#a hundred visions and revisions

[bronzeagepizzeria]

More images flash through her, years and years and years of lives she hasn’t lived; too quick and brief for her to parse through, to understand. Rain and fire and anger and war, a woman and her great wide smile, the feel of her body pressed tight against hers. Tiny arms throwing themselves around her neck. Trees growing upside down, their roots like spilled ink across parchment, torrents of water and spiders, pulsing and wriggling, suffocating in quicksand soil. The sound of a heartbeat drowning out the world in sound.

AU: What if the Toymaker switched the Fifteenth Doctor and the Metacrisis Doctor? A 60th Anniversary Rewrite.

START FROM THE BEGINNING | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

[todayisafridaynight]

tumblr stop trying to copy twitter and for the love of god please improve your tagging system i just want to find A Post using keywords i know should work

[fohatic]

this is a bold and interesting take… for the most part i’m in agreement with this previous reply; in certain fandom spaces (especially those dominated by young people who grew up ‘online’), it often feels like there’s an expectation to conform to a certain social media mentality – one that equates reblogs not necessarily with self-expression and the thoughtful curation of one's personal preferences, but rather with 'support' for a creator’s efforts, the lack of which can be taken quite personally. in these circles, even 'friendship’ can be earned or measured by whether or not one tends to reblog another’s fic announcements, etc. (perceived “BNF’s”, meanwhile, often enjoy reblogs without any expectation of reciprocation; the ostensible reasons for their exemption aren’t difficult to fathom, though it isn’t always due to merit). it’s all very transactional, though this aspect of these relationships can be so sugar-coated in emojis and such that it might not be immediately apparent.

to favor individual expression over passive/obligatory promotion on tumblr—i.e. to cultivate a space of one’s 'own’, only reblogging the sorts of things that actually align with one’s taste and preferences—is to risk exclusion from the closer-knit fandom circles (either through passive indifference, or even being actively unfollowed, etc.). the longer you hang around, the more obvious this becomes. it's no wonder that the more wizened members of these communities tend to engage more sparingly than the rest, leaving the circle-jerks to those that would eagerly turn the blogosphere into a prescriptive, emoji-littered hellscape.

there’s nothing inherently wrong with promoting oneself or others, of course: certain fandom blogs function expressly as promotional accounts to boost the visibility of creators, which is perfectly good and reasonable. many others appear to serve as 'personal' fandom accounts, but are run by bloggers so entrenched in this promotional behavior that anyone following them might be hard-pressed to identify what they actually like versus what they’re passively compelled to reblog. that in itself isn't sinister, though — many of these people are just genuinely nice, and want to lift up others out of kindness. it's only sinister when it becomes normalized to the degree that anyone who doesn't conform to this trend risks punitive social consequences, however obscurely.

maybe this is why the author of the previous reply isn’t inclined to bother with fic posts on tumblr: how can you trust that what you’re being recommended is actually worthwhile, when basically anything is deemed reblog-worthy by the predominant social media crowd; when people are too afraid of being subtly policed by fellow fans over how they use this website to express their actual preferences; and when truly excellent works are so easily overlooked in this sort of climate?

PEOPLE OF TUMBLR! i am crazy curious to know what makes you (or stops you from) reblogging posts from writers that advertise their fics!

fanart still gets notes, shitposts still get notes, but a writer can put up an ao3 link to some of the most amazing words you'll ever read and it'll end up with 3 reblogs and 9 likes on a very good day; therefore i am begging to know what would actually make you reblog (yes reblog specifically, because likes are wonderful but they don't spread the word!) an author's post about their fic!

little things for clarification:

* second option: does not include fanart (either author-drawn or commissoned); this would include things like moodboards, other photos or graphics, etc.

** fifth option: includes things like oneshots posted directly to tumblr, x reader posts, etc.

[charmedreincarnation]

MAYA, I MANIFESTED MY DREAM LIFE!!!!

Okay, I don't know if you remember me, but I participated in a lot of your challenges and the Pink’s challenge, and I found some success! I shifted to my wr and manifested some things, but I could never do it consistently, and it was really fucking annoying.

So, I took three months off and worked hard, using subliminals every day and going on affirmation rampages. I was doing lucid dreaming methods, SATs, meditations, yoga nidra, reading spiritual books literally my whole summer was dedicated to shifting and the void state. I was eat sleeping and breathing it because I could not continue to live the way I was even I can even consider that living …

So What did I do

I just followed your challenge because college was starting, and I couldn't go back to school without my dream life for the fourth time, fearing I might actually harm myself. So played the fields with this rampage (together in two different tabs).

During the Day

https://youtu.be/aLsn6ZK4RZ8?si=Dt_j7ChLjNsQ6tpV

https://youtu.be/gBD4Owz1GC0?si=icOkN1DoFsqP-adT

During the day, I would live in the end. I created albums for my desired realities, re-read my scripts, revised my void list because I genuinely believed I was going to succeed, watched supercell shifting videos on YouTube, and stared at my vision board, realizing it was going to be my life the next day, and more!

Overnight

https://youtu.be/JwV297pP9aw?si=Sxx-xlhE_owInoxH

https://youtu.be/DKB5I9y8SEg?si=PI-UaNw2m_VUWYy1

What I Manifested

- Master shifting abilities

- Master void state abilities

- Having my WR to be a perfect heaven

- Making this current reality a dream: desired looks, desired body, never gaining weight, revised wealth and family, dream friend group, a social media following, being worshipped and respected, being so beautiful by my own standards, dream home (I have a mountain range that goes through my backyard and a farm on my land, it’s enormous), revised city, only attracting wealthy, tall, attractive men, pretty privilege, 145 IQ, going to an Ivy League, getting rid of my anxiety and depression, getting rid of my health issues, no toxic family, so much money, and revised my name to Bella because I love Bella Hadid (my old name was Audrey), and so much more.

I know it sounds nothing too crazy compared to other people who manifest powers and trillions of dollars, but I can shift anytime I want. I’m going to my singing desired reality and high school musical Dr soon and I am so excited I have hundreds of places to explore. My life here finally has stability, and I’m so happy. Not waking up with stress, nausea, and diarrhea is a blessing. My house is clean, my family members aren’t fighting and calling me names, my siblings and I are close. I audibly gasp anytime I see myself in the mirror. My phone is always blowing up with people asking me for plans when it used to be dry as hell, and people forgot I even existed. Everywhere I go, people tell me I should model, want to pay for what I’m buying, are so kind, open doors for me, want to help me for no reason, give me discounts, ask me on dates… I’m so happy and confused. I don’t know how to feel. I am genuinely so loved and respected, and on top of that, I get to explore the universe of my favorite shows and movies.

