#this is not a new premise for me i’ve written it several times for several different fandoms/original works

[lucky-clover-gazette]

when i get some free time and can balance it with my other responsibilities i do fully intend to write some kind of canon divergent fic where the (adult) player character matches volo’s freak and helps him workshop his shitty plan

[aethon-recs]

Tomarrymort Advanced Pack – 12 Longfic Recs

If you’ve made your way through the Tomarrymort Starter Pack and Intermediate Pack reads, here are 12 beautifully written, timeless fics that are Tomarrymort on hard mode for when you’re ready to dive into something that will really challenge your every reading muscle. This selection of fics features some of the most skilled writing I’ve come across in the entire fandom, and I love how these authors tackle incredibly complex subject matter and plotlines and characterization choices with such bold and unflinching perspectives.

Please mind all tags (including CCNTW, explained here) as you may find some themes within some of these fics difficult or challenging to read for a variety of reasons.

This is Part 3 of a 3-part series (see here for Part 1 and Part 2). I hope you get as much enjoyment from reading these additional 3.1 million words of incredible Tomarrymort longfic as I have!

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Tomarrymort Advanced Reads

ǟʟʍǟɢɛֆȶ by eldritcher (M, 134k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 6 Premise: If Harry and Dumbledore team up with Voldemort to save the magical world from a catastrophic threat. Why I rec it: Eldritcher delivers one of the most epic love stories of a lifetime — with Harry and Voldemort surviving a trip to the moon and back, and Harry’s love for Voldemort transcending time and space after Voldemort makes the ultimate sacrifice to save the world and, against all odds, return to Harry. The prose is absolutely transcendent — amongst the best I’ve encountered not only in fanfic, but in all of fiction I’ve ever read. I can’t say enough about how much I love Elditcher’s writing style and how beautifully the story unfolds — there’s a very nice lyrical rhythm underlying all the sentence structure and word choice in the fic that flows like nothing else I’ve read before.

Anabiosis by @itsevanffs (E, 32k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence Pre-Book 1 Premise: If Voldemort resurrects early and takes a teaching job at Harry’s primary school. Why I rec it: This is one of the best and most realistic and gutting depictions I’ve ever read of the quiet tragedy of Harry’s pre-Hogwarts years growing up experiencing severe neglect and an absence of love throughout his entire childhood. @itsevanffs did a magnificent job of capturing Harry’s limited POV and all the fluttering hope his still-trusting heart holds when he meets Mr Riddle, the first teacher who’s ever treated him with kindness. My heart ached so much for Harry throughout this fic, and the emotional arc in this story has continued to haunt me for a very long time afterwards.

Eight Days a Week by @vestiges-of-light (E, 802k, complete)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 7 Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry shortly after his sixth year, which leads to an unlikely truce and eventual partnership that ends up saving the magical world. Why I rec it: This fic combines a sprawling political epic with an incredibly extensive exploration of kink. The author asks a great question in the tags: "Why is only vanilla sex literary?" — and this fic does a fantastic job of proving that messy, filthy, raw sex scenes don’t have to be made sanitized or palatable for mainstream consumption in order to have just as much of a place in a plot-driven, serious longfic as vanilla sex does. Against the high-stakes backdrop of international political intrigue, there’s a very nice domesticity to Harry and Voldemort’s relationship, and how much they trust each other and can be stripped bare and vulnerable in front of each other is very poignant and touching to read about.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 28k, WIP)

Setting: Time Travel (1940s) Premise: If mysterious new transfer student Harry appears in Tom’s sixth year in a state of near complete amnesia. Why I rec it: One of the defining character traits of Tom Riddle is that he’s an absolute genius — the most talented academic mind to ever walk through the doors of Hogwarts — and this fic absolutely delivers on that aspect. Told from Tom’s POV, this fic is like reading a complex multidisciplinary text spanning philosophy and physics and mathematics and magical theory, all interconnected by the mystery of how Harry appeared and where he came from and why he is so utterly forgettable to everyone but Tom.

found by @honbug (E, 112k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Tom grows up in a world with no magic, but has had strange recurring dreams his whole life — dreams of a boy with green eyes and a scar, dreams of a dark graveyard and magical snakes and other mysterious things. Why I rec it: The character work done in this fic is absolutely breathtaking — one of the best character studies of Tom Riddle I’ve ever come across. This is a Tom who grew up without magic, but is no less cold and vicious and psychopathic and teetering on the edge of madness. The story arc follows Tom from his early childhood through his rise as a ruthless leader in an organized crime syndicate not unlike the Death Eaters — all the while that he’s haunted by dreams of Harry, his Harry, even as the dreams start to drive him to the brink of insanity.

how large the teeth by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 257k, complete)

Setting: Voldemort Wins AU Premise: If Harry grows up as an outcast in a world where Grindelwald and Voldemort have already won long before he is born, but he’s still the subject of a prophecy that designates him as their world’s savior. Why I rec it: The worldbuilding is so exquisite and complex in this fic — the author did a spectacular job at completely reimagining the wizarding world from the ground up if the Dark Lord were to win a long time ago and how their extremely inequitable society would subsequently be structured. Harry’s defiance throughout is lovely, and his growing entanglement with Voldemort adds to all the high-stakes and risky moves that he makes throughout the fic. The plotline is very action-packed — a lot of complex plot threads are interwoven throughout the story, with an undercurrent of revolution and discontent simmering under the surface until it explodes in a glorious finale.

In Willing Sacrifice by @hikarimeroperiddle (M, 1,197k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 4 Premise: If Harry finds Voldemort in Riddle Manor the summer before his fourth year, and enters into an unlikely alliance with him before returning to school that year. Why I rec it: This fic covers so much ground — at 1.2 million words (so far!), it’s the most detailed rewrite of canon starting from book 4 that I’ve ever come across, weaving in plenty of magical theory and political intrigue as Voldemort takes Harry under his protection initially in a mentor capacity. The relationship between Harry and Voldemort unfolds in such a beautiful way in this fic — with Harry growing to fall in love with Voldemort, despite all of Voldemort’s murderous and violent qualities, without losing an ounce of his humanity or the inherent goodness inside of his heart along the way.

Lover's Spit by @blogalinda, @k3uuu (E, 88k, WIP)

Setting: Non-Magical AU Premise: If Harry and Tom grow up in a small town together in northern England, and Tom has harbored an obsession for Harry ever since primary school. Why I rec it: An absolutely stunning coming-of-age story set in modern times. This story is striking in so many different ways. It perfectly captures the voice of fringe internet communities in such an authentic way. It also poignantly captures the social isolation and erosion of privacy from living in a small town where gossip spreads like wildfire, and how the internet amplifies these dynamics. At the core of the story is a really sweet love story between Tom and Harry that I am literally obsessed with — every single one of their interactions is so tender and pure — and it’s such a startling contrast to how Tom’s internet persona is portrayed that makes the sweetness all the more heartfelt.

Mi Aedijekit by @kitastrophea (M, 282k, WIP)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Harry is captured by Voldemort and placed under the Draught of Living Death, only to awaken in the far future where Voldemort has ruled over their world for over a thousand years. Why I rec it: A linguistic and sociological tour de force. When Harry wakes up from his magical coma over a thousand years into the future, the world has been entirely transformed, and the skill and effort that the author undertook in fleshing out a society where there’s been a thousand years of cultural change and evolution in language can’t be understated. One of the most unique and fun aspects of the story is learning the new vocabulary of the future alongside Harry for the first time. I love how the fic examines how even Voldemort gets bored with immortality after a millennia of ruling — and how, even with a thousand years separating them and memories of the earlier times scattered to the wind, Harry and Voldemort are still inextricably drawn together.

Of Kings, Of Pawns, and Of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 129k, WIP)

Setting: Canon Divergence – Book 5 Premise: If Voldemort ends up in Harry’s body and Harry ends up in Tom Riddle’s body after a bad encounter with the dementors at the beginning of book 5, and they can’t figure out how to swap back. Why I rec it: This is such an interesting take on the bodyswap trope, which is given a very serious and plotty treatment here. For fear of the safety of his friends, Harry has to go along with returning to his 5th year at Hogwarts in Tom Riddle’s body and being sorted into Slytherin house, while Tom passes himself off as Harry Potter. There’s a mystery behind the depth of Tom’s knowledge and familiarity with Harry, as he knows more about Harry than even Voldemort should. Is it the scar horcrux? Is it Voldemort? Is it something else entirely? The inherent combativeness and magnetism between Harry and Tom keep the tension high as they push each other’s buttons and circle around each other like wolves trying to establish dominance.

Phobia by @katsitting (E, 48k, complete)

Setting: Post-Canon Premise: If Voldemort captures Harry and brutally tortures him to the point of breaking. Why I rec it: This fic does not sugarcoat Voldemort’s capacity for cruelty and sadism in any way, and I admire the author’s commitment to depicting the most horrific of scenarios. Having read countless fics with this setup, I’ll be honest, the depiction in this fic is probably the most likely outcome of any Voldemort-captures-Harry scenario. They do not fall in love. It is not a fun time for Harry. There is gore; there is brutal prisoner torture; there is extremely extensive non-con. I found it very raw and unvarnished — not an easy read, but a very memorable and evocative one. And yet, despite the themes of darkness explored in this fic, it ends on a note of hope.

The Foul (part 1) / The Great (part 2) by @meles-merrivale (M, 24k, complete)

Setting: Time Travel Premise: If Harry gets thrown back in time a thousand years into the past, and does whatever it takes to stay alive until he can meet up with Voldemort again. Why I rec it: This is a fantastic depiction of the slow descent into madness following a disastrous time travel accident and what a thousand years of immortality does to one’s sanity. It’s also a great exploration of the time travel paradox and whether anyone has the power to change the past, or if pivotal historical events are, by their very nature, predetermined. By the time Harry encounters Voldemort again, he is a shell of the person he used to be, but gradually, he finds more of his original humanity and spark for life the more his relationship with Voldemort progresses.

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[specialagentartemis]

Black Women writing SFF

The post about Octavia Butler also made me think about the injustice we do both Butler, SFF readers, and Black women SFF writers by holding her up as the one Black Woman Writing Sci-Fi. She occupies an important place in the genre, for her creativity, the beauty and impact of her writing, and her prolific work... but she's still just one writer, and no one writer works for everybody.

So whether you liked Octavia Butler's books or didn't, here are some of the (many!!! this list is just the authors I've read and liked, or been recommended and been wanting to read) other Black women writing speculative fiction aimed at adults, who might be writing something within your interest:

N. K. Jemisin - a prolific powerhouse of modern sff. Will probably have something you'll like. Won three Hugo awards in a row for her Broken Earth trilogy. I’ve only read her book of short stories, How Long ‘Til Black Future Month? and it is absolutely story after story of bangers. Creative, chilling, beautifully written, make you think. They’re so good and I highly recommend the collection. Several of her novels have spun out of premises she first explored through these short stories, most recently “The City Born Great” giving rise to her novel The City We Became. Leans more fantasy than sci-fi, but has a lot of both, in various permutations. 

Nisi Shawl - EDIT: I have been informed that Nisi Shawl identifies as genderfluid, not as a woman. They primarily write short stories that lean literary. Their one novel that I’ve read, Everfair, is an alternate-history 19th century that asks, what if the Congo had fought off European colonization and became a free and independent African state? Told in vignettes spanning decades of political organization, political movements, war tactics, and social development, among an ensemble of local African people, Black Americans coming to the new country, white and mixed-race Brits, and Chinese immigrants who came as British laborers.

Nnedi Okorafor - American-Nigerian writer of Africanfuturism, sci-fi stories emphasizing life in present, future, and alternate-magical Africa. She has range! From Binti, a trilogy of novellas about a teenage girl in Namibia encountering aliens and balancing her newfound connection to space with expectations of her family; to Akata Witch, a middle-grade series about a Nigerian-American girl moving to Nigeria and learning to use magic powers she didn’t know she had; to Who Fears Death, a brutal depiction of magical-realism in a futuristic, post-war Sudan; to short stories like "Africanfuturism 419", about that poor Nigerian prince who’s desperately sending out those emails looking for help (but with a sci-fi twist), and "Mother of Invention" about a smart house taking care of its human and her baby… she’s done a little bit of everything, but always emphasizes the future, the science, and the magic of (usually western) Africa.

Karen Lord - an Afro-Caribbean author.  I actually didn’t particularly like the one novel by her I’ve read, The Best of All Possible Worlds, but Martha Wells did, so. Lord has more novels set in this world—a Star Trek-esque multicultural, multispecies spacefuture set on a planet that has welcomed immigrants and refugees for a long time, and become a vibrant multicultural planet. I find her stories rooted in near-future Caribbean socio-climatic concerns like "Haven" and "Cities of the Sun" and her folktale-fantasy style Redemption in Indigo more compelling.  And more short stories here.

Bethany C. Morrow - only has one novella (short novel?) for adults, Mem, but it was creative and fascinating and good and I’d be remiss not to shout it out. In an alternate-history 1920s Toronto, scientists have discovered how to extract specific memories from a person—but then those memories are embodied as physical, cloned manifestations of the person at the moment the memory was made. The main character is one such “Mem,” struggling to determine who she is if she was created from and defined by one single traumatic memory that her original-self wanted to remove. It’s mostly quiet, contemplative, and very interesting.  (Morrow has some YA novels too. I read one of them and thought it was okay.)

Rebecca Roanhorse - Afro-Indigenous, Black and "Spanish Indian" and married into Diné (Navajo). I’ve read her ongoing post-apocalyptic fantasy series starting with Trail of Lightning, and am liking it a lot; after a climate catastrophe, the spirits and magic of the Diné awakened to protect Dinetah (the Navajo Nation) from the onslaught; and now magic and monsters are part of life in this fundamentally changed world. Coyote is there and he is only sometimes helpful. She also has a more traditional second-world epic high fantasy, Black Sun, an elaborate fantasy world with quests and prophecies and seafaring adventure that draws inspiration from Indigenous cultures of the US and Mexico rather than Europe. She also has bitingly satirical and very incisive short stories like “Welcome to Your Authentic Indian Experience” about virtual reality and cultural tourism, and the fantasy-horror "Harvest."

Micaiah Johnson - her multiverse-hopping novel The Space Between Worlds plays with alternate universes and alternate selves in a continuously creative and interesting way! The setup doesn’t take the easy premise that one universe is our own recognizable one that opens up onto strange alternate universes—even the main character’s home universe is wildly different in speculative ways, with the MC coming from a Mad Max-esque desert community abandoned to the elements, while working for the universe-travel company within the climate-controlled walled city where the rich and well-connected live and work. Also, it’s unabashedly gay. 

And if you like audiobooks and audio fiction (I listened to The Space Between Worlds as an audiobook, it’s good), then Jordan Cobb is someone you should check out. She does sci-fi/horror/thriller audio drama. Her works include Janus Descending, a lyrical and eerie sci-fi horror about a small research expedition to a distant planet and how it went so, so wrong; and Descendants, the sequel about its aftermath. She also has Primordial Deep, about a research expedition to the deep undersea, to investigate the apparent re-emergence of a lot of extinct prehistoric sea creatures. She’s a writer/producer I like, and always follow her new releases. Her detailed prose, minimal casts  (especially in Janus Descending), good audio quality, and full-series supercuts make these welcoming to audiobook fans. 

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Nalo Hopkinson - a writer who should be considered nearly as foundational as Octavia Butler, honestly. A novelist and short story writer with a wide variety of sci-fi, dystopian futures, fairy-tale horror, gods and epics, and space Carnival, drawing heavily from her Caribbean experiences and aesthetics.

Tananarive Due - fantastical/horror. Immortals, vampires, curses, altered reality, unnerving mystery. Also has written a lot of books.

Andrea Hairston - creative and otherworldly, weird and bisexual, with mindscapes and magic and aliens. 

Helen Oyeyemi - I haven’t read her work but she comes highly recommended by a friend. A novelist and short story writer, most of her work leans fairytale fantastical-horror. What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours is a collection of short fiction and recc’ed to me as her best work. White is for Witching is a well-regarded haunted house novel. 

Ashia Monet - indie author, writer of The Black Veins, pitched as “the no-love-interest, found family adventure you’ve been searching for.” Magic road trip! Possibly YA? I’m not positive. 

