11/18/24

I'm not sure how much longer I can stomach living in this septic pool. Vought and its inhabitants are even more incompetent than I thought. Of course, I can do the work of everyone in the Tower and dismantle this country's fragile democracy myself, but it'd be nice to have a little support.

That lickspittle Ashley is worse than useless. She indulges all of Homelander's worst impulses and then wonders why Vought's reputation is in the shitter. She even tried to give me advice after Ryan's pitch meeting today. As if the woman whose nerves are so frayed that she's ripped out all her hair has anything to offer me. She's not even smart enough to realize that all her fawning and ass kissing only makes Homelander dislike her more.

I wish I could have Homelander kill her, but unfortunately, we need her for now. Vought has had too many internal changes – replacing Stan Edgar with Homelander, and Madelyn Stillwell with Ashley are just a few examples. Don't even get me started on the rotating door of Superheroes that have temporarily occupied the Seven these past few years.

Vought needs to appear more stable and reliable, since American consumers see corporations as part of the family. Ashley has been the trusted and familiar face of Vought through its many iterations and the idiotic masses find her presence comforting. Whatever helps them cope, I suppose. What Homelander and I have planned will be the biggest change the American people will have to face yet, and if they need Girl Boss Mommy to hold their hand through it, fine. Maybe once Homelander and I are in full power, I can get rid of her, but she's a thorn in my ass until then.

The Deep joined us in the elevator shortly after Ashley tried to impress me with her "wisdom." She smarted at the idea of him joining Ryan's first solo save and had some choice words about his deep love for marine life. Not that she's wrong – The Deep's octopus lover is the most poorly kept secret in the Tower – but I think it's pretty fucking rich of her to act superior to anyone, even this guy. Stupid as he is, The Deep can control some of the largest mammals on the planet and Ashley is merely a corporate puppet stuffed in a bad wig and a worse pantsuit.

I told him as much once Ashley left the elevator, just for fun. Maybe if I can whip up that macho, insecure idiot into a frenzy, he can take a few shots at Ashley for me. I'd be so grateful.

The pitch meeting for Ryan's new superhero identity was a disaster. Homelander can't decide if he wants his son to be his sidekick or a carbon copy of him. Both are very bad ideas, but he just can't resist trying to squeeze himself into Ryan's new image. The name those idiots in marketing came up with was Homeboy. I assume it's supposed to be a play on the slang term "homeboy" but it reads like you just smashed Homelander's name in front of the word "boy." What a metaphor.

I've had very little facetime with Ryan, but from what I can gather, he seems like a nice and surprisingly well-adjusted kid. I refuse to let him be infantilized by answering to "Homeboy" his whole life. He needs to stand on his own, even if I have to hold his father back by the cape to do it.

New Noir found out that The Deep is angling to get added to the call sheet for Ryan's first save and now he wants in, too. I don't see how it could hurt. He and The Deep would be perfect as Ryan's two bumbling goons, and it would finally give Noir something to do. As long as Homelander stays clear of the scene, the save should go fine.

11/19/24

I have planned an excursion to TruthCon later today. I can only hope that I manage to resist the urge to shoot myself, despite my proximity and access to so many guns. (I kid. I'm honestly more worried about the smell.)

I'm braving this repugnant crowd of illiterates and cousin fuckers to scope out a potential new recruit for the Seven. We need to start filling up slots, and soon. I don't know how much longer the public will keep letting us call ourselves the Seven if there's only five of us.

Oh, dearest me. I used the word "us" (twice, in fact) when talking about the Seven. Is this how it feels to be part of a team? Will I start exchanging friendship bracelets with A-Train? Taking improv lessons from New Noir? Maybe The Deep can tell me all about how cunnilingus with an octopus works. I really am curious.

Firecracker is a D-list Superhero that frequents the alt-right Supe movement and hosts a middling podcast with hundreds of listeners worldwide. I was briefly one of them, sad to say, when I was doing research on our gal. Truthbomb is mostly racist dog whistling and prattling on about absurd conspiracy theories with the unearned confidence that only a truly stupid person can have.

It reminds me of our dear, departed Stormfront. That Nazi could really fire people up. It even worked on me! Watching her spout her racist bullshit in such a skillful way left me both infuriated and impressed. Firecracker is only a pale imitation of her, but I believe with the right training and a bigger platform, she could be a real asset to our cause. She's not the choice I would've gone with if I was building my own team from scratch, but since Homelander has already positioned Vought and the Seven as conservative institutions, we may as well lean all the way in.

I have to go get ready and pick out something in my closet that will help me blend in, if that's possible. It's strange how going outside in my pedestrian clothes now feels like going undercover. How quickly the night changes.

11/19/24, later

The Seven has a new official member. Bargain Bin Stormfront actually impressed me, even if she failed to kill "The Boys" (another stupid name) like I wanted. I thought Firecracker might be buying into her own bullshit, but she's very aware of what her pathetic audience wants and just how to pitch it to them. A dim-witted, racist redneck has no place in the world's greatest Superhero team, but a savvy scam artist who's willing to say anything, no matter how shameless, to get the sale? That, I can work with. I'll even put up with all the microaggressions. The racism aspect wasn't an act, unfortunately.

The Boys walked into my trap with their eyes wide open. They have a reputation as an unconventional but effective team, so I was hoping they'd prove to be formidable opponents, but my life is a series of recurring disappointments. The CIA's crack team of Superhero killers were nearly killed by Firecracker and her multiplying friend, and only survived due to the interference of one Billy Butcher. He's clearly the most dangerous member of the Boys and the rest of them should be easy to kill once he's croaked of cancer.

Oh, remember when I said everything should go fine with Ryan's save as long as Homelander keeps his distance? Well, guess fucking what.

11/20/24

Daisy Duck Dynasty did not waste any time moving her stuff in. She brought with her a giant portrait of herself posing in front of the American flag with a velociraptor and a brown bear. It's so ridiculous and self-aggrandizing that it makes me like her a bit more.

New Noir showed up at my room unannounced this afternoon with a box of Buster Beaver drawings. He said there were six more just like it in OG Noir's bedroom and asked what I made of it. I said, "That Black Noir must have really liked Buster Beaver…?" New Noir found this very funny for some reason.

Then he unmasked, even though I did not want that or ask him to, and started poking around my room, asking about my book collection. We wound up bonding over our shared love for "An Actor Prepares" by Constantin Stanislavski. He said that was the book that turned him into a serious actor and made him fall in love with the craft. I read it in middle school in an effort to fit in with my peers. It didn't work, but it did help me learn how to act like something resembling a human being.

He came onto me after that, which by then I saw coming. I recognized that moony look in his eyes. Besides, men don't ask women all kinds of personal questions if they aren't interested in fucking. I wasn't opposed to it – I had no plans that evening, anyway, and New Noir is very good looking under the mask. It's a shame no one gets to see his face.

New Noir was an engaging and passionate lover, and I enjoyed myself thoroughly. That enjoyment quickly dried up, however, when he asked me to hold him afterward. When I refused, he forced me to watch him perform a monologue from Rebel Without a Cause.

Actors are all freaks. I'm going to bed.