I’m so glad I never gave up, even though these three months were hard and my life had gotten worse, I am finally free, my hard work paid off, and I hope everyone else will do the same. We truly are God! I was afraid this community was some big joke and big bloggers were creative writers or just laughing at delusional people like me, but I can confirm it’s very, very real.

My love I am so proud of you ! And yes I vaguely remember you and your first shift you messaged me about :)!

I am happy your hard work paid off as well. I remember when everything seemed so meaningless and delusional as well and I also thought shifting was some big joke to target mentally ill teens, but the reality is we truly are all god and no amount of doubt and struggle will ever change that truth. I hope you enjoy your dream life, and I am happy I could help 💖

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Thank you to all the authors who share their wonderful stories with us. I hope this list reminds you that I come back to these stories often and that your words are loved by many.

As always, these fics are set in the wizarding world but aren’t necessarily canon compliant.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries.

A Hundred Visions and Revisions by @yallthemwitches

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

To live for the hope of it all

Whispers in the Dark also by yallthemwitches

When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing... but if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught?

Until the Light Takes Us also by yallthemwitches

A series of drabbles and fics following the prompt of Jilytober Fest 2024.

color theory by @clare-with-no-i

Lily Evans learns about love: its hues, its tints, its shades. Some disappoint. Some dazzle.

falling (for fools) by @jjameslily

She hated him. Hated his confidence, his messy charm, the way he managed to take up space even when he wasn’t saying a word.

Absolutely. Totally. Without question.

But, as much as she tried to focus, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought.

She’d never noticed just how distracting James Potter could be.

don’t let it make you cry also by jjameslily

Her eyes glistened, the love within her radiating from her. She let it ripple outward, weaving her spirit into the air around him, reaching beyond the veil, hoping he—Harry, their son—would feel it not as a ghost of a fleeting memory, but as a pulse. Alive. Real.

Quid Pro Quo by StarsAndDiamond (on ao3)

Lily Evans was not ready to go home for her sister's Christmas engagement, but she wasn't the only one up late at night in the common room.

Sharper Than Hope by @maraudersftw

“You’re…” A lick of lips; something sharper than hope on my tongue; another attempt. “You fancy me?”

every single time by @gigglesandfreckles-hp

Unrelated drabbles, fics, ficlets, and word dumps in response to jilytober 2024 prompts

2, 5, 10, 11, 12, 16, 19, 21, 27, 29 and 30 are my favourites

Lucky Number 7 by zipadeea (on ao3)

Lily Evans thought life at Hogwarts was busy enough for her, what with Prefect duties and N.E.W.T classes and meetings with the Slug Club. Then, Marlene convinces her to try out for the Gryffindor quidditch team.

Written because James was a Chaser, and I'm convinced Harry's athletic abilities come from both sides of the family tree.

crawl home by @annabtg

He doesn’t know if he’s alive or dead. All he knows is that he wants to go home.

Exhale by @petalsthefish

"Shhh," James leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. "I’m so sorry, but I have to set the bones again. It’s okay to cry, you're doing so well. So well, baby."

"Fuck," she whimpered through her tears. "I hate this."

"I know, I know," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I hate this too, sweetheart."

Masquerade also by petalsthefish

James was going to jinx Sarah Hitchkes.

It was Sarah Hitchkes who conceived the entire idea, driven by two main motives. First, it was a fun and creative way for everyone to showcase their Patronuses. Second, it gave her the perfect excuse to throw a massive party. Scheduled for July 31st at her sprawling estate, the event was open to all the sixth- and seventh-year students. She dubbed it the “Patronus Party,” and it was set to be the social highlight of the summer—provided you could produce a corporeal Patronus.

this trope will always be a favorite of mine

Coincidence also by petalsthefish

“You look miserable.” Mary commented, noting Lily’s bored expression.

"I need to make out with someone like I need to breathe." Lily Evans hissed as she swirled her butterbeer and peered around the bar.

"James Potter's free."

In Their Short Time by @hogwartslivy

It was one hell of a love story. One that had a most tragic, untimely ending. They could never have guessed as mere children sitting across from one another on the train, all excitement and nerves and emotions, that their stories, all hopes and fears and loves, were to be forever intertwined.

Something Old Something New by @chiechie97

Weddings are the most beautiful things in the world. Unless you accidentally end up at your ex... somethings house to play violin at a family wedding.

Lily Evans just wants to get payed and go home to her cat. Perhaps she should have asked more questinos about the location and clients of her string quartets latest gig.

It’s Always You by @joyseuphoria

5 times jily kissed before they started dating

I'll keep your brittle heart warm by Iphigenniaa (on ao3)

Lily Evans didn't have to wash the blood off her hands that night, but she did have to wash the burning odor from her clothes, which seemed to soak even her own insides.

A Life With You by @kay-elle-cee

A Jily Lives AU collection of small moments from Hogwarts onwards, using the 31 Jilytober tumblr prompts.

7, 8, 10, 11, 12, 15, 17, 18, 20, 22, 24, 29 and 30 are my favourites

don't forget me by blackcanarys (on ao3)

At the height of the First Wizarding War, Lily Evans finds herself contemplating life, death and her mortality after a routine Order mission in 1978.

It's All Politics by acciosalmon (on ao3)

The most constant emotional sentiment in Lily's Hogwarts career was her complete and utter loathing of one William Mulciber

I have yet to read this one, but it was recomended to me because it explores how jily's power dynamic is altered when James isn't potraied as white but Lily is

[writing-with-sophia]

Writing a novel: Step by step

Most writers aspire to publish at least one book in their lifetime, but writing a novel is not easy. From new writers to experienced writers who have published hundreds of books, everyone must follow a step-by-step process to create their work. These steps are based on the wisdom of famous writers, so while they may not be entirely definitive, they will certainly be helpful to you.

Step 1: Generate ideas

Start by generating ideas for your novel. This can involve brainstorming, keeping a journal of potential story concepts, or drawing inspiration from real-life experiences, books, movies, or current events.

Once you get an idea, hone it.

Step 2: Create characters

A novel cannot be successful without unique and charming characters. Create compelling and well-rounded characters for your novel. Develop their backgrounds, motivations, personalities, and relationships. Consider their strengths, flaws, and how they will evolve throughout the story.

Remember, the more realistic the characters, the better the novel will be.

Step 3: Build setting

Establish the setting or world in which your novel takes place. Whether it's a real location or a fictional world, provide enough descriptive details to immerse readers and make the setting feel vivid and believable.

Step 4: Define plot and make an outline

What is your story about? How will it unfold? How does it begin, develop, and conclude? What and how many scenes will be included? Make an depth and very depth outline, even going so far as to outline every chapter.