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This also doesn’t include Black non-binary sff authors I’ve read and liked like An Owomoyela, C. L. Polk, and Rivers Solomon. And this is specifically about adult sff books, so I didn’t include Black women YA sff authors like Kalynn Bayron, Tomi Adeyemi, Tracy Deonn, Justina Ireland, or Alechia Dow, though they’re writing fantasy and sci-fi in the YA world too.

And a lot of short stories are out there in the online magazine world, where so many up and coming authors get their start, and established ones explore offbeat and new ideas.  Pick up an issue (or a subscription!) of FIYAH magazine for the most current Black speculative writing.

[calaisreno]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @7-percent, @totallysilvergirl and @gaylilsherlock. Thank you!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 

147. I’ve been here nearly 6 years, some years more prolific than others. 

2. What's your total A03 word count?

Right now, just shy of 2M: 1,937,496, to be exact

3. What fandoms do you write for?

BBC Sherlock and ACD Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Synchronicity Date Night A Chronic Condition The Wedding Gift Blank Slate Wooing Sherlock Holmes has recently moved up and is close enough to nudge its way to number 5.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Always, even if it’s just to say thank you. I appreciate comments, often feel humbled by the compliments people give. It just feels right to respond. (Maybe if I were getting hundreds of comments a day, I would have to rethink that.)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Either Below Zero or The New Gardener. Both have MCD, but sort of a soft landing. Also Learning the Heart and The Real You, but those also have endings that mitigate the angst, a bit.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I write a lot of happy endings; it’s my preferred resolution.  My choice: The Short Tragic Death of John Watson. John does NOT die, but there’s a very cheesy happy ending that made many readers scream.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. A couple rude comments, but no intentional hatred.

9. Do you write smut?

Not much. I don’t write PWP, but include a sex scene where the plot seems to need it. I'm not opposed; it's just not my usual.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I’ve written two GO/Sherlock stories: Limbo and Hell and Back. I’ve written stories that borrow from other fandoms, but are not exactly crossovers. The closest to a crossover would be Serendipity, which borrows plot from the movie. I’ve borrowed from movie and book universes to make an original story (Eye of the Storm, A Chamber to be Haunted, Do No Harm), and I’ve borrowed premises (The Real You)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

About 60 of my fics have been translated, most of them into Russian, a couple into Chinese, on into Spanish. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. 

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The Secret of Agra: a post-Reichenbach fic that I started in 2020. It has been through several transformations. I rarely give up permanently on a story, though. A few have grown into something new that I ended up posting. I expect I'll finish this when inspiration strikes me.

16. What are your writing strengths?

The things readers most often compliment me on: 

Character voice and emotions.  

World building. 

Versatility: historical fiction, case fics, science fiction, fantasy, rom-coms, etc.

Making readers cry.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. In Greek tragedy you simply have a character enter and describe the murder that’s just occurred offstage. In fanfiction, that’s a nope. And you have to think out every move, make the scene visual. I admire writers who make this seem effortless. (That's you, @discordantwords !!!) Description: finding non-cliche ways to describe things/people without making it weird and overly fussy.  Being too minimal: I am not a wordy writer; minimalism was how I was taught, but sometimes I need to be wordier.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’ve done bits of this, but only in languages I’ve studied. I have a degree in Latin, and have used that in couple stories: A Demon's Tale, Accidental Magic. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The first and only fandom I’ve posted in is Sherlock Holmes (ACD and BBC). I don’t have any plans to move. I used to write original fiction, but have found fanfiction so much more rewarding.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

This is hard to answer. Last Envoy is the story I’m most proud of.  I write the stories I want to read, and I do re-read a number of them, some more than others. My favorite fic written in 2023 is The Traveller.

Has everybody been tagged? How about @mydogwatson @lisbeth-kk @discordantwords @copperplatebeech @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @bertytravelsfar @jrow @thegildedbee @helloliriels @gregorovitchworld ???

[episodicnostalgia]

Comic Book Break: The Venom Symbiote

Featured art by Ron Lim: Covers for Marvel Tales #266-268 Mark Bagley: Carnage/Spidey/Venom Poster Ron Frenz: Cover for Amazing Spider-Man #252

I grew up as a Spider-man fan in the 90’s, which means I (predictably) thought Venom was the coolest villain of all time.  My Dad introduced me to Spidey’s ‘modern era’ shortly after Carnage first hit the scene, which means the Symbiote villains were a hot topic.  As such, my first introduction to both Venom and Carnage would be in the pages of ‘The Amazing Spider-man’ #365, and boy did that issue leave an impression. 

You see up to that point my fascination with the web head was moderately new, and I remained largely ignorant to the finer points of his lore.  My Dad had just begun to re-discover comic books for the first time since his childhood, and this particular issue was a extra sized anniversary edition, replete with a holographic cover, character histories, and even a handful of bonus stories that were framed around various side characters who could reminisce about Spider-man’s classic tales.  It was a handy way to bring new readers up to speed, and it worked well enough on my Dad (much to my approval) for him to continue collecting until the Clone Saga ruined everything.  ASM #365 also featured this absolute BANGER of a poster by Mark Bagley.  Check it out!

That image was seared into my brain, and two things became abundantly clear to me 1) Those villains were unequivocally, the greatest characters in modern literature, and 2) I needed to know why. Obviously I asked my Dad who those guys were, and he proceeded to explain the basic premise of the Symbiote suit and it’s history with Spider-man.  Needless to say, I became obsessed with finding an issue, ANY ISSUE, that featured Venom and/or Carnage; I wanted to know everything about these guys.  The only obstacle that stood between me and my goal was my age, as I was still quite young, and I think my folks were just the tiniest bit leery of exposing me to a characters who looked and behaved like, if we’re being honest, bloodthirsty hell demons (or brain thirsty, as the case may be).

As luck would have it, my dad found a pretty fair compromise in the pages of ‘Marvel Tales’.  MT was a series that featured reprints of classic-or-topical spider-man comics from days of yore, often with new cover art by a current artist.  Since the introduction of Carnage was turning heads towards the Spider-man books (also around the same time the comic book speculators boom was taking off)  it was a prime opportunity for Marvel to reprint the issues of ASM that introduced the original symbiote creature (written by Roger Stern).  So, my dad bought me several issues (pictured up top, and immediately below) to satiate my curiosity for another year before I finally got finally see Venom himself, and in the mean time I was simply delighted to be reading the origin story as I went.

Since those days, my interest in Venom has wavered dramatically depending on the project/medium/who’s writing him, and I’ve found much of what’s been produced fairly underwhelming; but my admiration of the design for Spider-man’s black costume has remained steadfast.  If I’m being (perhaps heretically) honest, I almost prefer the black costume to the original.  Something about it just feels so correct for the character, and clearly I’m not the only person who felt as much.  Despite some initial push-back,  the black costume had garnered enough support by the end of the 8-issue symbiote saga, for it to be brought back as just a ‘regular costume, but with the symbiote aesthetic.’ From that point on, it would feature regularly for several years before Venom officially inherited the look.

And just to be clear, no I wouldn’t ever truly want to replace Spider-man’s classic look, but you gotta admit, the black suit looks mighty slick.

[freya-captain]

This is also another old one I’ve sent to someone else before and sorry but I would love to hear your take on this kinda if premise haha

Ok plz hear me out…everything in hotd is the same except omega aegon was disqualified to be king because of his omega status so was sent off to the north to be married and mated to alpha Cregan stark as soon as he was of age they now have several children….maybe viserys and Ali be two ages him far away from flea bottom and the drama or something idk so now aemond is the alpha son next In like and who has equal claim to the throne now and has usurped the throne from rhaenrya…rhaenrya is hesitant about what to do with her options thanks to daemon ..then alpha jace suggest she sends her sons with the dragons broker peace and alliances during their impending war…rhaenrya is wondering if they should skip stark cause he is married to aegon and this may cause conflict but Jace says to send him anyway and says he may had some pull….when pushed on what this is he hesitantly admits that aegons first born son is actually his lol his mother is not impressed by this new info haha

hahaha I’m glad to read this! I couldn't help but picture that Aegon sat by the window of Winterfall watching the snow silently falling (like forgiveness from the sky) and holding his baby, which was the only gift that Jace gave him he got to keep, the only thing left that belonged to him in this foreign, cold land.

I was starting to write this clip when I thought what if let AI give it a go, so that's what ChatGPT gave us and I only did a slight changes. I felt craaaazy.

Jace/Aegon, Cregan/Aegon; Omegaverse

originally written by AI

Winterfell was a cold and snowy place, with the castle surrounded by snowdrifts that seemed to grow taller every day. The great stone walls of the castle were covered in a layer of frost, and icicles hung from the eaves of the roof. Inside, the castle was warm and inviting, with roaring fireplaces in every room that filled the air with the comforting scent of burning wood.

Aegon often found himself sitting in front of the fireplace in his chambers, staring into the flames and thinking about Jacaerys. He would imagine what it would be like to still be with him, to hold him in his arms and to feel his warm breath against his skin like he did in the past. But then he would remember Cregan, his alpha and husband, and he would feel guilty for even thinking about another man.

Since presented as an Omega, Aegon Targaryen II knew he would be arranged to marry some noble lord instead of inheriting lands and titles like his Alpha brother Aemond would. He had never dared to hope that the Alpha would be his Jace, but neither did he anticipate Alicent's decision was to send him north off to the savages. She clearly hoped the marriage could strengthen the alliance between the Iron Throne and the North. The wedding ceremony was grand enough only this was the last time Aegon saw his hometown, no trace of Jacaerys.

Aegon and Jacaerys were closest friends when they were young boys. Over time, their friendship had developed into something more, and Aegon found himself falling in love with Jacaerys. He tried to bury his feelings, to focus on his duty as a husband and as a member of House Targaryen. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't forget about Jacaerys. Not after he gave birth to their child, a brown-haired girl named Stark, who had no blood of direwolf within her but every feature of his young lover.

Sometimes, Aegon would take long walks through the snow-covered grounds of Winterfell, trying to clear his mind. He would breathe in the cold, crisp air and feel the snow crunching under his boots. But even in the peace and quiet of the winter landscape, he couldn't escape his feelings. That's when he started to write letters to Jace.

He never did well with words and spelling, but he wrote and wrote, all in High Valyrian. Not that he worried Cregan may find out about them, nothing in the letter he couldn't show to the public. It's just sweet for him to share a language that he could't speak with anyone else.

Jacaerys wrote back. At first, the letters were filled with stories of what was happening on Dragonstone and news of the realm. But over time, the letters became more personal. They would write to each other almost every day, and the letters became a lifeline for both of them.

As the years passed, Aegon's love for Jacaerys only grew stronger. He found himself looking forward to Jacaerys' letters more and more, eagerly devouring every word as if they were the only thing that kept him going.

But Aegon also felt guilty for his feelings. He knew that Cregan deserved a husband who loved him as much as he loved Jace, and he felt like he was failing Cregan as a husband. He tried to be kind to him, to show that he appreciated him, but he knew that it wasn't enough.

When Cregan Stark discovered their affairs when Jacaery visited the North, he was both furious and disappointed. He felt betrayed and hurt that Aegon had been unfaithful to him. Especially he and Jacaerys already became good friends and trustable allies. He couldn't understand why he would risk everything for someone else.

But despite his anger, Cregan still loved Aegon deeply after their years spent together. He knew that Aegon was struggling with his feelings for Jacaerys, and he understood that it wasn't easy for him to keep those feelings hidden. So instead of lashing out in anger, he tried to find a way to make things work.

When Aegon finally confessed the truth to him, that their first daughter's real father was Jace, Cregan was silent for a long moment, staring at him with a mixture of sadness and anger. But then he took a deep breath and spoke.

"What can I say?" he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I married no ordinary one. I married a dragon. I knew what I was getting into when I chose you, Aegon. I knew that there would be challenges and struggles, but I also knew that I loved you enough to face them. And I still do."

Aegon was surprised by Cregan's reaction, expecting him to be furious and unforgiving. But instead, he saw a deep love and acceptance in Cregan's eyes. They talked for hours, working through their feelings and trying to find a way to move forward.

In the end, they came to a compromise. Aegon would continue to be a devoted husband to Cregan and a loving father to their children, but he would also keep in touch with Jacaerys through letters. It wasn't the perfect solution, but it was enough for them to find some peace and happiness in their lives.

Years went by, and Aegon and Cregan had more children, all of whom were loved and cherished by both of their fathers. They created a life together, one that was built on love, trust, and compromise. And though there were still struggles and challenges, they faced them together, knowing that their love was strong enough to withstand anything.

Until the war broke and dragons danced.

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Onyx Eyes & Spooky Antiques | Rhett Abbott Imagine | Outer Range x Addams Family

Contains light spoilers to Netflix’s ‘Wednesday’

My Masterlists

Characters & Pairings: Rhett Abbott x Persephone Addams!OC (Romantic), The Abbott Family, The Addams Family, Maria Olivares

Content Warnings: fluff, morbid sense of humor (typical Addams family style), slight profanity, slight spoilers for ‘Wednesday’, bullying and slight animal cruelty. Cannon divergence | Female OC (she/her) | Wc: 9k

Premise: Returning to Wabang with a broken heart, Rhett Abbott longed to be able to open up to someone without history repeating itself. When his niece, Amy, requests out of the blue to go to a antique store he had yet to discover, the familiar name attached to it has him thinking back to his high school days. Now ten years after wondering what happened to the oldest daughter of Wabang’s most peculiar family, Rhett gets his answers…and possibly something more along the way.

Note: omg I don’t know why this came to mind, but after binging ‘Wednesday’ and hyper-fixating on Rhett Abbott and Top Gun lately I just wanna do a Addams family crossover series/dribbles. This was in my head for at least a good day before I got to writing it and it’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. I hope y’all enjoy and just know there is some cannon divergence to fit the narrative. Let me know if yall liked this because I’m thinking of doing a whole Drabble list of my Addams!OC x Rhett Abbott (like Rhett meeting the Addams family, his reacting to the relationship, Maria returning, etc) if this gets well received. 🥺

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“Can you take me to Addams Antiques, Uncle Rhett?” The plate Rhett was washing nearly slipped from his hands. With wide eyes he turned to his side to find Amy holding out her own plate with puppy dog eyes. In his head he thought, ‘did I hear her right?’

“Run that by me again.”

She gave a sound that resembled an annoyed sigh, “Can you please take me to Addams Antiques? It’s over by the farmers market grandma is always going to after church.”

“I don’t remember that being there months ago,” Rhett mumbled, drying the plate before placing it on the dish rack and taking the one from Amy. It had been about a month since Rhett returned home after the shit show that was his relationship with Maria. After years of harboring a crush on her, Rhett thought he finally got the chance he was dreaming of.

But it didn’t go as planned. Now he was stuck home again, bull riding his way to make enough money to leave and helping his parents with the ranch. What he enjoyed the most being back was getting to spend time with Amy. She had updated him on all that was new in town and what he missed when he was gone. Hearing there was an antique store sharing a familiar name he hadn’t heard in a long time was something new.

Though Adams with one ‘d’ was a common last name, Rhett only knew of one family who spelled it with two. The Addams family, who lived on the outskirts of town in the middle of nowhere between the hills and mountains—closed off from the rest of civilization. None of the locals dared to travel close to their spooky mansion that seemed to have its own fog surrounding it along with their private graveyard.

The Addams family had moved to the small town of Wabang over ten years earlier. A wealthy family, they invested in several businesses and owned many of their own including the town’s funeral home and floral shop (which only sold bouquets in the color palette of red, white, black, and grey).

Their appearance was a shock to the many generations of residents who were put off by their gothic style and peculiarity views of life. Rumors immediately spread upon their arrival: that their butler was actually Frankenstien’s monster, that the uncle was a wanted fugitive. Many were certain their fountain of wealth came from dirty money that the father Gomez was involved in. His pinstriped suit and cigar hanging from his mouth made him look like a gangster from the 20s. Women, envious of the beautiful Morticia, voiced her to be a vampire or witch who cursed people that disrespected the family.

They might be right with their suspicions—considering when a drifter attempted to cop a feel on her and began having a seizure.

Gomez and Morticia were the couple everyone in Wabang looked at with distaste yet silently admired. Everyone saw how genuine their love was for each other and their family. Gomez worshiped the ground Morticia walked on, and Morticia always looked at Gomez as though it was the first time she saw him.

