’s boobies-filled artworks somehow didn’t get approved. So yeah, no link for this post.

3. No Bullshit Pixel Art Tutorial

March 2014, 14k notes

This tutorial tried to condense all the basics of how to get started with pixel art into just 7 images (and seven accompanying 10 sec videos). I later extended it into the Getting Started Guide and eventually turned into gameplay of my game Pixel Art Academy.

4. Fool artist feature

March 2015, 13k notes

There were times when Fool a.k.a. Yuriy Gusev didn’t need an introduction on the pixel art scene. But it’s not the 2000s anymore, so to all of you who haven’t come across his work yet, he’s one of the very best pixel artists of all time, period. Well worth exploring his work.

5. Waneella artist feature

July 2015, 12k notes

I wrote a longer article about @waneella​​ to accompany this post in Retronator Magazine, where I covered her journey from spaghetti-legs Lost Vikings to emerging themes of city skylines that hinted at the magnificent urban illustrations we know Waneella by today.

6. Amplitude Problem

May 2015, 11k notes

@valenberg​​ is well known for his cyberpunk pixel arts and the GIFs he did for YouTube videos of musician Amplitude Problem lended well to the GIF-loving Tumblr crowd. Just recently, Valenberg’s game VirtuaVerse came out, so definitely check that out.

7. Witchmarsh

May 2014, 9k notes

I posted about many pixel art games on this blog and the one that was shared the most was Inglenook’s @witchmarsh​​. It’s now been 6 years since its Kickstarter and we’re still patiently waiting for our beloved 1920s jazz-era RPG. Good things are worth waiting for! Also, their tumblr devlog is still actively updated, so good job guys.

8. The Last Night

October 2014, 7k notes

Second (and final) game on this list is The Last Night, the winning entry for the CyberPunkJam, made by brothers @timsoret​​ and @adrien-soret​​. You might have heard about it … Well, at least the full game that went into development following the prototype’s very positive reception. Seeing the old GIFs now, it’s just crazy to think how far the art direction has been advanced (and I’m sure we haven’t seen anything yet as even the trailer is 3 years old by now).

9. Rocks

May 2017, 6k notes

Finally another post that’s not from what seems to be the 2014–2015 golden area of this blog. People like rocks, I guess, and the trio of tutorials—including one from the incredibly popular Pedro Medeiros of @studiominiboss​​—served some good knowledge on the topic.

10. Vierbit artist feature

February 2014, 6k notes

This is the post that started the whole Artist Feature series, so I guess I have Vierbit’s insanely gorgeous art style to blame for inspiring me to start actively posting about other artists on the blog. From that point on Retronator became less my personal portfolio/brainfart diary and more the journalistic-pixel-art-newspaper that it aspires to be today.

There you have it, the tip of the iceberg of 1,700 total posts from 10 years of Retronator.

Now excuse me while I go make some (pixel) cake for tomorrow.

[the-bafflement-of-scotland-yard]

Because I am still on my usual bullshit

StEx characters as… characters (letters)

Greaseball = ت

GB gets the Arabic T because it looks like a dumb smiley face. Like look at that letter. It has no brain cells

C.B. = Г Γ

Lil Cee gets the Cyrillic or Greek (uppercase) G because it’s a stick with a funky little thing on top, a.k.a. the flop flop flop

Dinah = ω

Dee gets the Greek lowercase long O because it looks like either an ass or boobs, and she possesses plenty of both

Flat-Top = П Π

Flat-Top gets the Cyrillic or Greek P because it literally has a flat top lol

Dustin = ط Ь b

Dustin gets the Arabic T, Cyrillic soft sound sign, or the Latin lowercase B because they all have a little belly

Update!caboose = Д

Update!caboose gets the Cyrillic D because it sort of looks a hat? With its little rim

Momma = Δ

Momma gets the Greek uppercase D because her skirt flowing out kinda looks like a triangle

Electra = ð

Electra gets the Latin (specifically Icelandic) lowercase hard TH, because it looks unique and special but it’s also a bit of hot air

Rusty = Θ

Rusty gets the Greek uppercase TH because it kinda looks like that boob thing he has in the OLC and the 2018 Bochum update

Krupp = Ш

Krupp gets the Cyrillic SH because it’s broad and square

OLC Electra = l I ן ا Ι І

OLC Electra gets the Latin lowercase L, uppercase I, Arabic long A, Hebrew N, Greek capital I, and Cyrillic (specifically Ukrainian, Russian doesn’t have it) I because all of them look like uncooked spaghetti

OLC C.B. = ص

Rat gets the Arabic S because it sort of looks like a rat

[carelessgraces]

@clpdwings said: ❛ Pandas don’t eat macaroni. ❜ carson for mutant!astoria! ( the haunting of hill house sentence starters | accepting )

There aren’t too many things she’s brought with her: clothes, a couple of books, the iPod she’s kept religiously updated since she won’t risk a phone that can connect to the internet, her tattoo machine, the beloved leather jacket. It keeps her from setting down roots. Anything she doesn’t bring with her, she can buy, and it reminds her, time and time again, that she is at her best when she moves, that staying still is painting a target on her back. 

     But she takes this with her. He was a sweet kid, determined to leave her with something to remember him by. ( As if she could ever forget him, the way he would only fall asleep if she’d been singing to him, the way he’d revert to Italian when frightened and she was the only one who could calm him again — how do you forget the last thing in the world to make you feel normal? To make you feel like a person? ) And so he’d defaced one of the paperbacks she kept with her, crayon clasped tightly in his hand, had frowned with such intense concentration as he drew on the title page and had refused to let her see it until he was done. 

     I’m gonna be in Canada, he told her shyly when he presented her with the book. She wouldn’t be driving him, and it was for the best, she knew, but she missed her siblings and he reminded her of her brother, when he was that age. You’ve gotta remember me. And she’d looked down and she’d nearly let out a little sob — a panda, his favorite animal, eating spaghetti, one of the few things they had well-stocked in the safehouse. And he’d even signed it, just in case she forgot the name. She keeps the book with her every time she eaves, now; doesn’t matter how many times she’s read it, doesn’t matter how limited her space is. 

     And so she has it here, in Atlanta, and she’s tracing the outline of the panda’s ears when she hears an almost-familiar voice. Carson’s young, too — younger than her by only a few years, but there’s something boyish to his face that makes her more inclined to scold him when he reaches for a beer than to imagine him as a fighter preparing for a war. He’s standing over her shoulder, looking at the book and the drawing there, the child’s handwriting spelling out Joey in the corner, and she smiles in spite of herself. 

     They leave tomorrow. She’s not sure who, exactly, is coming, only that she’s meant to wait with the getaway car until they get him out; she hopes Carson isn’t tagging along. He’s too young. Too soft. Too idealistic. “They do not,” she concedes, “but this one does. The kid was eight and absolutely obsessed. I didn’t exactly have the heart to become a critic when he gave it to me.” She should be sleeping but she’s too nervous, foot shaking under the table, unlit cigarette between her fingers as she contemplates smoking it, book open in front of her and free hand trailing vaguely along the smooth wax of the crayon. She’s the baby of her family, the youngest sibling by two years, but she finds herself thinking of her oldest sister often these days, finding all the younger mutants inspiring an urge to protect. And she bites her lip for a moment before running her tongue over the indentation left by her teeth, thinking. “Atlanta’s been hit hard, last few years. ‘s a little weird being here. Polaris seems plenty competent, but — between her and Eclipse and Chromia, it’s a lot of big players in one city, let alone so close to each other. It’s a little weird being here. Anyway — busy day tomorrow. Something on your mind? Or are you just too wired to get any sleep?”