Step 5: Write

Begin writing your first draft. Don't worry about perfection; the goal is to get the story down on paper. Embrace the creative process and let the ideas flow. Please remember, don't go back and make changes. Just write!

Step 6: Revise and edit

Once the first draft is complete, take a break (for 3 days) before revising and editing. (This will keep you from overediting or not editing enough.) Then, read through your manuscript with a critical eye, focusing on plot holes, inconsistencies, pacing, character development, and overall storytelling. Revise and rewrite sections as needed.

Step 7: Get beta readers

(You must) seek feedback from trusted individuals, such as beta readers, writing critique groups or your friends. Their input can provide valuable perspectives on areas that may need improvement. Consider their suggestions while maintaining your unique voice and vision for the story.

Step 8: Polish and refine

Polish and refine your novel based on the feedback received. Pay attention to sentence structure, grammar, punctuation, and overall prose. Ensure clarity and coherence in your writing.

Step 9: Publish

You can research different publishing options, such as traditional publishing or self-publishing. Remember to evaluate the pros and cons of each approach and decide which is the best fit for your goals and circumstances.

That's all. I hope you success in publishing your novel!!

If you want to read more posts about writing, please click here and give me a follow!

[jilyawards]

November & December

Whispers in the Dark (completed, 7.7k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

When Lily is awarded her prefect badge in fifth year, they warn her that James Potter has a talent for disappearing... but if that's true, why does he keep coming to her night after night, hoping to be caught?

A Hundred Visions and Revisions (completed, 1.9k) by @yallthemwitches. Rated T.

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

Right Timing (completed, 5.3k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

“Maybe I’m waiting for the right one,” he says, shrugging lightly, his gaze steady and intent on her. The words catch her off guard, landing heavily in her chest. She forces a laugh, rolling her eyes as though to wave it away. “That’s a bit idealistic, don’t you think?” James nods thoughtfully. “Most of the time, yeah. But sometimes… I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s possible.”

snowy night and christmas lights (WIP, 5.6k as of 31 December 2024) by @juniperpyre. Rated G.

“Oh, Evans, you wound me. Now we’re both suffering.” He looked happier than she’d seen him in weeks. “At least we have each other.” Lily’s lips twitched into a smile. James and Lily are the only 5th year Gryffindors staying at the castle for Christmas.

Troubling Time (WIP, 2.9k as of 31 December 2024) by @potterwitch4-ao3. Rated T.

It all begins with the idea of an adventure. But it all ends with chaos ensued by Time.

The Potter Pointe Shop (completed, 20.4k) by @ginnyw-potter. Rated E.

James works in the Potter Pointe Shop together with his father. Every pointe shoe is an ode to his late mother and ballet dancer Euphemia. When the talented ballet dancer Lily walks in to pick up her shoes, James quickly realises he is completely and utterly lost for her. His father's encouragement only stresses him out more. Someone messes with her pointe shoes during the day of her dress rehearsal and James takes it upon himself do to an emergency delivery. Prequel to the Hinny fic 'Pas de Deux'.

on the next train (completed, 1.7k) by @gigglesandfreckles-hp. Rated T.

“Come on, mate.” Sirius pushes off the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets as he steps closer. “You know I don’t need the map to find you when you’re brooding. Not after all this time.”

revenge and rodents (completed, 3k) by shinyruby. Rated G.

“What’s all this? Remus?” Mrs. Potter has now turned to her and Remus and is scrutinizing them like a particularly fascinating puzzle she wants to solve. “Hullo, Mrs. Potter, Mr. Potter,” Remus is slightly pink, and goes even pinker when Mrs. Potter embraces him and plants a kiss on his head with an admonishing “It’s Euphemia, Remus, as you very well know.” Lily wants to melt into the floor.

[laidraws]

CapIron Big Bang 2024

Read A Hundred Visions and Revisions! (+2 illustrations below)

Ship: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Rating: M Summary: In the age of Galilei's discoveries, Tony is fascinated by the prospect of a larger universe. Steve is one of the conservatives trying to keep the old world view alive. Their new favorite subject is dragging each other's opinions through the mud in their poems, and Tony is more than happy to feed into this feud. Because he hates Rogers. Hates his poetry, his sharp wit, his handsome smile, his – Oh, wait.

(Also sorry I deleted the previous post and reposted and still can't get the ao3 reformat to work)

I worked with @kandisheek on the cap iron big bang 2024 and we are delighted to bring you the finished work! If you like astronomy, historical fics, poetry, and romance, please give this one a read. Thank you so much!

[bridenore]

Author rec : Oflights

Oflights is one of my favorite authors. Here are a few recs, listed in alphabetical order.

all the western stars by @oflights [78k]

Draco is a Seer who has been struck with terrible, uncontrollable visions of the deaths of everyone around him, triggered by touch. He retreats to an Unplottable Black family cottage to research his condition and fix it. Things are going relatively well until Harry Potter shows up at the cottage with a furry condition of his own.

along each garden wall by @oflights [61k]

Draco has to have a baby (or have one on the way) at the time of his fast-approaching 35th birthday, or he's going to lose his home to his vile cousin. Harry offers to help, but their complex past—even beyond Hogwarts—prompts Draco to set out on a long journey of friendship, kittens, gardens, motorbike rides, and more.

Close Behind by @oflights [134k]

To rescue Draco from the Underworld, Harry has to look forward. Unfortunately, Draco has to look back.

Cool About It by @oflights [134k]

Harry is so excited for his first date with Draco. But what follows isn't so much a date as it is an all-night odyssey including a malevolent lift, a Gringotts heist, a Sleeping Curse, a trip to the kebab shop, a lack of dancing, a Muggle drug, a rooftop pool party, a black eye and, eventually, a sunrise over a Quidditch stadium.

find a new place to be from by @oflights [47k]

Something is wrong with Malfoy Manor, and it’s driven Draco into the Muggle world. Thankfully, Harry is now on the case. A story about houses that haunt you and homes built for two.

A Hundred Visions and Revisions by @oflights [11k]

Harry doesn’t really like remembering. As he’s grown older, he’s found that discovering or creating or even making things up are all much less painful than remembering.

if the bees know by @oflights [19k]

Scorpius’ playground is haunted, Harry specializes in helping ghosts pass on, and Draco just wants his son to be safe.