Then there were the children. Three very odd children who were known to say or do things that were unorthodox to the conversative townsfolk. The youngest, Puglsey, seemed to always wear a striped t-shirt and shorts who enjoyed vandalism and partaking in whatever his sister Wednesday was up to. Wednesday, the middle child and youngest daughter, was never seen without her long black pigtails and stone cold face. Her monotone voice and habit of saying the most morbid things scared away kids her age—not that she minded, in fact, she enjoyed scaring them. A prodigy on the cello, Wednesday was asked to play for the high school when she was still an elementary student….until she was kicked off for setting fire to the band room at practice when the kids stole her music sheets to sabotage her.

Lastly there was the oldest, Persephone. Named after the Greek beauty herself. She was ten years older than Wednesday and twelve older than Pugsley. Like her siblings, Persephone was pale with straight black hair that fell above her shoulders and plump dusty rose lips she often painted with blood red lipstick. Cheekbones high with jawlines that could cut through wood. She stood out like a sore thumb in school with her black attire that contained lace, leather, skulls, roses, and all things dark. At school she mostly kept to herself, hiding away in the library or the art room during study hall and lunch. People snickered as they would pass her, write ‘freak’ in sharpie on her locker, or gave looks of distaste.

Persephone never paid any mind to them. She never gave the attention they desired which only made them more frustrated. Hardly would she speak to anyone, save for the teachers, but every now and then she’d make a witty comeback to whoever insulted her which left the entire classroom speechless. Like when Destiny Samuels told her she looked like she was always dressed for a funeral and Persephone, deadpan, went, “I’m practicing for when I attend yours.”

Destiny never made eye contact with her ever again.

Rhett remembered Persephone. She transferred to the high school at the beginning of his junior year and was already far ahead than most in their class. At no point would Rhett consider her a friend or even an acquaintance. The only time he ever found himself close in proximity with Persephone was when they sat next to each other in Spanish—though he couldn’t remember ever seeing her do class work because it was learned quickly that Spanish was her native tongue and spoke in full conversations with the teacher rather than partake in the lecture. Then one time Rhett was passing the French classroom during free period and overheard her speaking full French with the teacher.

The week later, Rhett was serving detention and had to clean out the gym where he found Persephone in a heated fencing duel with a person he’d never seen before. Turns out, it was her private coach and Persephone was training to take home the national title.

She did, not allowing her opponent to get a single point in. The news came with her face plastered on every newspaper in the state. To the surprise of everyone, Persephone donated her earnings to the elementary school for new computers and library books. Not too long after, once people got over their jealousy, parents were—with hesitance— approaching Persephone to ask for fencing lessons for their children.

And you can best believe she charged high prices.

There were two times where Rhett Abbott exchanged words with Persephone Addams. The first happened when Persephone was purposely bumped into by Maria and her crew—the group giggling as the contents in Persephone’s hands spilled to the ground. At the time Rhett was sporting a massive crush on Maria and was going to ignore the situation like everyone else, but something in his head told him he’d feel guilty—and his momma raised him better than that. Even if she thought the same of the Addams family as the whole town.

So when Rhett knelt down to help gather some pages that scattered, he saw the visible reaction of Persephone, who paused slightly before shuffling through her bag to throw in pens and markers. Not a word was spoken as the two cleaned up the mess. Rhett was careful to not accidentally tear the papers, which he recognized as some of her artwork. It was all done in charcoal and oils—mostly consisting of spiders, snakes, graveyards, castles, with a few portraits of historical figures and her family. Rhett couldn’t help but let his eyes linger. They were beautiful.

“These are really good,” he said before he could stop himself. The words have Persephone still, finally looking up to him after keeping her head down the entire time. Here Rhett was able to get a better look at her face and he felt the air catch in his throat.

She was mesmerizing.

In class Rhett only ever saw her side profile which was often concealed by her dark hair or scarf. Now it was less than five feet from him and clear as day. There was not a blemish in sight on her pale skin and the contours of her cheeks were what models strived for. Her eyes were nearly black like onyx and accentuated by the eyeliner framing them with thick long lashes that gave her an almost doll-like appearance. It was like she was a character from a Tim Burton movie.

“Thank you,” even her voice was haunting and sensual. The simple phrase sends chills down Rhett’s arms. “And thank you…for helping me. That was very kind of you.”

Rhett forgot how to think, blinking rapidly as he began to stutter, “U-uh, yeah-yeah. No problem.” He extended his hand holding the drawings, watching her own reach out to take them. Her manicured nails were painted the same color as her lips, blood red. Rhett flinched as a spark of electricity coursed through him when her finger brushed over his. When he looked up, she was frozen in a daze. Rhett frowned, confusion filling him as he snapped his fingers in front of her only to be met with no reaction.

It was like she was a robot that lost its battery.

Suddenly he was jumping back when she rapidly blinked. “Sorry!” She said, quickly snatching the papers and closing them into a random book before gathering the rest of her belongings. Standing up in a rush, Persephone turned on her heel and rushed down the hall to the class she was now late to. Rhett was left crouching on the ground, a pink hue to the top of his ears as he tried to wrap his head around what happened. People were looking at him like, ‘were you really talking to the Addams freak?’ Not liking the looks, Rhett scurried off to his class—knowing it was going to be the talk of the school for the rest of the week.

And it did…ending horribly. Well not for Rhett, per say, but for Persephone.

Words spread like wildfire in Wabang and the high school was usually at the center of it. So when the news of Rhett helping Persephone Addams broke, followed by a classmate catching sight of a portrait she drew of him, some people found it as bait.

Especially Maria.

Maria saw it as an opportunity to poke fun at the oldest Addams. Even though it was well known Persephone was a loner at school, it didn’t stop people, especially Maria, from being envious of her. Persephone was naturally beautiful, a prodigy in fencing and the arts, intelligent to the point where teachers hardly gave her class work because she already knew the material inside and out and didn’t give a fuck about what others thought of her.

Getting attention from Rhett and possibly having a crush on him was enough to fuel the fire slowly burning in Maria.

And so the Friday before spring break of their junior year, Maria gathered her friends and broke into Persephone’s locker during their study hall while she was in her AP English class. To their shock, not only was the locker filled with plants, but also found a large grey rat in a cage running on a wheel perched on the top shelf. “She is the type to have weird pets,” Maria cringed, taking the cage in her hands while someone ripped the vines and flowers from their pots. Finally they spotted the black leather bound book they figured was her sketchbook and snatched it.

When Rhett exited his U.S History class that afternoon, the sound of laughter coming from the next hallway drew his attention. People had their phones out and were taking pictures or video recording. “Damn, did you see the look on her face!” He heard someone laugh. “I knew she had a crush on Abbott—I caught her eye fucking him the other day in Spanish.” As he came around the corner Rhett froze at a horrible sight.

Not only was Persephone covered in a red slushie, but several of her drawings were torn to pieces and hanging on the lockers. Rhett spotted Maria on the opposite side, holding her stomach from how hard she was laughing while her friends mirrored her on either side. Then his eyes drifted over to what Maria had in her hand, recognizing the style of charcoal in the portrait. His own face stared back at him.

Persephone had drawn him. The only color being that of his cerulean eyes in contrast to the black and grey of his visage. It was so detailed it was like he was staring in a mirror.

He couldn’t even react because soon the situation took a darker turn when something dropped from the ceiling, hanging in front of Persephone so it was eye level. It was a lifeless grey rat.

“Should’ve known a freak like you would keep rats for pets, Addams,” Maria snickered, watching as the teen’s eyes widened as it stared back into the dead eyes of their pet. “I bet you even have his grave plot reserved at home. Huh?” Maria crumbled the drawing in her hand, throwing it at Persephone which ended up hitting the rat causing it to hit her in the face. It sent another wave of laughter through the crowd. “Oh and forget about that little crush of yours. No one in this town will ever get with a freak like you. Enjoy your spring break—have fun burying your pet.”

Everyone dispersed after that, leaving Persephone—save for Rhett—in the middle of the hall. Shaky hands came up to wipe the residue on her face before gently taking the rat in her hands. Rhett waited until everyone was gone, ignoring the way people clapped him on the back with the snide, ‘go get your girl, Abbott,’ before walking up to Persephone.

She didn’t look at him, keeping her head down to gaze at the dead rat, running a finger over his neck to find it crushed. Rhett picked up the crumbled paper, unraveling it to reveal the drawing of him. When she didn’t react, Rhett took it upon himself to remove the torn pieces of the artwork off the walls. They were the same ones he saw that monday along with a few others he assumed were new.

Anger filled him, furious at Maria and the entire school for committing such a cruel act. The drawings were not only torn but also marked with sharpie with the words, ‘freak,’ and ‘witch.’ There was even a drawing of a stick figure tied to what appeared to be a stake. What the fuck was wrong with people? And to kill a rat and throw a slushie on Persephone to humiliate her? How could anyone condone that when she did nothing to them.

“Hey,” he approached her when he got all the pieces. Her dark hair glistened under the light from the liquid, red staining her face and neck. It just so happened Persephone was wearing a white dress that day under her blazer so the fabric was now ruined. Black streaks streamed down her face as a result of the eyeliner she was wearing. Rhett felt his heart clench, sympathy overtaking his anger. “I-I I’m so sorry. Uh-I had no idea—t-that Maria would do—.”

“Not your fault,” she cut him off gently. Rhett watched in silence as she took the cage sticking out of the trash can to place her rat in before placing it to the ground. Without looking at him, Persephone took the papers and discarded the torn pieces, keeping the crumbled one of him in her hand. Next thing Rhett knew she was handing it to him, “Here. You can have this. Unless you find it weird and then you can throw it away. I don’t mind whatever you choose.” And so she stood with her hand out, waiting for Rhett to take it from her.

He wasn’t sure what to think. Part of him felt confused as to why she felt the need to draw him, another part of him a weird feeling of warmth. Hardly any girls ever paid attention to him. With a slight blush, Rhett gently took the sketch—trying not to react as another spark of electricity hit him when their fingers touched, however Persephone did as a pink hue appeared on the apples of her cheeks.

Finally she met his eyes. Onyx meeting blue. And Rhett frowned at the sight of water lining her eyes. On Monday when Maria had deliberately pushed her, she was obviously annoyed but remained stoic. Here, Pesephone’s face was tight, showing it took everything in her not to become emotional.

“Thank you for all your help,” she whispered, bottom lip trembling as she gulped. “Have a lovely spring break, Rhett.” And again, she was gone before he could get another word out—gripping the cage and her bag in either hand and speeding out the nearest exit.

That was the last time Rhett saw Persephone Addams.

After spring break Rhett was back in school and the first thing he noticed was the empty seat beside him in Spanish class. It didn’t concern him, for sometimes Persephone would spend the period in the library since she already spoke the language. But then Tuesday it was empty again—and Maria was gone too. And then Wednesday. Finally on Thursday, Rhett got the answer to why Persephone and Maria were a no show all week.

“You didn’t hear?” Travis Coleson from his Chemistry asked with wide eyes. Rhett just gave him a look that read, ‘I wouldn’t have asked if I did.’ In response, Travis scotched over and leaned in to whisper so the teacher couldn’t hear. “On Monday during Mrs. Parker's third period, Addams waltzed in—mind you she doesn’t have that class at all—and slammed Maria’s head to the desk. Then the psycho dropped a black widow spider onto her face! It bit her on the cheek from what I heard and they had to call an ambulance.”

Rhett couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “Holy fuck,” he muttered, bringing a hand to caress his jaw. His thoughts were swarming. On one hand he felt a little bad for Maria—mostly because he for some odd reason still had a crush on her—but on another felt she deserved it after the stunt she pulled. Although, ending up in the hospital is a tad bit far. “Is um— they okay?”

Travis made a face at the question, “well besides being traumatized and having a large red spot on her face, Maria is just dainty,” he spoke with obvious sarcasm. “Addams on the other hand got expelled. Last I heard my folks caught sight of their family car leaving town Tuesday and returnin’ this mornin’—but no sign of Persephone. Rumor is they sent her to some boarding school out of state.”

Rhett frowned at the news, licking his lip as he turned away from Travis deep in thought. There was an odd feeling in his stomach—one he had trouble describing. It carried with him all day, turning into nausea when he spotted Maria hiding in the corner of the cafeteria with her friends—a large bandage covering her cheeks. She looked tired with red puffy eyes as if she had been crying for a long time.

The rest of the year Rhett never saw Persephone Addams. Then one year became two, and soon they added on till he lost count. While he never forgot Persephone, Rhett no longer found himself thinking about her after that first year. On occasion he wondered how she was doing whenever his parents brought the Addams family up. Especially when a new business opened that was attached to their name. “Maybe you should try getting a part-time job at that liquor store over by the tobacco shop, Perry,” Cecilia said one random dinner when Rhett was twenty. It made everyone—minus Amy—stop eating and look at her incredulously.

“That’s the ones owned by the Addams family, ma.”

“I know,” she shrugged, trying not to show any sign of aversion. Rhett looked in between his parents with raised brows, commenting, “thought you didn’t like them, ma.”

Cecilia scoffed at the accusation, though it was obvious there was some bit of truth to it. “It’s not that I don’t like them, Rhett. I just find them….odd, like everyone else in this town. But I do respect and appreciate all they’ve done—like the fact they donate to the schools and the one shelter.”

“Maybe ‘cause no one else is selfless enough to do so,” Rhett muttered under his breath, glaring when Perry kicked him under the table in warning.

That was the last time the Addams family was brought up. Flash forward to 26-year-old Rhett and the thought of Persephone Addams vanished when Maria returned to his life. Something he hoped was permanent, but in reality was a complete and utter failure. Now his niece is staring up with him with puppy eyes, begging to go to an antique store opened by the Addams.

“It opened up while you was in Bozeman,” Amy told him, handing Rhett the utensils when his hand extended for them. “Right beside it is their book store—they’re basically connected and you can enter one and exit the other without going outside.”

“Wow,” Rhett said, putting the last dishes on the rack before washing his hands. “When you start gettin’ interested in antiques?”

Amy gave a small shrug, “Grandma was over at the farmers market and I wondered over there. Saw this cool clock in the window and wanted a closer look. It’s pretty cool—spooky and weird, but cool. And the lady who works there is cool too.”

“Really?” Rhett chuckled at his niece. “Do I know her?” He thought hard at the type of people who often took up the jobs at the Addams businesses. The only one Rhett knew of that the family ran themselves was the funeral home. Other than that, high schoolers took on summer jobs when they were desperate for money or teachers worked the weekends to make a little extra for the month.

“No, I don’t think so. I ain’t seen her round before until that day. She’s pretty and looks about your age—you’d definitely like her, uncle Rhett.” He gave his niece a knowing look, but she just smiled back. “Though, I don’t think the same would be said for her.”

Rhett made a sound of offense, playfully pushing her. “Are you dissing my game, little miss?” Amy giggled, pushing him back. “I’d be careful what you say, otherwise you can find someone else to drive you.” Immediately the girl pouted, which made Rhett chuckle, “I’m just teasin’. Go get your shoes, we’ll leave in five.”

With a squeal, Amy ran out of the kitchen to get her things leaving Rhett to finish cleaning up. Once he was done he gathered his shoes, keys, wallet, and hat before meeting Amy at the door. It was just past noon and the town was not too crowded by the townsfolk with many shopping at the farmers market and stores. Rhett found a spot to park his truck and the two hopped out with the man following behind Amy as she sped to the door of a two story brick building, painted black, that read in iron letters, ‘Les Antiquítes de la Famille Addams,’ beside it was a similar building, only it read, ‘La Biblioteca de Clásicos y Misterios de la Familia Addams.’

“Is that…French and Spanish?” Rhett asked his niece, who already had her hand on the iron door knob.

“Yup,” she emphasized the ‘p’ with a pop. “Now c’mon. I wanna see if they got anythin’ new in since last time I was here.” A jingle sounded above them, indicating to whoever was there that someone was entering the store. Rhett froze after gently closing the door, eyes scanning the scene before him.

It was unlike any antique store Rhett had been in. The color palette was like any business related to the Addams family with a vintage gothic aesthetic to its core. It definitely gave off an eerie feel, but it was beautiful. There was an iron chandelier hanging from the ceiling surrounded by melted floating candles. Clocks made of various metals and materials took up the space of an entire wall above the windows. Shelves stacked the many clear bookcases holding delicate china, porcelain dolls, and games that looked to be straight out of the 1920s. And like most antique stores it was laid out like a maze. Already Rhett had lost sight of his niece.