Make This Leap by @oflights [118k]

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

On Fingers Broken Long Ago by @oflights [85k+]

After a ten year absence, Harry returns to his old life in England to find Draco Malfoy at the center of it. A tale of rekindling old flames, unlikely inter-House alliances, angry Hufflepuffs, and medical mysteries ensues. Bound to Linger by @oflights [20k+] Sequel to On Fingers Broken Long Ago; Draco is campaigning for a board seat, Harry still hates Zacharias, and a dragon pox outbreak hits the second floor staff, so nobody has time for anything. Oh, and then there's maple syrup. Tunnel by @oflights [15k+] Sequel to On Fingers Broken Long Ago; see notes and warnings for more details. A history of loss makes Draco fear the future, even the golden one he sees with Harry.

The Star Splitter by @oflights [219k]

On a routine time travel assignment to the past, Draco stumbles upon 7-year-old Harry Potter and witnesses his neglect and mistreatment by the Dursleys. In the moment, there is only one solution, even if it goes against all his training as a Time Agent: he has to bring Harry back to the future with him. In which Draco burns his life down for the sake of his former school rival.

we have heard on high by @oflights [34k]

Reeling from the fallout of a bad breakup, Harry decides to find out who his soulmate is. The bad news: it’s Draco Malfoy. The good news: Malfoy doesn’t seem to know they’re soulmates. The worst news: Harry might be falling for him anyway.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

[yallthemwitches]

A Hundred Visions and Revisions

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

Rated T, Read below the cut or on AO3 Here!

Like usual, she’s already splayed herself across the couch, too enraptured in her book to notice the portrait hole swing open. Spotting her, he makes a show of staggering across the room, dropping his broom idly to the floor with a groan while soaking in the way her lips twitch behind the page in an attempt to ignore him. Making it around the couch, he gives no preamble and collapses against her with an oof, enjoying her small squeaks of surprise as he nuzzles his face into her clavicle. 

“Practice was bad?” Her eyes settle back on the page and a hand finds its way into his hair, fingering the ends that have been shocked into fractured points by the winter wind. 

“Horrible, awful, downright contemptible.”

“That many adjectives, huh.” 

He grunts, scooting his body down further so his head is cradled into her chest, arms snaking around her sides to find the place where her shirt has gotten untucked to draw circles into skin. It has become a tradition of sorts—she waits for him after practice, holding court in front of the common room fireplace and making herself look too irresistible to not fall into the second he returns. It’s a shame they only have one year of school left to enjoy it. 

 She tries to go back to reading, but he continues to sigh, each more theatrical than the last, fingers starting to tickle and pinch at her waist rather than caress. 

“If you want attention, just say so,” she says behind the book, mouth pressed into a tight line but her eyes sparkling.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just lay here…suffering.”

She snorts, and he presses a victory smile into her skin. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Apparently not spoiled enough to get a little love from my girlfriend in my time of need.” He groans, wiggling his hips against her.

“When are you not in your time of need.” She murmurs, deadpan, but her hand moves to the back of his neck, slowly massaging the muscles that hide just under his tangle of hair. She feels him relax under her ministrations, finally abandoning his ‘woe is me’ act to let his body meld against hers. 

“What are you reading?” He asks after moments of silence, eyes fluttering closed from the rise and fall of her chest. 

“Oh, some book about sex magic. Some absolute nutter muggle wrote it—complete madness but fun to read.”

“Sex Magic you say?”  Suddenly he is wide awake, propping himself up and arching an eyebrow from over the book. She eyes him warily and tries to ignore the fingers that have wasted no time to drift upwards and play with the buttons of her shirt. He swoops down, pressing his lips to her neck. 

“Don’t get so excited, Potter. It’s a load of bunk.”

He hums, already undoing her topmost button and moving to kiss the skin there. 

“I dunno—-maybe we should test it out first…get a first hand account.” He gets another button undone and she makes a noise between a laugh and a moan. 

“I’m not very keen on being topless in the middle of the common room so if you could kindly quit it—-“

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” he quips back and enjoys the view of her skin flushing from her cheeks all the way past where he can see under her uniform. 

“James.”

“Fine,” he whines. He stops his progress on her shirt and gives her exposed sternum one last kiss before settling his head back down, hands moving back to encircle her.

“You’re a tease, Evans. A dirty, rotten siren taking advantage of my poor knackered heart.”

She cradles him against her, letting one hand slide back through his hair while the other caresses his back. She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again. 

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling low beside them. She can feel James’ breath start to steady against her, somehow keeping his grip tight on her despite sleep setting in.

“Hey James?” 

“Hmmm?” He nestles his nose down into her, hands grasping tighter at her waist. 

“Have you thought about it at all?”

“Shagging in the common room? All the time.”

She snorts, shaking him a bit. “No, you git—about Dumbledore’s offer.”

His eyes remain closed but his mouth sinks into a small line against her. 

“Nothing to think about—-I’m all in.”

She fidgets under him and the bottom of his jersey rides up, exposing some of his midriff. Absent-mindedly, she runs her hand over the skin, rubbing anxious circles.

“And your offer from the Canons? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“When the war is over, I can try out again.” 

“And if they don’t let you?”

He props up on his chin, looking up to see her staring off beyond the common room. “Then I’ll look into another profession– like magical artifacts or becoming your indentured servant.”

He expects her to crack a smile at his joke, but her eyes continue to look away, seeing something that feels much bigger than job prospects.

“Lily?”

She shakes her head like trying to dispel smoke. He sits up, swinging her legs so they now rest over his, hips flush together. Taking her cheek in his palm, he forces her to look at him and he sees tears just harboring past the surface. 

“I know it’s silly—but can you tell me the future? The way you see it.” she whispers, curling into him so the top of her head can rest right under his chin, book falling abandoned down onto the floor. She knows he’s no divination master–she’s seen his grades to prove it—but they both know that’s not what she’s asking.

“Well–” 

He stares into the fire, watching as the embers slowly lower and diminish one by one. It’s hard to ignore the feeling of encapsulation–that they are just children needing to concoct stories to make it all worth it. Her fingers play with the bottom of his jersey, anxiously awaiting his turn to spin this night’s fable, probably one of many before the war lets up.

“Well, first and most important, we will still be madly in love—sickenly so.” 

She makes a noise and he can feel a smile break through for the first time that evening. 

“Sickenly you say? Says who?”

“Says everyone who is jealous that they can’t be us. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you as it is our current reality—obviously.”

“Obviously.” she echoes, before muttering arrogant under her breath. 

“We will fight for the Order, beat out Voldemort, and have an incredible victory shag afterwards—”

She hums against his chest and he can feel some of the warmth coming back to her.

“Who knew it was so simple—have you told Dumbledore this strategy?” She turns her head up to flick his nose and he kisses the tip of hers in return. 

“I did–he was shocked he never thought of it actually–said the last bit was particularly vital…”

She can’t help but laugh. “Sometimes it’s like your head deflated but landed right in the gutter.” 

She continues to look up at him, eyes getting more brilliant as her tension melts.  “Go on then—Voldemort’s miraculously easy defeat, victory shag…ok what else?”

He lowers his lips to her ear and lets them skim against the shell. “We get married.”

Suddenly both of their heartbeats fall into overdrive. He flashes his eyes down to see her cheeks are bubbling with pink, eyes wide and targeted right at him. 

“And what part of the sequence does that occur?” Her voice is barely a whisper and he notices her hands have stalled against him, frozen mid-fiddle with the fabric. 

“Well,” he knows she can feel his heart jumping against her, but he doesn’t care, “I was hoping during the exposition or rising action portion of the plot rather than the conclusion.”

Her eyes are dancing, surely from the fire that continues to drop beads of light into her hair and face. 

“And you don’t think that’s…unwise, seeing we’ve only been dating officially five months.”

His eyes meet hers, now devoid of jest.

“It’s not like being wise has ever been in my wheelhouse anyways.”

She could fight it—tell him it’s a mad idea to be thinking about marriage at a time like this, in a time where every passing day seems less sure than the last. But something about it feels too enticing to pass up—the image of them in a home all their own, sitting just like they are now but more solid and sure of themselves, leaning into the domesticity and adoration of it all because they can. 

 She worries if she ruminates on it too much, it will be painful to let go when the time comes.

“And we won’t bicker?”

“Not anymore than married people do—or we do now I guess I should say.”

“And you will make me breakfast everyday, in bed?” 

“Evans, if you’re my wife I’ll do anything anything you ask of me. My occupation is indentured servant, remember?” He is trying to stay light, but she can tell he means it. 

She wishes she could dream like he can—see beyond the rubbish and focus solely on the parts that can work. It’s simultaneously what she is jealous of and admires in him, the bright side is always where he wants to be. 

“James—” Its a warning: a warning that perhaps he is flying too close to the sun. A warning that perhaps it’s too tempting not to accept it. A warning that at this moment, it might be too much. 

But she doesn't need to say anymore. He pulls her closer to his chest, catching the top of her head under the crook of his chin and locking her there against him. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t me proposing—just…just dreaming.” He lets the last word hang there, and Lily watches the image of them in their house with their happy life become clouded and technicolor. A fantasy. 

Suddenly, the thought of losing it terrifies her. 

“A good dream—a nice dream.,” She doesn’t know who she is assuring more, herself or him. “Something I want too.”

She feels his body heat rise, hands finding the end strands of her hair and curling his fingers through them. 

“Yeah?” His hope, like most other aspects of him, is contagious.

“Don’t get too excited Potter—there’s a lot that can happ—“

“Shh, Evans,” he says, grabbing her face, hands shaking with unparalleled joy. In his eyes the dream still lingers and she doesn’t want to ever look away.

“Let me kiss you—our dream can wait, but let me kiss you now.” 

[bronzeagepizzeria]

Rose is no scientist. She’s got no A-levels and she never went to college, but she thinks the Universe is governed by a handful of simple principles, yeah? What goes around, comes around. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. The Universe gives and the Universe takes away. There’s a Doctor in her bedroom, in this world, and there’s her Doctor, missing.

AU: What if the Toymaker switched the Fifteenth Doctor and the Metacrisis Doctor?

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

[ttulipwritezz]

Rules huh? pt.2

Sirius Black x James's sister reader

warnings: James being oblivious, date, the nickname "love", not revised very well.

tysm for over a hundred likes on the last part skkdhskjd

pt1 ,pt3

Synopsis: you fell for your brother's best friend...what happens next in this situation?

"well...if it isn't Miss Potter"

"What do you want black" You had more matters to attend to than the raven-haired boy beside you, despite how badly you wanted to humor him for the moment and simultaneously piss off your brother.

"Ouch, last name basis are we?"

"You called me Potter" you half asked-half stated with an amused expression

"Miss Potter"

You laughed. A small scoff-like one but a laugh nonetheless. Truth be told it's not like his "joke" was funny at all, far from it even. It's just that Sirius had this charm, this capability to make anyone and everyone smile the moment he entered their vision.

"Isn't that worse? Also, aren't you afraid my brother's gonna give you another lecture? I assume he didn't spare you the last one, you know when he saw you blow me a kiss during dinner.?"

"Oh my, I am offended that you think that way of me, potter! And for the record, I did receive a lecture"

He said with a hand clasped over his chest in mock offense

"Besides, James is at quidditch practice right now love"

Oh, how your stomach flipped at the nickname.

Love

It almost made you consider giving in to the black charm

if it weren't for your brother's little-

"Ahem"

Sirius jumped back startled, you almost laughed out loud at that, though saving it just in time for your brother to ask for an explanation.

"Padfoot? Care to explain why you're around my sister and not at practice?"

James's tone wasn't pleased in the least.

However, it seemed as though Sirius had met with the same fate not too long ago, and he handled it with ease.

"I was just going to ask miss potter where you were, prongs, I was gonna inform you about me not being at practice.'

"And why were you not at it?"

"Uhhh....-"

"-he had potions homework and didn't want to suffer another lecture from Slughorn so I found him in the library"

Luckily potions was not a class the two fifth years shared.

"And how do you know that"

... sometimes James lacks common sense...

"I asked James...asked. Didn't I just tell you I bumped into him at the library?"

Luckily your brother's words were Always predictable to you.

"Whatever Padfoot don't be missing practice for homework next time," He said almost shuddering at the word homework.

~~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, it seemed as though things had changed with Sirius.

You didn't feel normal, your heart thumped against your chest every moment he came around, and worst of all he was forbidden.

It felt wrong to feel this way... God y/n he's your brother's best friend for Merlin's sake. But why do I keep thinking about how he called me love. Does he call anyone else that?

The weeks had been nothing but filled with wholesome exchanges, James had been kind of oblivious to this subtle change in both your demeanors, being too engrossed with Lily at the moment.

He failed to see the way Sirius smiled subconsciously when you were around, the trips to the Library might have stopped but he'd still always catch a glimpse of you in the halls, still staring at you during dinner and still staying the same old flirt.