“Amy?” He gently shouted, careful not to scare anyone who could be lurking. As he took a few steps forward Rhett noticed the large opening to his right which should’ve been a wall but instead led to the conjoining book store. It had the same style and layout it could pass as an extension to the antique store—only it held strictly books.

“Back here!” Her voice called out in the distance. Rhett followed the sound, careful not to bump into anything and possibly destroy the items. The last thing he needed was to spend hundreds on irreplaceable artifacts.

When he found Amy, Rhett was confused to see her perched on a barstool in what appeared to be the back room. Doing a double take, checking to see where the worker was, Rhett peaked his head in, “Uh Ames, what’re you doing back here? This is the back room.”

“I know,” she told him, adjusting her position on the stool. “I’m waiting for Ms. Percy to show me her ring collection.” Something in Rhett’s stomach tightened at the name, “M-Ms. Percy?”

“Yes,” the sultry voice sounded behind him, causing Rhett to spin suddenly only to freeze as those onyx eyes stared back at him. Matching black hair framed her pale face ending at the top of her shoulders. The little bit of baby fat she had in high school had vanished, leaving sharp cheekbones with a grey hue to accentuate the contours of her face. Blood painted her lips, which were parted in a small smile showcasing pearly white teeth that people would spend hundreds on to have.

Rhett was speechless. Not only at the sight of Persephone Addams in front of him—still as captivating as ever—but the fact there was a baby girl perched on her hip. They both wore black, though Persephone’s was leather compared to the baby’s cotton onesie. While the baby had a black bow tied into her mop of black hair, Persephone donned a pillbox hat with lace falling down to cover her forehead and one of her eyes.

The baby, who looked to be not even a year old, was a spitting image of the woman holding her. There was no doubt she was Persephone’s daughter. His eyes betrayed him because immediately Rhett was pitching a glance to her hands, finding no diamond ring nor wedding band. There was only a snake ring looped around her left middle finger, with a black pearl on her right index. Rhett did notice the tattoos that coated her fingers and hands, some even crept up on the visible skin of her neck. Speaking of her neck, it was layered with various silver necklaces—including the letter ‘D’ on one.

“Hello, Rhett,” she snapped him from his daydream, no doubt pink coating his ears at the fact he was caught checking her out. Rhett scratched the back of his neck, becoming more flustered when her eyes flickered up and down—doing the same to him. “How nice to see you after all these years.”

“Persephone,” was all he could say, tipping his hat slightly in greeting. He wasn’t expecting to see the oldest Addams child after nearly a decade. The last time they were 16 and Persephone was covered in red slushie with streaking eyeliner. Now she was a grown woman—a mother as one could assume by the baby on her arm.

“You look good,” she complimented, not missing the way his cheeks flushed. “How long has it been? Ten years, give or take?” The man nodded, causing her to smirk. There was no doubt she knew of the effect she had on him. Although most people crossed the street to avoid Persephone, she always caught the way their eyes lingered. Before a morbid comment could scare them off, their attraction was as obvious as the sky was blue. “Once I left that hellhole that was—oh I shouldn’t call it that,” she sighed, “Hell I would actually enjoy, but you get what I’m saying, right?”

“Uhh—.”

“Did you find it, Ms. Percy?” Amy interrupted the moment, making Rhett turn to give her a slight glare. The girl shrugged with innocence, smiling when Persephone peered behind her uncle.

“Oh yes, darling, I did. Excuse me, Rhett.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping back only to run into the edge of the doorway. Persephone smiled, squeezing past him to get in the room. It was then he noticed a velvet box in her free hand not holding her baby. Persephone placed the box on the desk before stepping around to sit in the vintage leather chair and perching the child in her lap causing her to babble and reach for anything on the table. The sight made Rhett smile.

“Now,” Persephone opened the velvet box to reveal a matching cushion holding an array of different rings. Some had gems, some were made of metals with lucrative designs. Almost all gave signs they were worth a lot of money. Persephone removed a golden one that had a large emerald in the middle surrounded by black diamonds. “This is one of my personal favorites. It belonged to one of the First Lady’s.”

“Woah,” Amy breathed, taking the ring as Persephone handed it to her. “Which First Lady?” Rhett moved closer, leaning against the wall beside the desk. He too was curious to know.

“Wednesday wouldn’t tell me,” she sighed, adjusting the bow on her daughter's head. “It was a gift from her on one of her many grave robbing adventures when we visited Virginia.” Rhett’s eyes widened at how nonchalant Persephone’s words were. His gaze snapped to Amy, who seemed unfazed as she admired the ring before handing it back.

Now he wondered just how many times Amy had interacted with Persephone since she returned. It surprised him the girl didn’t react like most would. And on that note, Rhett had a lot of questions he was curious to know.

“What about that one,” Amy pointed to the dazzling ruby ring on the bottom row. Persephone gave a fond smile, removing it from the cushion.

“This one is a good one. It belonged to Anne Boleyn—second wife of Henry the Eighth. She was executed for treason,” Persephone gave a sad look, though it was more in regards to not being alive to witness the event. “This is one of the rings she was wearing as she knelt on the chopping block.”

‘Jesus Christ,’ Rhett thought, but felt a smile creep up. He didn’t know what it was, but he found the whole situation amusing. There was something about Persephone that was endearing. It drew him in. And although he found some of the things she said odd, he wasn’t as put off by it as everyone else. In fact, he wanted to hear more.

One by one Persephone told the story of each ring—becoming slightly more morbid with each. Finally on the last ring, which was stolen by Puglsey and belonged to a French aristocrat that died in war, Persephone noticed how Amy’s lingered a bit longer on it than the others. “Here,” she said, pulling out a small velvet box from the drawer and placing the ring in it, closing it shut to hand to her, “it’s yours.”

A gasped escaped the girl, “I couldn’t possibly—.”

“I insist.” The box was pushed into Amy’s hand. Rhett stepped forward to protest, but Persephone waved a hand to stop him. “Consider it a gift. Amy has been so kind coming to visit me these past several weeks—even helping me organize or clean when the dust becomes too much. It’s the least I can do to thank her.”

Rhett glanced at Amy, who now had a light blush on her cheeks and was smiling at Persephone in gratitude. “What you say, Amy?”

“Thank you,” she said immediately, holding onto the box like it would disappear. “Thank you so much Ms. Percy. I will make sure nothing happens to it.”

Persephone smirked, “I’ll hold you to that.” The baby then made a sound, resulting in Persephone to adjust her so she was cradled to her chest. A hand gently stroked the baby girl’s back and the cries that were about to start soon went away. “Chut, ma petite épine. Nous serons bientôt à la maison.” ‘Hush, my little thorn. We will be home soon.’ A kiss was placed to her head before Persephone turned back to her guests. “My apologies, she gets a little fussy around this hour.”

“It’s not a problem,” Rhett replied with a soft smile. He nodded to the baby girl who’s eyes were fluttering as sleep started to overtake her. “What’s her name? If you don’t mind me askin’.”

“Desdemona.” So that’s what the ‘D’ on the necklace represented. “Mona for short.”

“That’s a pretty name,” he complimented. Never had he met someone with such a rare name. It was like Persephone. Unique and uncommon to hear in the modern day.

“It’s Greek for ill-fated and unfortunate, you may recognize it from the play ‘Othello’,” Persephone said casually, causing Rhett to be slightly taken aback. He recovered as she added, “Fitting for an Addams, don’t you think? After all, my name means ‘bringer of destruction.’”

Amy tilted her head, “I thought it was about the girl who was kidnapped by Hades.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” the woman winked, causing Amy to giggle. Rhett glanced between them, still blown away by how open his niece was at how strange Persephone was. It gave him pride and joy that she wasn’t like everyone else in Wabang. Judgemental to outcasts. She didn’t write the Addams off because they were different and instead found them intriguing.

“‘fore we leave, Ms. Percy, do you mind if I borrow another book?”

“Oh not at all,” Persephone clutched onto Mona as she stood from the chair. “Be my guest and choose whatever you please. Did you enjoy the one I recommended to you last week?”

Amy gave a short nod, hopping off the stool and giving the ring box to Rhett so he could hold it while she explored. “I preferred ‘Carmilla’ but I see why ‘Dracula’ is so talked about.” With that Amy was off to the opposite end of the building that held the book store, leaving Rhett and Persephone alone. With Mona of course, but she was sound asleep.

“She’s reading classics,” Rhett said with bewilderment. “Willingly.” He wondered if Perry and his parents were aware of Amy’s newfound interests. It was difficult to grasp for Rhett, though it sure as hell impressed him. And he damn well knew his mother would have a fit if she caught her granddaughter reading books like Dracula, Frankenstein, and all things spooky at that young an age.

A soft giggle brought him out of his shock. God even Persephone’s laugh sounded like a melody—like a siren singing her song. It made him feel warmth and the desire to hear it again. Fuck why was he acting like a teenager having a crush agian.

Wait, maybe it was a crush. Oh boy.

“Is it so hard to believe young girls would be interested in such?”

“Well, considerin’ me and everyone in high school hated the lessons on said literature…I’d say so, yes.” Something flashed in her eyes at the mention of high school, her smile turning down a bit, causing Rhett to back track at the memory of her drenched in red slushie, “I’m sorry—uh. I shouldn’t have brought up…”

“Please don’t tiptoe around just to spare me from feeling down and depressed, Rhett. I actually enjoy those emotions. Makes me remember I do have a heart.” She flashed a smile, adjusting her arms to make sure the baby was comfortable. There was a distant look in her eyes, as though she was thinking back to a certain time in her life. Rhett bit his lip, contemplating his next words.

“May I ask ya a question then?”

“Of course. I’m an open book. I’ll answer with honesty, Rhett.”

“What exactly happened and uh, where did ya go?”

“You’re referring to when I put a black widow on Maria’s face?” At Rhett’s nod, where he was trying not to react to the confirming truth, Persephone continued. “Well, as you can expect the sheriff was called and her family was furious. They rushed her to the hospital to receive the antidote to combat the venom,” she made a face, turning away, “so dramatic if I say so—they should know there has not been a fatal bite from a black widow on a human since the eighties. All it did was swell her face, make it red, give her abdominal cramps for a few days. It was a baby spider so it didn’t do too much damage.” Her tone implies it was not a big deal. Again, he should find it weird, but was actually impressed.

After a pause, she sighs and meets his eye, “At the station, they wanted to press charges as one does. But fortunately for me, the video of what Maria and her friends did was all over those social media platforms they were addicted to. You know, the ones where they strive for validation from others. Let’s just say Maria and her family were not on board with the idea of her being charged for animal cruelty and harrasment. Especially to the daughter of the family who is the reason Wabang has money. We promised to drop the charges in exchange for them to do the same.”

‘Fair enough.’ He expected that outcome in all honesty. It would not have been fair for Persephone to be punished while Maria got off. The city relied on the donations of the Addams family too much now that the sheriff wouldn’t dare lose that funding.

“Heard ya got expelled.”

“Oh no,” Rhett’s eyes widened in surprise, curious to know the explanation. “That didn’t happen at all—despite how much Maria and the school wanted it to. She would’ve had to be expelled as well. No, I willingly left Wabang High School and my parents sent me to the academy they went to in Vermont.”

“That’s a long way,” Rhett muttered, but she heard him nonetheless.

“Yes, but it was where I belonged. You probably would not understand. The school was…not for everyone. No offense,” she chuckled at the end causing Rhett to do the same. He wondered what kind of school it had to be that someone like him would not fit in.

“None taken.” For a moment the two just stared at each other, the conversation falling to a silence. Rhett, unsure of what to say, felt warmth spread on his cheeks at the eye contact causing him to look away just as Amy was speeding back into the room, “I got something!”

“Wonderful, darling. What sparked your interest this time?” Amy held up the book that looked withered and dated, reading ‘The Fall of the House of Usher and Other Tales’ by Edgar Allen Poe. Persephone smiled in approval, “A girl after my heart—if you can call it that, of course. Terrific choice, my little Raven.”

“Wasn’t the school you went to named after his poem?” Amy asked, making Rhett look at Persephone with raised brows.

“Why yes. ‘Nevermore’ to be exact. And as you walked the grounds it was as though you were living through the mind of Poe himself.” As she spoke, Rhett’s eyes drifted to the area below her ear that was exposed when Persephone pushed some of her hair back. There were several little black birds tattooed down her neck. How fitting.

“Well, we don’t want to hold ya up,” Rhett spoke when he noticed a customer had entered the shop. He and Persephone locked eyes. “I’ll make sure she gets that book back to ya once she’s done.” It was generous Persephone was letting his niece just take the book free of charge, but Rhett saw how dated it was and assumed it was no doubt an original copy. Actually almost all of the books in the store appeared to be original copies. Surely worth a lot of money.

The woman waved a hand, “There is no rush at all. She may take as long as she pleases.” Together they all walked to the door, Amy thanking Persephone again for the ring and book before rushing to the truck to wait for her uncle. Rhett stayed behind for a moment and when he faced Persephone he was nearly frozen by how beautiful she looked when the sunlight hit her. It threw him off, making him forget what he was about to say.

“Are you alright, Rhett?”

“Uh-yeah-yeah,” he coughed into his hand. “Sorry. I just uh—,” cursing in his head, Rhett tried to man up and say the words he’d been wanting to ask for the past twenty minutes. Usually he had little to no trouble picking up women like the occasional buckle bunny after the rodeo to fuck out the adrenaline he was feeling. He’d go on a date every now and then though it led to nothing. And he was okay with that.

But after Maria everything changed, he was scared to open his heart up again to someone.

Now, standing in front of Persephone Addams, his brain was screaming at him. There was always a small part of him that admired her from afar in high school. A tiny crush that was overshadowed by the one on Maria. Rhett regretted nothing more now than the fact he was so stupid to let his teenage hormonal self desire a girl who cared about no one but herself half the time. When there was someone like Persephone right there.

Finally he mentally kicked himself and manned up. The worst she could do was reject him. Not like he hadn’t experienced that before. Removing his hat, Rhett scrunched his nose and leaned forward, “Would you—would you maybe wanna grab some coffee some time? If you’re available, of course. But if-if you have someone I completely understand.”

He watched as his heart pounded as Peresephone’s lips curled up in a genuine smile. “There is no one.” He internally sighed in relief. She nodded down to Mona, “Her father is not in the picture. Hasn’t been since I was six months pregnant.” That made Rhett frown, upset at the fact she was left alone in her pregnancy and birth of her daughter.

“I’m sorry to hear.”

“Don’t be. He cheated and is now in prison.”

Rhett made an ‘o’ shape with his mouth. “Wow. That’s um…unfortunate.”

Persephone glanced over her shoulder to make sure the customer was nowhere in sight before leaning closer. “Wednesday is one to hold a grudge. I told her she had free reign to ruin his life however she pleased.” She scrunched her nose adding, “Probably should have laid down some ground rules. Having attempted murder on your record is not an accomplishment to some…compared to our family.”

‘Well shit,’ Rhett thought. He could only imagine what the teenager did. And judging by the obvious hint from Persephone, it involved framing someone for attempted murder. What should have had Rhett running away, instead it had him think, ‘Note to self: do not fuck this up.’

“I’ll be sure to not get on her bad side then,” Rhett said, noticing a flash of surprise to take over her expression. It was as though she couldn't believe he still wanted to pursue her. After all, she did just admit her 15-year-old sister put her ex in jail for simply cheating on her. Rhett smirked, “Was that some kind of a warning, I take it?”

Now she mirrored his smirk, liking what he said, “More like a test. You passed.” Rhett placed his hat back on his head, tipping it slightly, “Glad to hear.”

The sound of a bell ringing drew both of their attention, finding the customer: an older lady holding a vintage tea set. Persephone offered a friendly smile, “I will be with you just a moment, ma’am.” She then faces Rhett, “I don’t open the shop until eleven tomorrow and I close at around five. I can meet you either in the morning or afternoon for coffee if you’d like.”

“Tomorrow mornin’ is perfect,” he told her, trying to control the joy he was feeling. “How nine-thirty sound?”

“I’ll be there,” she winked, reaching around him to grab a business card. It had her name, home & cell number, email, and names of the shops on it. “Forgive me if I do not answer you right away if you try to reach me. I am not a fan of technology, but for the sake of family businesses I do my best. I’ll keep my cell phone close by for you.”

Rhett ran his eyes over the information, laughing softly at her and ignoring the butterflies he felt by her last statement. He puts the card in his pocket, “It’s no problem, Persephone. Thank you though.”

“Please, call me Percy.”

Rhett smiles, “Well, Percy, I’ll leave ya to it then.” He tips his hat, “see ya tomorrow.”

“Adiós, vaquero.” ‘Goodbye, cowboy.’ As Rhett exited the store, the bells echoing behind him, he stopped to peer through the window to get one last glance at Persephone Addams. Her back was turned to him, walking to the register to greet the customer where she gently places Mona in a black vintage bassinet. Rhett knew it probably looked weird to passerbyers that he was standing in front of the store, with a dazed look in his eyes as he watched Persephone ring up the lady and carefully wrap the tea set in packaging.

Her lips were moving, but Rhett couldn’t hear what she was saying, only that he was captivated by how she moved and the passion in her eyes as she was no doubt explaining the history of the tea set. Quickly shaking his head, biting back the grin trying to escape, Rhett hurried to his truck before he was caught. When he got in, he was faced with a knowing look from his niece.

“Did ya ask her out?”

“Maybe,” he quipped, buckling his seatbelt before starting the engine. Amy rolled her eyes, but behind them he could tell she looked happy he did in fact make a move.

“Please don’t mess it up, uncle Rhett. I really like Ms. Percy. She’s so nice and lets me ask questions people say I shouldn’t ask. She doesn’t care what people think of her and teaches me things no one else in school or at home does. So please,” her tone becomes serious, causing Rhett to turn his head when they get to a stop sign so she has his full attention. “Don’t play her heart. Or I’ll take her side for whatever she ends up doing as payback.”

‘You don’t gotta tell me twice, Ames.’ There was no way in hell he was going to mess up his chance with Persephone. Not when she actually was open to giving him one after she probably blamed him for what Maria did.

He ends up saying with determination, “I won’t mess it up with her, Amy. I promise.”

Three ½ Years Later

It was a gloomy, rainy day in Jericho, Vermont. Grey colored the sky, ravens chipped in the distance. A truly miserable day.

Perfect for Nevermore Academy’s graduation ceremony.

“Mi amor, do you know where Mona misplaced her teddy?” Persephone was rummaging through her bag that was placed on the seat of the car while she stood outside. Rhett was holding the umbrella above to protect her from the rain in one hand with four-year-old Mona perched on his hip with the other.

“Not sure, darling. Last I saw it was in the hotel room,” When she bent over to get a closer look inside the car, Rhett couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to her ass. Which looked amazing in the tight black dress she was wearing. “Careful, Percy,” he warned when she leaned forward, noticing her baby bump press against the seat.

She was roughly five months into the pregnancy. Just shortly after celebrating their three year anniversary, in which Rhett had got down on one knee and presented a black diamond ring with the promise to love Persephone even after death, she endured a vision showing her holding a baby boy beside him. “I think I might be carrying your son, Rhett,” she gasped as she awoke in his arms. Whenever the visions came Rhett stayed beside her until they ended. The second the words left her mouth he was pulling her to the nearest pharmacy to get a test. The man just about cried when the two little lines appeared on the strip.

Cursing, she moved away and smoothed out the fabric of her dress. Clasping the buckle of her purse, Persephone pulled on her coat and threw the bag over her arm before shutting the door. “Thankfully I have her other toy to keep her distracted.” Lurch locked the car, following behind the couple as they approached the grounds of the school where the ceremony was held.

The rest of the family had already gone in to meet with Wednesday and the ceremony was planned for when night took over. So when they entered the courtyard where everyone had gathered, Mona was already squirming in Rhett’s arms and reaching for her aunt who she spotted first. The rain had settled to a light drizzle, so Rhett set her down when they were only a few feet away, letting the child run and wrap her tiny arms around Wednesday’s legs.

The teen didn’t look happy—then again she never did, but behind that cold, stoic, stare, there was a glimpse of affection. “Desdemona, you foul creature, you should know better than to embrace me with physical contact.” Her words were returned with giggles from the girl. Nonetheless, Wednesday patted the top of her head and gently pushed her back to her parents. The teen clasped her hands, looking up to her sister and soon to be brother-in-law, “I was not expecting you to come in your condition, sister.”

“I would not have missed this for the world,” Persephone grinned, holding Mona to her side as she nuzzled into her coat. “It’s not everyday my little sister graduates school—though I must say, Wednesday, it truly is a surprise.” To anyone else the words would have stung, but for Wednesday Addams, it was a compliment.

“Glad to know my reputation still holds,” the teens eyes flicker to the ring on her sister’s left hand before moving the gaze to Rhett. After years of dating Persephone, he had become a pro at handling Wednesday deadpan stare. It no longer fazed him unlike his family, who still had trouble being in the same room as her. Amy was the only one who didn’t feel creeped out by it. “And that you were true to your words.”

Persephone turned to Rhett, curiosity in her eyes. “What does she mean, Rhett?” There was a light blush to his cheeks as he replied, “When I asked you parents for your hand, I also asked your siblings.” Immediately her face softened, “oh, mi amor,” she reached up to kiss the corner of her lips before actually kissing him, aware of Wednesday’s glare.

“My one request is that you two refrain from acting like mother and father tonight for the sake of my sanity.” Persephone chuckled, pulling away from Rhett who was also smiling as he fixed his black Stetson. She made a gesture of crossing her heart, which only made her sister roll her eyes and stalk away to find Bianca and Enid.

“I’m curious to know how that conversation went?” Persephone teased, reaching up to adjust Rhett’s bolo tie. Mona sped over to her uncle and grandparents who were speaking with Enid’s family, leaving the couple alone in the corner of the courtyard.

“Surprisingly, not bad. Of course she threatened to do worse than frame me for murder if I fucked up. I believe her exact words were, ‘There’s already a plot in the family graveyard with your name on it. I’ll look forward to filling it.’” Persephone shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. Rhett leaned down to kiss her softly, “But that’s not gonna be filled till I’m old and gray and you can barely stand to look at me.”

Persephone pulled him close, arms going around his neck while he placed his hands on her waist. She could feel his thumbs rub the sides of her bump. “I’ll still always have my eyes on you, Rhett Abbott. You could never repulse me. Even when you start looking like a corpse.”

He threw his head back in laughter, Persephone giggling with him. Calming down, he tightened his arms around her, careful of the bump where their son was growing and stared into the onyx eyes he adored. “I love you, Persephone Addams. Thank you for giving me the honor of having your heart and being a part of this family.”

She kissed him with all her might, pouring her love and soul so he could feel it for all of eternity. “Te amo mucho más, mi querido vaquero.” ‘I love you so much more, my darling cowboy.’

[joannanora]

First review I’ve seen in Norwegian so I copied the text in Google translate 😄

You really have to love Céline Dion to put up with this trash.

IN THEATER MAY 12, 2023: I have absolutely nothing against romantic comedies, as long as they are genuinely fresh, sweet and funny.

"Love Again" is neither, but leans on tired clichés, chemistry-less leads and a silly story that will cause frequent rolling of the eyes.

In addition, it cultivates Céline Dion, the Canadian superstar who both plays herself and is one of the film's producers. If you are one of Dion's followers, and are deeply moved by her songs and lyrics, it can be thought that "Love Again" has its mission, because it is shaped by the same reading.

If, on the other hand, you find her music intolerable, this will feel like torture, because the film is like a Greatest Hits cavalcade of it. She even mentions the Eurovision Song Contest, which she won for Switzerland in 1988, which perhaps explains the film's strategic release date the day before this year's final?

"Love Again" has no ironic distance from either the genre or the music, and maintains such a low quality that it is difficult to see what this has to do with cinema. You really have to love Céline Dion to put up with this moth.

Sending text messages to deceased boyfriend

The premise of the story could have been used for something halfway interesting. The children's book author Mira (Priyanka Chopra Jonas) witnesses the death of her boyfriend John on the streets of New York - in a scene with a comically bad presentation of the shock.

Two years later, she starts texting him in an attempt to process her grief and loss. Little does she know that everything is being read by music journalist Rob (Sam Heughan), who has unknowingly taken over John's old number on his new work phone at The New York Chronicle newspaper.

He does not respond to these messages, but becomes obsessed with finding out who the mysterious sender really is. But he doesn't think to look up the number or call it from another phone. Not much for a journalist, that is.

That their paths nevertheless cross is hardly a revelation, but he remains silent about having received and read the messages, which according to the recipe creates the conditions for a small twist in the thread.

At the same time, he has been tasked with writing a large article about Céline Dion, who will embark on her first US tour in 10 years. And then, incredibly, it will turn out that she would much rather help the journalist with his private love life than promote herself, which seriously lowers the film's credibility into the deepest abyss.

Stiff-legged romance and predictable complications

The best thing I can say about "Love Again" is that it is filmed with beautiful people in an urban setting.

Indian Priyanka Chopra Jonas ("Quantico", "Baywatch", "Citadel") and Scottish Sam Heughan ("Outlander", "The Spy Who Dumped Me", "Bloodshot") seem like sympathetic actors.

Unfortunately, they have little chemistry and are unable to play their way out of the script's horribly stiff romance, which is as unconvincing as the thinnest and assembly line-produced weekly short story.

Director Jim Strouse ("The Incredible Jessica James") is also behind the script, or was it written by ChatGPT? It has so many generic "qualities" that one can be fooled.

He throws his characters into several predictable entanglements that could have been playfully prevented, so that the artificial moments of tension maintain a very low temperature.

The scene that gets the most chuckles (which means "a little") is a Tinder date where Priyanka Chopra Jonas as Mira meets the sleazy hottie Joel, because he is played by her real-life husband Nick Jonas.

Smeared with sugar and syrup

And then there's Céline Dion, then. You have to respect what she has achieved in her genre, but she is definitely not a good actress.

Even when she speaks seemingly candidly about missing her great love, the manager René Angélil, who died in 2016, it seems as flat and fake as her unnatural interest in the music journalist's private life.

At one point, she also gives Mira, who is a writer and illustrator of cute children's books, the task of designing her new tour posters. Hello? In what world would we have believed this? We never get to see the result, but are left with the impression that the film's raison d'etre is to promote Dion's generosity and warmth of heart.

Sure, I know this is supposed to be a romantic fantasy, which doesn't necessarily have to follow normal standards of quality, but gods know why Dion thought this would be career-boosting.

Devoted fans, excuse me, but "Love Again" is like the most excruciating, sugar and syrup-smeared 1980s power ballad imaginable, only it lasts 1 hour and 44 minutes.

One star might seem a bit harsh, but if the entire grading scale is ever to be used, it must be for films like this.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The Loudest Pundits Don't Talk to Voters. I do...

Jess Piper

Jul 6

Tysons, Virginia.

I was invited to speak at a summit just outside of DC, and just got back a week ago. The Women’s Summit is a large annual conference hosted in part by Network Nova. I have to tell you something: the message from rural America never fails to captivate an audience. Especially an audience filled with activists in a solidly Democratic city and region.

But I am not writing to tell you what I spoke about. I am writing to tell you what I heard when I listened to the voters and activists in the room.

What you’ll hear me say is not at all what the pundits are saying about Biden after the disastrous debate. It is the opposite of the narrative being furiously flung at us each day by everyone from MSNBC to CNN to the New York Times to the nightly news to opinion pieces across the country.

I speak to actual people…the pundits feed off each other. I work with grassroots organizers to spread Democratic messaging…the pundits write clickbait headlines and stoke fear.

The debate.

First of all, I did not watch but a few minutes of the debate live. I chose to watch it in clips and videos afterward. I was horrified. I felt like I was watching a trainwreck in slow motion. Biden performed terribly and Trump lied continuously.

Honestly, I wish Biden had never accepted the debate premise because it’s pointless to debate a liar. It just gives Trump the runway to lie even more, and without pushback from the moderators, the debate went nowhere.

The voters and activists I listened to in Virginia weren’t wondering if Biden should step aside and none of them were kidding themselves about what they witnessed during the debate. They are solidly behind the Biden administration. Solidly.

The summit in Virginia was diverse. Hundreds of women gathered and many were Black women. I like to hear the viewpoints of folks who are neither rural nor white — I am not in enough diverse rooms. I get a different POV and that’s important. What I heard was real and heartfelt. They are behind Biden.

I listened as several Black women spoke about their admiration for Gavin Newsom and Gretchen Whitmer, but how pundits holding them up as replacements for Joe Biden is condescending and irritating. Joe Biden has a Vice President. A Black woman — Kamala Harris. The women wondered aloud if there would be such a push to replace Biden on the ballot if his VP were not Black.

Same.

They wondered why journalists and politicos demand that Biden step down, but not Trump. They wondered why so many articles are being written about Biden’s age and fitness, but not the same about Trump. They wondered why Democratic strategists are making voters fearful instead of leading with a steady hand. They wondered why Biden is taking all the hits while a felon with a rape conviction, his opponent, is not even addressed.

Same.

The biggest takeaway from the folks outside DC is they are angry that the “same shit” that happened in 2016 is rearing its head again. Several stated they are tired of the line “The DNC chose Biden.” They reminded me that primary voters picked him…Black voters picked him. They are sick of repeating it.

These voters and activists did not waver when they repeated over and over again that they have no hesitation in voting for Biden in November.

From that group of over 600 suburban folks to a group of about 20 rural Dems…

You know I am rural and I often speak in rural spaces. Most of these spaces are older and White. When I listen to voters in these spaces, they have zero doubt about who their candidate is…even after the debate. Do they doubt that it was an awful showing? They do not. They watched it with their own eyes. Do they wish Biden performed better? Seemed younger? Spoke more clearly and concisely? Yes. Will they still vote for him? Also yes.

Not one rural person I’ve spoken with wants to remove Biden from the ballot in favor of another candidate. They believe in the administration and they are fearful of another Trump presidency. They think Biden can beat Trump.

This is what rural voters have told me: Biden has been good for ordinary people. He’s worked for public schools and the LGBTQ community and student loan forgiveness and infrastructure and rural broadband. They’ve seen highway projects funded. They remember that Biden curbed COVID deaths and consistently pushes for union jobs. They know he will not sign away reproductive rights.

Listen, I am not paid by the DNC and I don’t earn a dime from my state party. I am a Democrat because the party aligns with most of my views, but I am not a party first person…I am a country first person. I can see with my own eyes what the Republicans are about and I already know what a Trump presidency will bring. We all know what it will mean.

I will never forget the maxim: Democrats fall in love. Republicans fall in line. I know many of us are not in love, but can we come together to beat a certain autocrat? To overcome the fascism and Christian nationalism creeping in?

I was as scared as any of us after the debate. I had a feeling of doom bearing down on me. After talking to so many voters since, even after reading so many terribly divisive pieces, I feel more calm. The voters I’ve listened to are not doing what the pundits claim they are doing. They have said that replacing Biden on the ticket will almost certainly divide the party. They have faith in the Biden administration. They have faith in his VP.

I am tired of pundits creating a narrative that I don’t see in real life. I don’t know why they do it? For clout? For clicks?

I hate that each of us is exposed to the fear every single day. I hate that many in the media are driving a wedge between Democrats with this incessant message of doom and gloom and the need for a new nominee.

I have no crystal ball, but I do have neighbors and friends and I know organizers across the country. I hope we can make it through this with a nominee intact and a win in November. I hope we can listen to our neighbors and mute the pundit-class.

Our country can’t manage another Trump presidency.

~Jess

[you-remind-me-of-the-babe]

I’ve never done my own fic rec post before but I’m feeling inspired seeing more and more people do this. Also, I’m so slow and usually weeks behind what everyone else is reading but I’ve read some new stuff recently so let’s go!

We Still Bloom Complete, 18k, Rated T by @artsyunderstudy

I am a sucker for Hanahaki fics (the angst! The pain! The perceived unrequited love! The ticking clock!) and this one does not disappoint. Set within those awful doubting weeks of WS/AWTWB and sprinkled with plenty of past memories and present action, this author really lets you sit with that sorrow and uncertainty. Plus FANTASTIC art! What more could you want?

The Beautiful Game WIP, currently 8k, Rated T by @fatalfangirl

This fic is composed of anecdotes of Simon and Baz playing football over the years but football is merely a lens to view the progression of their relationship. It’s canon compliant and fits so seamlessly with the events surrounding it. The WS chapter, for example, packs a punch in a few hundred words. It will have you sobbing, squealing, sighing and laughing as the chapters take you through the best (and worst) of their relationship. But through it all they have football. Need I say more?