In fact, His feelings may have been stronger than he had intended.

~~~~~

"You know black you're quite the unwelcome bug I see lingering around all the time."

You were sitting in the common room reading a book when you felt the couch beside you dip and lo and behold the raven-haired boy was back.

"You know love, I happen to..."

He takes a second to pause and look at your book title

"-love that book .. it's one of my favorites"

"Right....and I suppose you know what this book is about then?"

Defeated he didn't argue any further...

" Ok alright, I do not... But-" he started

"What do you want black?" You said remembering how upset your brother was earlier in the halls, though it gave you a bitter feeling to talk to him this way.

"Hogsmeade....me and you?"

That was kind of all he managed to get out but fortunately, you got the memo

"You're asking me out?...you do know James would be furious?"

"I simply do not care, give me a chance y/n...I promise I will make sure your brother approves of me. He's my best friend and hurting him would be the last thing I'd do. Trust me."

"Alright...see you the day after tomorrow at noon."

Curtly nodding you left without much.

But the tiny little "yess" followed by a fist in the air was enough to form a small smile on your face.

A/n: oh god this is awful and so rushed sjdkashjs, tysm for over a hundred notes in the last part!

Should there be a part three with James's reaction and the actual relationship dynamic between the two?

[askreistar]

I recently have gotten into Fallout & have always loved MLP so to see a Fallout au is amazing! I feel like Twilight Sparkle would work for The Institute if she was in Fallout

I wanted to throw on a lab coat here. But cloths on pony’s is weird to me cx lol

No but I see your vision. I see her however, in the timeline of fallout 4. Hundreds of years after. With no friends left around or even the surface of equestria.

In my head cannon. She’s more tomboyish to help her deal with the stresses and loneliness.

Spends apt of her time tinkering in the labs on old world tech that she’s familiar with and remembers.

And or revising old medical procedures and techniques and reviving medical care for sick or disabled pony’s.

I could see her also going down the bad route and becoming the type to replace pony’s with synths xD

[plasticfangtastic]

American Royalty. Ch. 7

A Homelander X F! Reader/dadlander fanfic

A/N: if ya like to be included in the taglist plz leave a request comment, prev. chapters can be found in my pin post and the link below... i'll be updating my pin post after chapter 8 or 9 so they're not so scattered-- thanks to all readers hope y'all like it. I have officially finished writing this story so I should be posting them more regularly.

tags: mild gore, angst, slow burn, fluff, OC characther, child neglect, dadlander, romance, toxic relationship... a bit of spicy in this chapter.

Chapter Seven

Sharp.

One of the men who looked to be a scientist– and who seemed completely detached from the situation, caught your attention.

“The V. Homelander.” he said, hiding his irritation poorly.

“The kid returned them to me. I left them at the gymnasium. Dropped some. The matter is sorted.” He spat, not giving him a second look, his gaze solely focused on you.

The man swallowed heavily slowly turning towards you, as you stared blankly back at him you noticed the chubby man had been carrying your daughter's sparkly backpack.

“Your daughter. I need to speak to her.” He said hastily.

“You don’t need to” Homelander blocked his vision, standing between you two enraged that he wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Is… Is okay…” Your hands were shaking as you pushed him out the way– my daughter did something really wrong…” You turned to Nigel, your voice wavering as you tried to muster the courage to speak– I am so sorry… I… I’m sorry” You choked.

You had no choice but to take her out of Vought, you knew you could never dream of paying off whatever damages your daughter had incurred on your name, V had to cost a couple hundred-thousands to millions if you had to take a guess, and whatever strange feelings you had a second ago were buried deep with the violent onslaught of anxiety assaulting you– you knew you would be back on the streets if not in jail by the end of the week.

You clutched at your hands feeling your whole body trembling, a sudden jolt traversing across your body as Homelander wrapped an arm across your shoulders trying to contain your relentless shivering, his far away voice told you to take a deep breath, whispering to you words that your ears didn’t quite catch, patiently instructing you to tranquilize to no avail.

“Your daughter, she wrote this.”

The man mustered all his bravery to take a notepad out of her backpack and approach you with it not caring that Homelander was holding you posessively, you looked up towards the item, taking it in your hand– lots of formulas and calculations, her handwriting blocky and messy, but every page was filled with more and more things that you could frankly not decipher– it might as well been hieroglyphics.

“Sorry I don’t understand this.” You were hesitant to hand it back.

“Your daughter managed to do this!.” He went to a particular page of the pad, flicking it in your hands– this… this is a revised version of a new product we had been developing… a new version of V… Your daughter is not in trouble… quite the opposite we would like to extend an olive branch– am so sorry security handled this so poorly.”

Both you and Homelander had matching expressions, both confused as to these sudden changes.

Nigel gasped in relief as Elmo came running towards his father dragging Helena behind him. The man could have hit the child if you weren’t there, he took his son in one swift sweep, holding him tight trying not to sound upset as he kissed him, looking down to find Helena panting behind, the kid hugged his father but didn’t cry��  simply turning to see if Helena was still there.

“Don’t look at me like that.” She replied before the kid rolled his eyes– those guns were loaded y’know.”

“Won’t hurt me” The kid muttered– hurt you lots tho.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, before finally acknowledging your existence. Peeking at the mess around her and the decapitated head on the other end of the hallway that Elmo completely ignored, she bit her cheek letting a loud ‘Tch’ spit out.

“Before you scream at me– The chump had nothing to do with it, I simply asked for his services in exchange for candy. Second…” A bubble pop above her hand dropping a half-used vial of Compound V– here” She threw at the scientist.

“Is almost empty!”

“I used it, duh” She wasn’t apologetic in the least– now you can scream at me.” she gestures to you to procceed.

You dropped on your knees pulling her into your arms in a vicious and desperate embrace, your heart beating so hard she could feel it thumping against her white sweater, you tried not looking at the empty stare of the decapitated head on the other side of the hall… it was your fault that man had died, you thought. Yet you were glad Homelander had killed him. Glad he had done one right thing for her.

“You have a lot of explaining to do.” Homelander said without actually caring, he was glad to see her unharmed, seeking for any scuff marks or bruises with his X-Ray vision.

Your daughter looked at the scientist then at her belongings.

“I fixed it… your C.V24… in theory of course. Technically you were on the right track with V25 but my formula should reduce the side effects by 76% percent not 67%… would be down to 85% if I had more time.” She strokes your back in circular motions to fake reassurance– sorry for acting like a kid… I did a stupid.”

The man clenched his jaw then looked back at the notes, the formula in theory could be the pathway to finding a solution to all their troubles, Homelander mouth dropping in disbelief.

“What do you mean you fixed it?” He asked.