This Is Your Place, Complete, 19k, Rated M by @cutestkilla This fic was written for @carryonprompts fest (along with the two above!) and answered the question: how would things have differed if Baz came back to his room after the Open sesame incident to find Simon, tits out, bloody and without his cross? This author took the prompt in a a sexy but also tender and angsty direction. A lovely get together written by a very talented writer.

Speaking of, I’m gonna jump back to @cutestkilla’s first fic because she just posted this great meta about what informed her version of the Humdrum from canon, which got me thinking about how What’s Left is still one of my favorite fics of all time so if you haven’t read this fic about what if Simon really died in the White Chapel and the Humdrum (Sid, my beloved) was left, how might he and Baz take on the Mage? It’s so creative, funny, sweet and heartfelt and (despite the way the premise sounds) will leave you fulfilled in a way you never knew you needed to be.

Ready or Not WIP, currently 5k, Rated E by @bookish-bogwitch

Another Carry On Prompts Fest fic that I am OBSESSED with. It’s a Watford era magickal mishap (my fave, it should be a proper tag!) in which Simon accidentally spells Baz to spontaneously orgasm without warning several times a day. This story is both hilarious and so sexy and the end of chapter 1 leaves us with a delightful twist. I can’t wait to see what happens next!

Stress Management WIP currently 22k, rated M by @whogaveyoupermission

Normal AU, later in life get together in which social worker!Simon tried to manage his stress by attending a barre class taught by none other than his former classmate Baz. This fic is so sweet and sexy you will be screeching for them to get together by the end of the first chapter. And yet this author is building their mutual pining so, so well. Bonus content includes Baz in all sorts of sexy barre instructor outfits that you won’t want to miss!

Phew! If your like me, and have a to be read list a mile long and you don’t know what to start with, do yourself a favor and check out any of these gems that sound interesting. I promise, they will not disappoint! Thank you for the tags today @martsonmars @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @cutestkilla @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @larkral @bookish-bogwitch @nightimedreamersworld @whogaveyoupermission @johnwgrey @confused-bi-queer @artsyunderstudy @palimpsessed @moodandmist @creepyspice @ivelovedhimthroughworse y’all are working on some fantastic stuff!

Tagging a few more people in case you want to spread the word on these awesome fics or share some words (or recs!) of your own @whatevertheweather @captain-aralias @takitalks @toonysart @messofthejess @ionlydrinkhotwater @aristocratic-otter @prettylightsbigcity @castawaypitch @yeonjunenby @erzbethluna @hushed-chorus @stardustasincocaine @frjsti @toonysart @forabeatofadrum @raenestee @yellobb @bazzybelle @gekkoinapeartree @ic3-que3n @tea-brigade

Also, if you’ve read this far and want to check out chapter 4 of Depth of Reason, it’s out now, with more lovely art by @toonysart

[art-of-manliness]

5 Lessons From the Iron

Back in 2015, I started weightlifting seriously.  Over eight years of training, I was able to get strong. But more importantly, I discovered a hobby that brought me immense satisfaction.  While I don’t barbell train like I used to, I still religiously lift weights.  During my eight years of serious training, I’ve learned some important life lessons from the iron.  Below, I share five of them. 1. Success Comes From a Long Obedience in the Same Direction When people decide to get serious with exercise, they tend to focus on the minutiae of their new regimen. People spend a lot of time looking for the right program and the right equipment. They think they’ll see incredible gains if they find the optimal set and rep range.  But there’s something just as, if not more important, than the training program you choose: Being consistent with it for months and even years.  How did I deadlift 600 pounds? I trained consistently for six years. Sure, my programming changed during that time, but the thing that didn’t change was me going down to my garage four times a week to train.  The necessity of consistency applies to every other endeavor in life.  I’ve used the consistency principle to lose 30 pounds this year. I didn’t do any crash dieting. I just gradually reduced my calories and stuck to my macro target almost every day for eight months. That’s it.  When people ask me for advice about their online business, they often ask me about the tools and tricks Kate and I use that helped us get AoM to where it is today.  Keeping up with the latest trends in technology, marketing, and social media hasn’t been nearly as important as simply sticking to our publishing schedule; for coming up on sixteen years now, we’ve published several pieces of content nearly every single week. AoM isn’t slick, flashy, or even particularly cool, but it is consistent.  As Nietzsche put it, “everything of the nature of freedom, elegance, boldness . . . and masterly certainty”; everything to do with “virtue, art, music, dancing, reason, spirituality”; everything “that is transfiguring,” that makes “life worth living,” is premised on one thing: A “long obedience in the same direction.” The trick is figuring out ways to stay consistent over the long haul.  When it comes to exercising, we’ve written about how to work out while you’re on vacation, sick, or simply don’t feel like it. There’s plenty of good advice there, and I think it carries over to other parts of life, too.  But the real secret for staying consistent over the long haul is that . . . 2. You Got to Have Ganas Ganas is Spanish for desire.  I’ve written about the centrality of ganas in finding success in whatever you do. Most of the things I’ve achieved in life were because I really wanted to accomplish those things. I had ganas for those goals. A big reason I was able to deadlift 600 pounds is that I really, really wanted to deadlift 600 lbs. That strong desire was what compelled me to rarely miss a workout for four years. My coach could give me programming and offer corrections on technique, but he couldn’t make me want to go after a 600-lb deadlift. I had to have the desire myself. Discipline is really harped on these days as the key to success.  Discipline is one way to achieve the consistency that’s essential to reaching your goals.  But constantly exercising self-control is exhausting.  A better way to stay consistent is to operate with inherent motivation — to enjoy the thing you’re doing so that you want to do the thing that will lead to success.  What William George Jordan said about duty applies to discipline as well: Duty is a hard, mechanical process for making men do things that love would make easy. It is a poor understudy to love. It is not a high enough motive with which to inspire humanity. Duty is the body to which love is the soul. Love, in the divine alchemy of life, transmutes all duties into privileges, all responsibilities into joys. I loved going for big PRs, which is why I could be… http://dlvr.it/T0301h

[codename-mom]

In name of Spencer

Summary: Post-S08E12. Maeve has been killed and Spencer is at his lowest. Hotch wants to cheer up the youngest member of his team, but the task is not easy, even more when his superior search for explanation

Characters: David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner, Derek Morgan, JJ, Alex Blake + Erin Strauss

Contents: this text is part of no challenge. I just wanted to write something about how Hotch deals with Reid's pain.

TW: mention of what's happened during Zugzwang episode, and pain, grief, etc.

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

“Did you call me?” inquired Dave, on the threshold of the next office.

Aaron looked up from his screen immediately.

“Yes. Did you know that starfishes have eyes at the end of their arms?”

“What?” gasped the BAU co-founder, completely baffled by this strange question.

“Did you know or not?” insisted his cadet, nervously.

“Yes. I’ve already been to the aquarium.”

“Darn! It means he knows it too.”

Disappointed, the giant turned his attention back to his computer and wondered what new query he could put into his search engine. For his part, his opposite squinted, puzzled. When he had seen his supervisor's e-mail, he had expected to answer a few interrogations about a past or current investigation, not to be tested on his knowledge of marine biology.

“… What are you up to?” he asked logically.

“I’m trying to find a fact that Reid doesn’t know.”

“Good luck. Why?”

Hotch sighed and pushed away his keyboard. Empty-headed, he had no idea how to continue the quest he had been on for several days. But maybe his mentor could give him some inspiration.

“Because… After Haley's death, Spencer would regularly send me messages about all kinds of incredible things that, of course, I didn’t know, he confessed, dodging his interlocutor's gaze. He did it not to show off, but to divert my attention.”

“And you'd like to return the favor by diverting his.”

“Beth thinks it might be a good idea.”

“And I agree with her.”

It had now been just over a week since the tragedy, and Aaron's youngest subordinate was bearing the full brunt of the consequences. Holed up at home, he didn't answer calls or messages sent to him, just as he ignored people knocking on his door. Guided by his instinct, the agency manager knew he was still alive, but imagined him curled up in an armchair, staring into space, or dragging his feet limply from one room to another, tears rolling down his unshaven cheeks. He himself didn't expect any response from him to this potential anecdote, content with the simple fact that it may have eased the young man's pain for a time.

“The thing is that I can't find anything that lives up to the fact that the northern lights are the sun's spittoons.”

“What?”

“That's it in a nutshell, but that's about it. He had written this message with a link to a very interesting video on the origin of the northern lights. We watched it together, Jack and I.”

He still remembered the moment of confusion that had seized him when he had read the SMS with this premise. Then, his curiosity piqued despite the vice that was crushing his insides at the time, he clicked on the link. And for a little less than a quarter of an hour, he had forgotten the pain that haunted him from morning to night, fascinated by this impromptu talk. He then showed it to his son, who couldn't miss a bit of it, his eyes wide at the discovery. Thirteen minutes and twenty-two seconds seemed like a drop in the ocean compared to a lifetime; but in this context, it had represented a point of light in the darkness that was devouring him. A star in the night that had relieved him. And there had been plenty more after that one, which, he was sure, had kept him from getting lost in the dark. If only he could do the same for Reid…

“And how many years do you think it will take you to find it?” ironized his guest, who would certainly never have embarked on such an ambitious project.

“I can’t say. For now, I’m searching and asking people if they know.”

“And?”

“And then, not only do I not find it, but I look like an idiot.”

The novelist burst into laughter. Aaron frowned.

“It’s not funny, Dave, he scolded, annoyed. This kid is at the bottom of the abyss, and I've got nothing to help him get back up.”

Rossi raised his hands to temper his anger and, still smiling, came to sit on the chair opposite him.

“Have you thought about what he doesn't know?”

“He knows everything.”

That’s where the issue was. The young agent had several doctorates in his pocket, plus everything he'd read since he'd learned to do it. For a thirty-year-old with a passion for reading and for discovering new things, this meant that he had a wealth of wisdom that was hard to fault.

“Everyone has an Achilles heel, even him.”

“I only know one, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not the right time to talk about it.”

Formidably intelligent but completely inept in terms of social relations, Reid's love life could be compared to a very long desert crossing. In fact, his knowledge of hanks was limited to theoretical principles and all the possible deviations he had picked up in his criminology lessons. The boy was a blank page in this field who had come very close to be covered by his first story.

“… What about cooking? Bounced Dave. He doesn’t strike me as a cookery specialist.”

“True. But he’ll know that it’ll come from you. I’m not a cook myself.”

Far from it. Besides, the longer he stayed away from stoves and knives, the better it was for those around him. Unlike Rossi, who was a born chef and whose dishes delighted the agents' taste buds.

“Does it really matter where the tips comes from? After all, you don't seem to be a starfish specialist either.”

The BAU’s eldest scored a point. Spencer had surely told him things he'd learned on his own during his young life, instead of, like him, seeking information on subjects that were ultimately of little interest to him. Which didn’t do his business any favors.

“… I’ll ask the others, he announced after a sigh. They must know more than I do about what he's not good at.”

Although often on the road with his team, his subordinates were nevertheless closer to each other than he was to them. And they had all more or less taken the youngest of the gang under their wing, helping him gradually to emerge from his cocoon. Leaving his chair, Aaron made his way to the bull-pen area where Morgan, JJ and Blake were chatting over a cup of coffee. They stiffened as he lunged in their direction, but relaxed when he explained what he expected of them. The trio immediately began to think.

“Surprisingly, he's lacking in popular cinema, declared the ex-liaison officer. Or in literature for teenagers.”

“Why?” her superior raised an eyebrow, not seeing what she was referring to.

“He doesn’t know who Edward Cullen is.”

It took Hotch a few seconds to put his finger on the vaguely familiar name. The image of a sallow, unkempt teenager popped into his mind, along with all the criticisms he'd heard about the cinematic work that concerned him.

“I'd like to say it's not a big loss, he commented, raising his eyebrows, but it's mostly that he's not going to be interested in it at all. The idea is to bait him into doing further research and get him thinking about something else.”

“Sure, it's not a good idea to burden his mind with a vampire who looks like a disco ball,” agreed Derek, half-seriously.

Putting aside all thoughts of novels for young readers and their big-screen adaptations, the group fell into silence. It had to be said that the task was an arduous one, but everyone was motivated to help their colleague out of his slump.

“There's also video games, which I'm obviously better at than he is,” Dave remarked with a certain pride.

Despite his attraction to popular culture, particularly in terms of films and TV shows, Reid stayed far away from anything that resembled modern technology: computers, cell phones and games consoles. In contrast, the eldest of the BAU enjoyed his free time with controller in hand, challenging anyone who wanted to try his luck. Jack, the unit's oldest child, had already had the opportunity to confront him on several occasions, with varying degrees of success.

“I don't want to underline his ignorance either. We have to cheer him up, not shoot him in his back.”

“But we could encourage him to join an online game, with Emily for example,” suggested JJ, who had kept in touch with the current head of Interpol's London agency via Internet Scrabble games during her French run from Doyle.

“Hotchner!” suddenly exclaimed a voice from behind.

He didn't even flinch, but he didn't turn around either. Instead, he remained in position and continued:

“She’ll ask him questions and he’ll be embarrassed to answer them. She should be briefed beforehand.”

“Agent Hotchner! Are you deaf?”

Furious, Erin, who had just emerged from the elevator, circled around his imposing frame to plant herself right under his nose, forcing him to stop ignoring her.

“Chief Strauss, I didn't hear you come in,” said Aaron, in an even tone.

“Don’t push your luck, she scolded, wrinkling her eyelids. In my office.

“With all my due respect, I’ve got work to do.”

“Me too, she snapped, snarling. In. My. Office.”

Without waiting for an answer from him, she went back the way she came and frantically pressed the call button. Hotch, who suspected the reason for her anger but had no desire to discuss it, took a deep breath and followed in her footsteps, not without slipping a final instruction to his men:

“… Keep thinking.”

Without exchanging a single word, the two managers made their way upstairs to a large, dark-tinted office. Strauss took her seat and indicated the chair opposite her with a wave of her hand. Aaron settled down slowly, raised his head and, in the most innocent tone possible, said:

“Is there a problem?”

“Yes, you could say that, squeaked the section chief, her clear eyes focused on him. Why did you grant Agent Reid unlimited leave?”

“Dr. Reid.”

“I beg your pardon?” she retorted, caught off guard by this outburst.

“Spencer Reid has five doctorates.”

“He’s an FBI employee.”

“He prefers to be called that way.”

The woman in her fifties gave him a disillusioned look. The two agents hated each other cordially and did everything in their power to make each other's lives miserable at most. Hotch, who had less power than his interlocutor, played the groping more than necessary simply to destabilize her. He wasn't unaware of how important these diplomas were to Spencer, but as it stood, they weren't the reason for this summit call. Erin pouted, supporting the fixed irises of her unruly staff member, then sighed:

“Fine. Why this unlimited leave?”

“Because I’m more generous than you are.”

“What?” she reacted, outraged by this ill-timed attack.

“He has just lost someone very dear to him. His girlfriend, to be more precise.”

Strauss widened her eyelids in surprise, then frowned. Her thoughts became confused for a few moments. Should she put him in his place for his unfair reflection on the number of days off she'd given him after his ex-wife's death? She had followed protocol and offered him early retirement so that he could devote his full attention to his son. But he refused her offer and returned to his post once the time had elapsed, without making any further demands. For her, this meant that he hadn't needed much more to assimilate what had happened and reorganize his new life. And, on the other hand, this story of a girlfriend for the BAU’s youngest agent intrigued her.

“When?”

“Saturday.”

“What’s happened?”

“I don’t know the details.”

“Really?” she doubted, trying to break through the stoic mask the director was presenting to her.

“I respect my men’s private life.”

Hotch saw his superior’s jaws tighten. She didn't believe for a moment what he’d said but knew that raising her voice would lead to nothing but even higher barriers between him and her. If she wanted to get at the truth, she was going to have to play it smart.

“Good. Then explain to me why your technical analyst's computers were activated on Saturday, as were your business phones and car GPS units.”

“… Another team may have used them,” suggested Aaron after a minute’s thought.

“I received an invoice from the SWAT to your name.”

“I’ve lost my apartment keys.”

A wave of fury overwhelmed the tenant's good intentions.

“Hotch! Don’t take me for an idiot! What have you been up to again?”

“Why?” he asked coldly.

“What do you mean by ‘why?’? I end up with a weekend crew using FBI equipment and an agent on leave until 2099. I demand an explanation!”

“I couldn’t go any further.”

“What...? She hiccupped before understanding what he had meant. Aaron, pissing me off won't make this conversation any more pleasant. What did you do?”

“What are you planning to do?”

Determined not to give up any information until he was certain that nothing would happen to his team, the giant walled himself up in the smoothest possible attitude, leaving his adversary of the day nothing to hang on to. Strauss knew this behavior all too well, and it irritated her to no end. Blowing out a breath to soothe her irritation, she changed her tune.

“… Look, I understand that you're trying to protect your men, but the Committee is demanding explanations, and at this time I can't give them any.”

“I can talk to them.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

“It won’t be a first.”

“Yes, and they don't have very fond memories of your unit.”

In order to justify the outrageous expenses incurred by the BAU in faking the disappearance of one of their own in the eyes of an international terrorist, Hotch and his crew had to appear before the top brass of the Bureau. Fiercely arguing to defend their every move, none of them had shown an ounce of remorse or commiseration in front of this jury of the first rank. On the contrary, they stuck to their guns as if they'd been in the right from start to finish. This arrogance displeased management, who decided to take a harder line and keep a close eye on their movements.

“Don't you understand that if I don't have anything in my hands, I can't defend them and you with them?”

“I didn’t know you were concerned about us.”

“Aaron, I know appearances are against me, but I'm not your enemy. I need to know.”

She couldn't have been more right, her subordinate thought. When Gideon and Rossi had left him in charge of the unit, he had immediately gone up to the section chief to present his vision of things. And he had literally seen her change color when he had explained the scope of the project. FBI headquarters had authorized the BAU to expand following its good results, but not to the extent he had imagined. Going from two agents to six – including a technical analyst demanding expensive computer equipment – and a private jet, had given Strauss cold sweats. However, unable at the time to counter the young director's rock-solid argument, she had capitulated. Which she now regretted more than ever, given the financial sinkhole this agency had become some days. And Hotch couldn't count the number of times she'd pointed out Spencer's ineptitude, Jason's and then Dave's great age, Derek and Emily's impulsiveness, or the fact that he could handle JJ's duties just fine.

So, no, he didn't believe her when she said she was on his side. Worse still, he knew full well that he and his men had acted totally out of line, and had made countless mistakes, right up to the tragic end. In fact, confessing to her was a bit like pushing the whole team off a cliff. However, he wasn’t fooled. This insistent request didn't come from her directly, but from her superiors, who were still reeling from their defeat in the Doyle affair. And as long as they didn't get an answer to this new and costly mystery, they'd keep her on a short leash and, by extension, she'd never stop pestering him. A burden he didn’t feel like carrying around.

“… Okay. On one condition.”

“Which one?”

“I want to be held solely accountable.”

“Why am I not surprised? She sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. Go on.”

She understood that he wouldn't incriminate any of his men but gave in because she would at least know what had happened.

“Reid called me late Saturday afternoon, Hotch began. He urgently needed to see me. He was under a lot of stress and had trouble speaking. I tried to find out what was going on and postpone our interview until Monday, but he then confessed that his girlfriend had disappeared.”

“I didn’t know he was dating someone.”

“Welcome to the club, he tossed out evenly. It was very recent, even though they had been communicating for just over three months.”

Strauss frowned, unsettled.

“’They had been communicating’? What that supposed to mean? They’ve never met?”

The section chief’s surprise was justified. He himself had thought he had misheard when Blake had revealed the strangeness of this relationship. However, while he had initially blamed this modus operandi on Reid's sociability difficulties, the reality was quite different.

“No. For a good reason. This woman was a victim of a stalker. A female stalker,” he added immediately.

“It exists?”

“It’s uncommon, but yes. These women often suffer from erotomania or are simply jealous. Maliciously jealous, emphasized the profiler in order to make her hear how dangerous this woman was. In our case, it’s the second option. Reid's girlfriend, Maeve, was a rather gifted geneticist. Her stalker had sent her a thesis, which she rejected on purely scientific grounds. But for this woman, it was the trigger that made Maeve's life a living hell.”

Aaron was pouring out this flood of information without taking the time to breathe, and his interlocutor had to stop him to clarify a point.

“Wait, did you discover all this during your investigation or did Dr. Reid tell you?”

“No, we found out on Saturday when we were doing our research.”

“This type of investigation does not fall within your jurisdiction, so why didn't you entrust it to local authorities?”

“Reid asked for our help.���

“So what? You know the laws better than anyone, Hotch. You knew you were doing it illegally.”

A former federal prosecutor, the director of the BAU continued to keep abreast of developments in American law whenever his overloaded schedule allowed him a little free time. In fact, he was well aware that the case he and his team had been following over the weekend did not fall within their remit. Diane Turner, though unbalanced, had not killed anyone before that day, and the police, who were unaware of the scientist's disappearance, had not asked for their help in solving the harassment that had degenerated. They had knowingly encroached on a territory that was not theirs, in defiance of all the laws that existed and that governed the tasks of both parties in normal times.

“Yes, but Reid would never have trusted anyone but us, and we couldn't have found Maeve without him.”

“Did he help you with the investigation? Realized Erin, flabbergasted. Despite his proximity to the victim? You know how quickly this can turn into a procedural error.”

“Yes. But we had no other option. Maeve was on the run, in hiding; she had become a ghost to escape her stalker. The only one who knew her and could therefore give us clues as to how to find her was him.”

“That’s why you conducted this operation undercover. To hide the fact that you've been working hand-in-hand with someone far too emotionally involved. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

The director gave him a look that spoke volumes about what she thought of this way of doing things. But he did not flinch. He didn't turn his head away or blink, proving that he was fully aware of his choices. A long stream of air escaped his superior's nostrils and she continued, as calmly as possible.

“What happened?”

“We discovered that the stalker was nothing less than the new girlfriend of Maeve's ex-fiancé. She broke off their engagement to steal her lover. To get what she had, he added, trying to get her to understand the young woman's psychology as best he could. Except she found out about Reid and Maeve. She then realized that the ex-fiancé was no longer of any use to her.”

“Did she kill him?”

The section leader may not have been a profiler, let alone a field agent, but that didn't stop her from knowing how to add two and two together. With the few crumbs her employee had deigned to throw her, she had been able to make the necessary deductions, and denying the truth would have been quite pointless.

“Unfortunately, agreed Hotch. Maeve was next on the list, but Reid suggested an exchange. Him in place of her. His plan was to present himself to the stalker and make her believe that it was she he loved after all, rather than Maeve.”

“For what purpose?” asked Strauss, eyebrows furrowed.

“Give her what she wanted: the recognition of an intelligent being. A very intelligent being.”

It may seem a trivial detail at first, but the crux of the problem lay in this aspect of the personalities of the protagonists of this sad story. All Diane had asked for was for a great mind – by her own standards – to endorse her and prove that she was not just another grain of sand in the universe. Unable to be content with her simple condition as one human among billions, she had made this quest her obsession, not hesitating for a moment to eliminate anyone in her path.

“Did she accept?”

“To meet him, yes. Alone, without gun and bulletproof vest. “

“You didn't let him?" she said, suddenly concerned.

“I did.”

“But…”

“I know it sounds absurd, but unarmed and unprotected, you seem much less aggressive, which can create a much calmer climate for dialogue.”

It was a dangerous maneuver, one that could turn into a sudden execution at the slightest change of tone or ill-chosen word, and one that only skilled negotiators were expected to carry out; however, circumstances had meant that Spencer had been the one and only potential candidate for the task. And, at this hour, knowing the outcome of this face-to-face encounter, he remained convinced that if Dave, he, or any other member of the BAU had come forward, things would not have gone any better; indeed, the death toll would have been even higher.

“And where were you?”

“Outside. With the rest of the team.”

“You left that kid alone, facing a hysterical, armed woman?”

“This plan could work; I had faith in him.”

Erin couldn’t believe it. From the outset, she had resented the presence of this tall, gangly teenager, who could barely hold a revolver and ran out of steam after only a few yards, in this unit that hunted down the dregs of humanity. In fact, she was quick to remind the man who had welcomed him that she had only agreed to validate his hiring because he should have been sitting behind his desk. And now she discovered that he had been thrown into the lion's den without even the means to defend himself. The absurdity of the situation immediately gave her a headache.

“What went wrong?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t there, admitted Hotch. We heard a gunshot and went in.”

“Had she killed Maeve?”

“No. She had shot Reid in the arm.”

Better and better, Strauss thought, repressing her urge to scream.

“Please tell me you've put her out of action.”

“No. Reid still felt he could negotiate with her. His life for Maeve’s…”

The giant fell silent as images of the scene flooded back from his memory. Like his colleagues, he replayed that evening over and over again, trying to find the moment when everything had changed. Trying to understand where the mistake had been made, so that it would never be repeated.

“But things didn't turn out as planned, did they?”

“No, he admitted, lowering his nose. Understanding how important Maeve was to Reid – unlike her – she killed two birds with one stone.”

A shiver ran down the section chief’s spine.

“… Meaning?”

“She held Maeve close to her. She aligned her head with Maeve's and pulled the trigger.”

What her imagination drew in her mind immediately made her nauseous. Within seconds, she felt as if all her blood had drained from her extremities. Although more often seated in a chair than pounding the countryside, like the man in front of her, the director knew the terrible damage a firearm could do to a human skull. Witnessing this horrific spectacle live left an indelible mark.

“… D… Dr. Reid was there?”

“Yes. We were all there.”

“And… none of you…?”

“We didn't have time to react, confessed the unit manager, not very proud of this error of judgement. We knew she had suicidal thoughts and was in danger of ending her life before our very eyes, but we didn't anticipate that she would take her target with her.”

He didn't know what it was like for his agents, but he'd clearly underestimated the extent of her neurosis. He hadn't imagined that her anger and hatred would be so great that they would combine at the last minute with her self-destructive impulses. But the mistake he'd made was surely to have let Spencer lead the conversation from start to finish, when he wouldn't have been sure himself – with the hindsight he had at the moment – of preventing her from pulling the trigger. He might have been able to save Maeve, but Diane’s frustration was far too deep-rooted in her veins for her to have listened to reason. And he was an experienced negotiator, unlike the young man who was just starting out in this field.

“… So, to sum up, Strauss resumed, fighting back her desire to raise her voice, three people died while you were unofficially investigating the whereabouts of one of them, involving an agent who was somehow intimately involved with her.”

Hotch nodded without opening his mouth. The section chief hoped this meant he realized the breaches of protocol this whole affair concealed, as well as their consequences. But to be absolutely sure she decided to emphasize the irresponsibility he'd shown over the weekend.

“Do you get that these three deceased people could have been members of your own team? You knowingly put them in danger to find someone Dr. Reid had never even seen! You're a branch manager, you're responsible for the lives of each and every one of your agents; you're not supposed to push them off the rails!”

“They volunteered,” said the profiler calmly.

“What?”

“Once Spencer had finished explaining the problem, I told them we'd have to work under the radar. I gave them the choice of leaving or staying, he explained, before adding: They chose to stay with full knowledge of the facts.”

“Of course, they stayed. You’re as close as the fingers on a hand. Your suggestion was purely rhetorical.”

Although she wasn't around the BAU agents very often, she had studied many of their mission reports and had read a lot of the information between the lines about their group dynamics. With their disparate temperaments, they were nonetheless ready to do anything to protect their peers or come to their aid if need be. A relationship that is more friendly than professional, which management could have welcomed if their actions had not flouted the established rules. She could easily imagine that they hadn't hesitated for a moment to follow their superior's plan, without even considering the possible repercussions on their careers. And she was convinced that Hotch knew it, even before offering them a way out.

“So what? What are you going to do? Cancel Reid’s leave? He doesn't even come out of his home,” he revealed, disguising his concern as best he could.

“I want a report,” she spat in an unapologetic tone.

“No. No way.”

Erin wasn’t surprised by this rebuff. She had even expected it, as well as the battle ahead. The director of the Behavioral Analysis Unit may have adopted an icy demeanor on a daily basis, but he protected the men and women who worked under him with an almost maternal ferocity. His superior had lost count of the number of times she had argued with him for long minutes – or even longer – without succeeding in obtaining the name of the culprit(s) in his team. Failing that, she'd had to fall back on him, except that he didn't seem to mind in the least. But this time, she was determined to win this face-to-face encounter, even more so now that she knew the details of this sordid story.

“Hotch, I want a mission report about this case.”

“If I do this, the others will have to do one too and everyone will pay for it.”

In fact, according to established protocol, each agent quoted in his brief was required to write his or her own version of the facts, so that all aspects of the case would be known to the higher-ups. As a result, if the file showed that mistakes had been made, the competent authorities only had to bend down to pick out the names of the culprits and punish them as they saw fit.

“You don’t have to put any names.”

“Please, no one up there will believe that I conducted this investigation alone or with complete strangers. And even less that I've managed to analyze data here, while being elsewhere.”

He had a point, but she hadn't said her last word.

“The Committee won't let me go until they really know what happened.”

“I refuse to sacrifice my team because they wanted to save someone in defiance of a sacrosanct protocol established by bureaucrats.”

“Aaron, you can't use FBI equipment for personal purposes!”

“That woman was in danger!”

Silence fell over the office following these sudden outbursts, and the two fighters stared at each other for a long moment, concentrating to keep from blinking. Strauss sighed.

“Hotch, like it or not, I need something official, in writing, to present to the Committee. Something that could justify turning on your analyst's computers, moving your vehicles, using your phones, and giving Dr. Reid unlimited time off. Without the bait, you know exactly who the piranhas are going to pounce on.”

Indeed, he could see perfectly well who was going to suffer the brunt of this backlash. That said, he knew that the result would be more or less the same whether he wrote something or not. Right now, the Bureau's top brass didn't know who was responsible for all this unauthorized activity, so their wrath could fall on anyone. However, being no fools, they would logically turn their attention to the usual owners of said equipment, summoning the unit manager as a matter of priority to get to the bottom of the whole affair. And if he gave them his report, even if he omitted the identity of those present, the brass would come down on him and demand clarification. He wouldn't supply them, of course, but this first step forward, a sign of goodwill on his part, would perhaps mitigate their desire to remove him from office.

“… How soon do you need it?”

“First thing in the morning.”

“My report is likely to be very concise.”

“Do your best.”

Without another word, she indicated the exit with her chin. Accustomed to this stinginess in politeness, he got up and headed for the closed door.

“Aaron,” she called out as he put his hand on the handle.

Without saying a word, he slowly turned around, wondering what else she wanted from him.

“How is he doing?”

Hotch frowned, unsettled. His superior rarely worried about his flock, even though she knew how difficult their mission was and what they had been through. For all he knew, she'd done nothing for JJ when she'd nearly been eaten alive by rabid dogs, nor for Derek when he'd come within a hair's breadth of exploding in a New York ambulance, nor for Penelope after she'd been shot in the chest. Why she was asking him? What did she really wanted to know? Impossible to determine as it stands, he concluded in his mind. He didn't have enough information to answer these questions and didn't intend to linger in the office any longer. What's more, even if the probability was low, it was possible that the section chief might actually be on their side this time, smoothing things over with the bigwigs at FBI headquarters. And so, he decided to play fair.

“Like a teenager who's lost the love of his life.”

___

Not my best work imo, but I like some lines here and there. :)

Hope you'll like it better.

[gffa]

On page 419 of Death’s End and I am going to GNAW ON THE WALLS PRETTY SOON because this series has enthralled me.  I’m not sure what I expected when I picked up the book and honestly I’m not sure knowing ahead of time would have made much difference--I’m reading reviews for the early books, trying to gather my thoughts together, because they feel like they’re pinging off in a dozen different directions at once, and thinking about how I probably would have felt like this was overhyped, either before I read it or once I’d read it. Because what really gets me about this series is the absolutely relentless pacing of it and how it feels to experience that.  From the outset, if you’d explained the structure of the story to me, as I’ve wanted to several times when talking about the book, because I feel I should give an accurate view of what it’s like, I think I would have been less than enthused.  It’s incredibly brisk, the characters aren’t ones that really lend themselves towards fandom-type Blorbos (though, I do love several of them), and it’s about weaving together culture, science, and the fundamental questions about what drives sentient people. With each scene, the story keeps moving forward, there’s always a new puzzle to tease out, a new question about what motivates an alien race that we may or may not think similarly to, that humanity is stepping onto a galactic playing field that’s been going on for longer than they know, and the nature of the universe.  I had no idea what to expect when I read the premise of the books, other than that it was reasonably hard scifi, which it is, but at a more fundamental level, I think it’s mostly about what people do when they discover new things and what that means in regards to your relationships with other peoples. The way the story is written, almost like a series of puzzles to solve, then a bombshell is dropped, and you have a new series of puzzles to figure out, is an absolute rush to read, it’s addictive and more than one night I stayed up just to read one more chapter, because the reveal moments work so damn well each time.  The answers the story gives, even the way it leads to more questions, satisfied me every single time.  Especially because the answers weren’t always nice ones, so I never knew whether the characters would figure their way out of this one or if they would be trapped in a corner and have to face a terrible cost. This is very much a story about humans facing what seems like an impossible mountain to climb and the messy, shell-shocked feeling of how all of that plays out. Is this a perfect series?  No, I can see why some people warned me about parts of it, especially that there are some moments of side-eye-worthy sexism, but what the story delivers on is fantastic and it’s made me genuinely excited to read more genre stories again, because I fell in love with that sense of exploration, of discovery of what’s around the next corner that’s wildly imaginitive, that a story can grip me in the thrall of desperately wanting to know where all of this is going.