“Your original formula is a death trap… a shit dilution of V– all bark no bite… your stabilizing was the issue… V is a beast with a mind of its own… even your current serum is a mess… you could even program it to dictate a power if your men used their brains for once– so I decided to do that… now Elmo can fly.”

Nigel's eyes widened.

“You… You experimented on your friend?” You asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse.

Your daughter's eyes blip blue as she gives you a discomforting smile, you didn’t know if you should hold her or take a step away.

“I was thinking of administering the new serum as a pill or like an LSD sticker.” She wriggled away from you and towards Elmo as his father took a step away from those shimmering blue eyes– show him Elmo.”

Elmo nodded obediently with a light push he wiggled upwards and floated close to the ceiling.

“I was aiming for laser or pyrokinesis but again I only had a couple weeks to come out with the formulas… had I had more time.” she grumbled.

“You gave him V25?” Homelander asked, plucking the kid by the leg down to eye level– how…?”

“Nah I gave him my new V serum… I gave it to him like two hours ago… I was working on the V.C 26 on paper but I was messing with V… altho if the mices I worked with are any indication– he might still explode in three hours give or take”

Her nonchalant tone was matched by a small kid who seemed far too exhausted with her, Elmo dropped to the ground. Homelander was mostly in awe that the kid could fly after only two hours and based on her heartbeat she wasn’t telling the truth entirely, but he kept it to himself for the moment.

“He could explode! You could’ve killed him already!” The scientist spoke on your behalf looking at the child horrified.

“Maybe you should’ve kept him in the labs instead of dragging us here… bit rich for you to care considering you experiment on people all the time without their consent…. Sage Grove, Elmira… Godolkin… should I keep going? Great timing to grow a conscience, clown.” 

She took her bag off his hands, and her pad.

“Left you a sample if you'd like to test it out… hope you copied it because I ain’t giving it to you for free”

“That’s Vought property!” He tried taking the notepad from her hand, she jumped back lifting her chin for a thick invisible wall to divide the space– you little–

An invisible force maneuvers him flat against the wall, his cheeks pressed comically against the translucent sheet.

“Am I in trouble?” She looked at her father.

“Can you squeeze him flat?” He asked, looking curiously at the scene.

“Can hold back a thousand gallons… what do you think?” 

“Let him go. Get the kid under observation and let’s see what this nerd wants.” He said with a jovial tone.

It was like a scene of a bad movie, you were simply forced to watch as they both bonded over their mutual awfulness– the rest of the evening became a blur, your body had moved but you weren’t piloting it, sounds measly echoes as you followed them around, occasionally catching Nigel and now presumably his husband Sven talking as he had joined the party by the time you noticed you had arrived in the labs… unsure when/how you got here.

Your body observed as Helena dragged the scientist and now a small posse of coated men to discuss her work, you left to sit alone in one of the rooms.

The lights were low, and at some stage Homelander had come in– it was painfully silent until he arrived, but you were just there, half-alive.

“What are you looking at?” Homelander said in a hushed voice as he touched you with a naked hand– can you tell me?”

“There’s a scratch on that metal panel” your voice is so quiet it scares him slightly.

His hand was so light on your shoulder, as if it was hovering instead of being there, he took a chair and pushed it to your side, you both sat together as you scrunched up his cape once he offered you the tip, your hands unconsciously picking up the fabric– the texture like thick culderog.

“We took the kid to Disneyland then the kid acted like they were at Disneyland and we got upset about it.” He said, Homelander’s hand atop of yours as you fidgeted– is okay, daddy has taken care of it, you are not in trouble, baby.” his voice was slightly mocking but it was trying to crack a bad joke– not to insult you.

He leaned against you, feeling the sharp metal edges of his eagles against your shoulders. You started to blink harshly trying to push away the fog with this discomfort, his arm on your hip as he rested his chin atop of your head– he was pulling you into a side-hug, meeting no resistance to his surprise.

“You don’t have to worry 'bout anything.” His voice is warm– am a hero, remember?”

“That kid is going to die…” you whimpered.

“Elmo Cripple is perfectly fine.”

“She didn’t care.” Your voice, starting to crack once again.

“She’s a very confident young lady.” he grimaces– a tad too confident if I say so myself… but you should hear her talking to those guys right now, is incre— I have no idea what she’s saying.”

“Welcome to my life” You nuzzled yourself against him, he was so warm, you could remember the heat– I… I don’t know what I am going to do with her?” You sobbed lightly.

“Let her pursue her dreams while supervised so we don’t have to deal with potential murder charges.”

He tried to make you laugh with his tone but all you could muster was staring back at him with a furrowed brow, your tears staining your cheeks already.

“‘Phantasma and Poltergeist’ I don’t how I feel about our kid being in a team-up… even if the competition isn’t steep– It’ll get difficult as she gets older but then again I don’t want Ryan to compete directly with her for the spotlight, its two different markets with completely different appeals.”

“I don’t want to talk about her being a superhero when we haven’t even handled this…” you said, holding back a sob, trying to clean your face against him.

“... ‘we’?” His hands gave your side a squeeze as his other took your hands more gently making sure to rub your dried knuckles– I think we can handle this, Y/N… we can keep a short leash on her… from now on– rely on me… you deserve that."

Staring back at her happily explaining her process, enjoying seeing the group of Phds feelings of inferiority coloring their faces, it was obvious that she shouldn’t even be in the 10th grade, simply staying behind for your well-being, but just how big was her IQ– how much more smarter was she? 

Homelander wanted to see his bouquet of peonies set as the centerpiece she was meant to be, to let her shine as she deserved.

You pulled on his wrist wanting to be held more, it didn’t matter if it was your shitty ex-boyfriend or not, you wanted affectioness, longing for empathy and gentleness.

You already had been kissing– in public no less! He had plans of holding you hostage until you agreed to play house with him, Homelander already testing the waters by making your children play together. Maybe it was your survival mechanism ill-timing but your mind desperately demanded a distraction, your lips were still able to taste peppermint, so your mind wandered south– possibly because that golden belt buckle was perfectly in your sight.

Frankly the last time you had a date was when Helena was five, they were cute, visited Lucci a couple times before asking for your number, the dates were great and the last time you had sex was with this guy before he dumped you, you thought they’ve potential and your wrist had taken enough abuse over the years– if anything you had given up your womanhood, too tired and focused with rearing lil’ Einstein to notice your needs, sleeping with this cutie wasn’t terrible but the moment the word “Freak” was uttered in reference to your kid– you were throwing their shit out the window. 

For the first time since she was born you found yourself not alone and supported, your friends had seen you like you carrier of pestilence affecting their jobs by virtue of association, your inability to find employment quickly burdened your friends and relatives, your family and yourself had not seen eye-to-eye for years, your relationship cracking deep enough to touch the abyss once you came home pregnant with no man behind you, then it was out the door after a couple weeks, even the kid didn’t appease them later down the track.