[changterhune]

ATTACK OF THE NEW NOVEL!!!

I started a new novel about a week ago and no one is more surprised than I. 

For starters I’ve not been focused on writing of late. Most of my free time has been devoted to art or music. Some writing but only on existing stuff like the mythical 4th issue of Bunnyhead, a horror novel and writing for Igloo Magazine.

The main reason though has been due to my chronic clinical depression. Yes, I’m an artist suffering from depression. Ain’t that a surprise? But seriously I have it and it’s been better and worse depending on the time of day you ask. Heh. But it’s real and for whatever reason I’ve not been too interested  in it frankly. 

The pandemic was what kicked off my dry spell. My father’s death in late 2021 flattened me and I’ve spent the better part of the last two years grieving and recovering. Writing seemed to be the hardest thing to do in that period. Story ideas came and went but few made me feel like they needed to be written down. It was low on the list of priorities. I’ve been more focused on music of late so writing wasn’t where the muse went to either gift me or shit on me depending on how you look at it. 

About two weeks ago though a funny thing happened. I’d been thinking about a character in the horror novel I’m working on (sporadically I admit). And I had a revelation about them after wondering about that age old question one ponders when they write fiction: what makes this guy tick. 

Then all of a sudden it clicked, this thing that I’d been wrestling with suddenly came together. I wrote several thousand words of diary entries for them and they held up under the fierce scrutiny of the morning after. I edited, wrote more, edited again and wrote more. It was a good work and I looked forward to more.

A couple nights later I was watching tv with my wife and out of nowhere this idea hit me. I was surprised because it was later in the night and I was thinking more about sleep than anything else. But the idea stuck in my head. I tossed it over a bit as one does when this happens, wondering if it had legs or not. So I did what I often do and wrote some notes, basic premise and rough outline.

I did go to bed kind of excited because it had been so long since a story. The next morning it seemed good enough to write so I sat down and started typing. First chapter emerged pretty easily considering the writing muscles in the brain hadn’t worked in a while so there was some awakening of those. But the words came and after a bit I’d enough to write out a rough general outline of beginning middle and end then some more for a possible second book. 

Well then…

As I said no one is more surprised than I. The detail will remain with me for a while until it’s time. But writing’s continued apace and will until it’s either done or I’m sick of it. 

Next I’ll say about it you’ll either hear I’ve got a book deal or I’m self-publishing it. 

Until then stay away from the demons unless they’ve got pizza.

[redheadgleek]

Quarter reads 2023

At the beginning of the year, I posted on facebook for book recommendations to read over the new year and had multiple friends comment with recommendations. So I’m reading books this year that I might not have otherwise.

January – The Beggar King and the Secret of Happiness by Joel Ben Izzy. FB recommendation. I was really hesitant to read this book, as it sounded very much like “all things happen for a reason” and “God has a purpose for all suffering” which is one of the things that I left behind even before leaving my religion. I’m glad I read it, as it’s been one of my favorites of the year. Beautiful interweaving of story-telling and grief. – The Bird King by G. Willow Wilson. Friend recommendation. A story of a time in history that I knew little of (the last sultan in the Iberian peninsula). It started out so good – the first 3rd was fantastic, the second 3rd was mediocre, and the last 3rd painful. So disappointing. – The White Allies Handbook: 4 Weeks to Join the Racial Justice Fight for Black Women by Lecia Michelle. A finish up from last year. I was really hoping for an anti-racism 201 type book and this was not it. Still some good points. – Flying Solo by Linda Holmes. I saw this on a friend’s end of year list and thought it sounded good (plus I really love Linda Holmes’s writing for NPR). For being written by a happily single woman, there was a lot of emphasis placed on dating relationships. – Vita Nostra by Marina and Sergey Dyachenko. Friend recommendation. I have never read a book like this. Creepy and mind blowing in a philosophical way. It’s so very Russian (or rather Ukranian) and the whole thing felt foreign. I’m on the waiting list for the sequel. – Scales and Sensibility by Stephanie Burgis. Jane Austen meets pet dragons. Recommended in one of my fantasy groups as cozy fantasy. – A Charmed Christmas by Alison Cochrun. A short-story epilogue to The Charmed Offensive. I could have done without it. – Woman on Fire by Lisa Barr. Started reading this in November of 2022 for a book club that I couldn’t attend, so it kept getting bumped. It was a good thriller, but I didn’t buy the antagonist’s motivations. – Twitter Crush: A Gen-X Medical Romance by Em S A’Cor. I got this as an ARC from a physician writing group I’m part of. The writing was fine. There were several subplots that I had issues with, including the guy getting black out drunk on their first date, a “shrill” ex-wife, and a “romance” between the vixen chief fellow and the chair department, which was gross and lecherous and blamed entirely on the fellow. And while I really do appreciate writing from one’s own experiences, descriptions of vaginal dryness from menopause and impotence from antidepressants do not fit well with a romance novel. – I Kissed Shara Wheeler by Casey McQuiston. Much better than One Last Stop. – The Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien, read by Andy Serkis. I’ve read the LOTR trilogy countless times – but I will admit to being guilty to skimming over Books 3 and 5 and getting to Sam and Frodo climb to Mount Doom. So there was a part in the beginning of Book 5 that I had to listen to twice because I’m pretty sure I’ve never registered it before. Anyway, Andy’s voice was amazing as always and I almost want to listen to the whole thing again. (He’s recording the Silmarillion right now, so maybe I’ll be finally about to get through that book). – And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie. My first Christie. It was a good murder mystery and I hadn’t quite figured it out by the end. – All Systems Red by Martha Wells. An enjoyable read, although I think I need to read the rest of the series in order to properly judge it. – They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera. Pretty much as it advertises on the tin. The premise gave me anxiety.

February – Moloka’i by Alan Brennert. Friend recommendation. Read this on my way back from a vacation in Hawai’i. Lovely story of perseverance and a good picture into old Hawaiian culture and the perfect cap to a wonderful vacation. – Healer and Witch by Nancy Werlin. A young healer tries to find a teach while navigating investigations by the Inquisition. Reminded me of T Kingfisher’s A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking. Not fond of romances between 15 and 24 year olds though. -* Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett. Loved this one. Emily’s a professor in the study of fairies exploring a small village trying to figure out their secrets and she can’t get along with the villagers and her too charming colleague sweeps in. I can’t wait for the sequel. – I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy. Audiobook. Friend recommendation. This one has been circulating my social groups because she was raised Mormon. That ended up making up very little of her memoir, rather it was more focused on her eating disorder and her relationship with her mom. It was an abrupt ending though and felt incomplete. An easy listen – each chapter was ~ 2-5 minutes. – Ejaculate Responsibly: A Whole New Way to Think About Abortion by Gabrielle Stanley Blair. Like everyone else, I was completely taken by her viral twitter thread about how men bear all of the responsibility of unwanted pregnancies. This was a meatier exploration and well worth the read.

March -* Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner. Book club read. A beautiful book exploring mother-daughter relationships, grief, and culture. One of my favorites that I’ve read so far this year. – Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again: Women and Desire in the Age of Consent by Katharine Angel. Book club read. It’s been a while since I read a book where “feminism” was flung around like a dirty word (and yet, I think if you asked the author, she would tell you that she’s a feminist). The last part, exploring vulnerability, was great, but there was absolutely no discussion about how it was as unrealistic in sex as consent culture, which she chided for pages. – Autoboyography by Christina Lauren. Friend recommendation. Two boys fall in love in a high school in Provo, UT – the setting was so perfectly Provo that I was transported back there, but there were inconsistencies in the depiction of Mormonism that I’m pretty sure other fans wouldn’t have picked up on. – Fairy Tale by Stephen King. Friend recommendation. Also my first King book read. There was so much that I loved about it – the world setting was fantastic. It started to drag and become formulaic towards the middle end. I did nearly throw the book in disgust at the ending, because we couldn’t possibly have a 17 year old boy go back to the Real World without losing his virginity to a random character he never interacted with, right? Bah. – This Here Flesh: Spirituality, Liberation, and the Stories That Make Us by Cole Arthur Riley. Friend recommendation. I’m not sure that I am the right audience for this book as I no longer see myself as Christian or really believe in God or Christ at all anything, but, the storytelling was gorgeous and poetic, and some parts resonated deeply. It certainly is a brand of Christianity that I wish more would get behind. – The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna. Very much enjoyed this story. Had a lot of the same charm as The House in the Cerulean Sea. – The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper. I was expecting a weightier book, something like The Darkness Outside Us. It was okay for what it was. – The Queer Principles of Kit Webb by Cat Sebastian. I walked into the book thinking it was a sapphic romance – nope! A fun little gay highwayman romantic romp, but was left a little unfinished. – The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian. The sequel to above. The questions were mostly answered here and it was a good conclusion to the series. – The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older. A friend and I tried out the “Buddy Read” function on StoryGraph for this and it was like a virtual book club where we could make comment and respond to each other. The mystery sort of fell apart for me, but it was an enjoyable novella.

Currently reading: – The Ten Thousand Doors of January. Picked this one up in January and just haven’t gotten into it. – Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde. I’ve realized that I’ve read very little in terms of classic feminist works. It’s just a slog for me to get through nonfiction works. – Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clark (audiobook). I started to read JS shortly after it was published but I didn’t get more than half way through before it was due back to the library. It’s a slooooooow going book. Over 32 hours. It’ll be my commute book for the next 2 months at least. – A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki. Book club read

Other friend recommendations for the year: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield The School for Good Mothers by Jessamine Chan What My Bones Knew: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma by Stephanie Foo Frogs in A Pot by K.D. Kinz (written by a nurse I used to work with.) Scythe by Neal Shusterman Kaikeyi by Vaishnavi Patel Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by Gabrielle Zavin Anxious People by Fredrik Backman The Emperor’s Soul by Brandon Sanderson Sweet Like Jasmine by Bonnie Gray Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelk (What would you all recommend? I’d like to round it out to 24 books).

Books picked up from the library: Glitterland by Alexis Hall, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green, The Rose That Grew From Concrete: a collection of poetry by Tupac Shakur.

[voxofthevoid]

Tagged by @joeys-piano. Thanks, man, this looks fun!

rules: post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year! 

Five Works Posted in 2022 That I’m Most Proud Of

Compared to 2020 and 2021, I posted fewer works this year. Not even 15 actually. But I also adopted the habit of writing one work through to the end and posting it once it’s complete or almost complete, which also generally means I can quality control better for plot and prose, so I’m pretty damn happy with what’s there.

memory that presses like a blade against my throat: Bleach, grimmichi, complete. Grimmjow takes a two-decade-long depression nap and returns to the Living World to find a nearly-fifty Ichigo. There are emotions. The whole fic started out as an Emotion, and it was very, very cathartic to write. I’m quite fond of the end result as well.

little lamb to the slaughter: Jujutsu Kaisen, goyuu, WIP (on ao3; complete on my end). Gojou takes an unorthodox and very immoral approach to teaching, while Yuuji isn’t as clueless as anyone would like him to be. I haven’t sunk my teeth into dynamics that involve a plethora of power imbalances like this in quite a while, and it’s been a blast. Plus, this fic let me get a better handle on writing both characters, and I fully intend to use this knowledge for evil.

realities that kept the music silent, the dreams in a box: MCU, stucky, complete: MCU x Planet Hulk. Several years post-Endgame, Bucky comes home to find a very familiar stranger haunting the place. Also, there’s a dinosaur. Funnily enough, I didn’t write everything I’d planned for this fic, just stopped at a sufficiently organic ending, but I want both PH!Steve and EG!Bucky to be happy, dammit, and it was rewarding to get them started together on that path in this fic.

bury all your secrets in my skin: Bleach, grimmichi, complete: Ichigo grows a good dozen tentacles, and Grimmjow is surprisingly into it. That’s it, that’s the fic. Honestly, this was just straight-up fun, and I’m pretty proud of myself for working tentacles into canon in a way that’s absolutely contrived but still fits because Bleach canon is Just Like That.

(you'll whisper, serpent tongue) what you fear you have become: Jujutsu Kaisen, goyuu, WIP (on ao3; complete on my end). Making my first fic for a fandom be one set in a post-apocalyptic future, with the PoV character having spent one thousand years locked in a box, might not be the wisest choice I’ve made, but it’s a scenario that haunted me till I wrote the whole thing, and I am quite happy with how it’s come out.

Four WIPs I’m Excited to Post in 2023

Due to my rather odd writing and posting habits, I’m considering WIPs to include both fics I’m actively working on and fics that I’ve finished writing but haven’t edited to a posting-ready state.

but monsters are always hungry, darling: Bleach, grimmichi. Grimmjow drags Ichigo to Hueco Mundo toward the end of their first battle, Hollow!Zangetsu takes over the fight, Aizen interferes, and a completely unfun time is had by all afterward, mostly because this is filthy omegaverse noncon porn.

and you cried, love's like watching someone die: Bleach, grimmichi. Ichigo dies and keeps getting punted right into the reincarnation cycle, memories wiped, and Grimmjow chases his soul across around three millennia. The title is extremely literal, enough said.

love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage: Bleach, grimmichi. Hitman AU that was initially inspired by Mr and Mrs Smith, but then it kind of...went places. The initial premise of rival agents married in their civilian identities has been retained, but now it’s set in a high-tech future scenario, and Grimmjow is somehow still a catboy, and I do unholy things to Ichigo’s sanity.

there's a lover in the story (but the story's still the same): Jujutsu Kaisen, goyuu. I’ve been fondly calling this the gojouswap fic in my head because that’s pretty much what it is. A messed-up teleportation array lands a teenaged Gojou in the present canon timeline, a couple of weeks before the Goodwill Event. What can I say, I like putting Yuuji in situations.

Three Improvements in My Writing Over 2022

Thanks to my profession (editor), I’m forever learning more about English grammar, its finicky rules, and the thousand arbitrary exceptions to every one of those. I do believe that automatically translates to better writing at the technical level, not just because it strengthens my fundamentals but also because I have a better idea of when and how to break the rules to fit my purpose. Granted, I still halfass the proofreading because I can’t not see that as a chore now.

I think I’m getting better at jumping right into writing, especially characterization, without going through my usual formula of reading a shitton of fic for months and months while rotating the characters in my head like a rotisserie chicken (before the absence of highly specific Vox-targeted content makes me write my own fic). I say this because, with each new fandom I delve into, I find I’m getting happier and happier with the first fic I write.

The porn’s getting hotter, folks. Partly because with each year, I get kinkier and less reserved about inflicting those kinks on characters. Partly because each new sexual experience or self-discovery I have translates into my writing in...semi-subtle ways. No one-to-one relation at all, but it does help me work in little details that make the whole thing more evocative.

Two Resolutions Related to Writing

None. I’m allergic to new-year resolutions. Even things I want to do will lose their charm if I phrase/consider them as resolutions.

Favorite Line I’ve Written in 2022

I genuinely don’t remember 90% of the exact lines I’ve written this year. It doesn’t help that I tend to remember (and remember more fondly, at that) things I wrote more recently than older things.

I think I’ll go with the summary of and you cried, love's like watching someone die (described above).

It’s like this:

Ichigo dies.

He dies a hundred deaths and lives a hundred lives, always human, always burning, and he never once remembers.

Grimmjow never forgets.

No-pressure tagging @thelionshoarde, @eusuntgratie, @dragongirlg-fics, @wayward-lives, @spacerenegades