Could he really be relied on? Money was but a gesture of good will– covering for your kid for stealing maybe millions of dollars of god’s own spunk, and potentially getting your daughter acquitted for murder. Now that might be worth a blowie.

And he hurt your jaw quite graciously.

You looked up straight into his face, he had been talking for god knows how long without you noticing, and took his face.

Tasting like spearmint and iron, he was hesitant at first unsure if the timing was good but quickly relented as your tongue got more demanding, his hands now had no clue where to sit or what to touch but he let you take the lead. 

You tousled and pulled on his hair, wanting to get him close to you, to feel something good from him for once.

He pushed you lightly as he heard your daughter's steps encroaching, he stood up with a light blush on his ears as he pointed at the door, you looked up wanting to say something but there she was with a big grin on her face and her chest bouncing with excitement.

“You proud of yourself?” Did you ask her or yourself, there?-- If your friend dies…”

“Elmo won’t die… not on a microdose of V. for fuck sakes this company sold diluted V for a G-Fuel collab!”

“You say that but you had never actually worked with V until now! Do you have any idea what you were doing!?”

She looked at the desk nearby, the little GP office setting in this room sort of amusing.

“No. Got a little too eager when I found the playground, it’s sort of a cruel joke for me to be able to make myself invisible, and be in the same building as all of this” She gestured to her surroundings– just because I'm smart doesn’t mean I have the emotional intelligence of an adult to match… So?”

“Do whatever you want Helena… I can’t… I can’t with you… just–

Homelander turned to you, concerned at your tone, it was harsh. Where you giving up on her? He though.

You buried your face beneath your hands, trying to calm down.

“I won’t kill anybody, I'm not interested in that.”

“So what are you interested in?” You argue smacking your back flat on the back of the seat– please enlighten me!?”

“Vought.” Homelander interjects– oh you’re clever…”

He picks her up, poking her nose, there’s an air of comfort in his gesture, as if he always had done so.

“You're a scheming little munchkin.” he squeezes her cheeks jokingly– this isn’t Game of Thrones, darling. Daddy will take care of you”

“You mean the shareholders will take care of me once they realize you can re-open Stan Edgar’s plan to get into the US military… then the police force. Thanks to me.” She gives him a peck on the cheek– but don’t forget I’m not an only child.”

Homelander was blindsided by such a gesture, between you two he was in a tight spot.

Still he was entering heaven as his heart skipped a beat or two, feeling his daughter clung to him, feeling how dangerously light she was, how cute she was, how perfect she was.

Your daughter and yourself stayed silent during that drive home, the radio louder than usual, only when you reached your home did you act, stopping her belt-buckle from coming undone.

“You asked me to play a role in your game without a script– had to improvise.”

“Don’t give me that. You did something horrific Helena! I can't even believe you!” you snapped, your daughter frowned in return as you smacked your palms on the steering wheel– just admit you wanted to do it!”

“I did. I wanted to explore those labs. I like looking at things at Vought– it's stimulating! you want me to get “dad” to love me, no? He loves Vought! I'm just his bastard competing againts the son he’s loved for longer! so I show interest in the one thing he loves other than himself to have an advantage!”

“You went too far!!” you snapped.

“I am not sleeping in a car ever again, Y/N!!” She turned to you with rage in her sight– we are not going back! So you do your thing and I do my thing.”

You let go of her belt buckle.

“You hurt people.” you whispered, pain palpable in your lips, trying to not scream, to not slap her, to stay calm as your daughter heaved angrily, as her eyes glowed intensely.

“I haven’t– Elmo Cripple is alive… so far the only one that’s been hurt is me!!”

She gritted her teeth, the air growing thin inside your old station wagon.

“What is ‘Poltergeist’ getting out of this? He’s not like you.” You didn’t want to argue with her, afraid you would forget she was a child and not a woman– What have you done to him?”

“He’s a dog… don’t worry… he understands I have a vision– I need you to get Homelander to publicly acknowledge me as his daughter.”

Helena hopped off the car slamming the door on her way out.

Your daughter and yourself didn’t speak for the rest of the day, she silently did her thing with only the sounds of the television filling the gap, until bedtime– you sat outside with a cup of hot chocolate in your hands, you glanced at the potted trees and the smooth gray walls of your homely prison, large windows framing your reflection allowing you to catch the blue and red coming down in the glass unsurprisingly.

“You want some hot chocolate?” You asked, lifting your cup.

He looked disgusted at the idea.

“She’s sleeping… I am calling in sick tomorrow… I need a day off…” you muttered as he landed before you, he pushed the metal chair scraping the grass, to take a seat by your side.

“How are you feeling? They will be trying her formula, so she will be there under Dr. Park vigilance… talk about cool after-school activities-- beats being a girl-scout!.” Homelander was clearly not that interested in you tonight– I kept an eye on Poltergeist. All his vital signs are fine.”

You seemed a little relieved.

Gawking at him, his bleached blonde locks, those sharp features and beautiful thin lips, you felt a tingle in your chest.

You wanted to forget about today, to not think of Helena’s actions.

Your smile was sad but he hadn’t noticed.

“Wanna fuck?” You put the cup down with a huff.

Homelander gave you a double take, this was the easiest way to wash away today’s events-- Helena's words creeping back at you... you had to to bind him to you... like this you could rid of these strange sensations simmering within, as you stared at his pretty blue eyes, and his belt, you threw away rationale.

“My battery ran out.”

His nervous smile was cute, you stood up… him still in the chair– turning around once again as you opened the door, inviting him to enter your domain.

Homelander was still so handsome it was infuriating to acknowledge that. Compared to your dull exhausted skin– he was still so fine. It wouldn’t be the worst you’ve done, you missed the attention, and he wanted yours so why not? You scratched your head as he simply stood frozen on the spot, shrugging your shoulders as you closed the door behind– only for his hand to keep it open, his breath ragged and the blush in his cheek matching the faint light of his eyes.

“Are… Are you sure?” he asked nervously.

“John” You tap his chest with your knuckles– take it off.”

Bells rang inside his brain, a shimmering perturbed gaze burning directly at you– a dog awaiting orders.

He followed you into the living room ditching his boots and tights on the way to that terrible couch, he watched you closely as you took a blanket and threw it on the ground alongside the cushions, licking his lip as you took your shirt off revealing your bare breasts.

He was quick to take you into his arms, kissing you intensely, your hands reaching after his neck, fingers harshly caressing his undercut, as he slid down your bottoms.

“You miss me?” His hands were so needy as he bit into your neck leaving trails of hickeys, his tongue savoring that spot where he had marked you as his own, the dents in your skin and the sunken discolored flesh left by his bite mark– it tickles…” 

In the heat of the moment he had bitten you, feasting on your blood as pleasure and pain intertwined, your mind blank as he made love to you, fostering a hatred for mirrors after it all ended, feeling him kiss his signature made you anxious, not wanting to relieve the bitter memories in this moment.

“Mommy…” He whispered as he returned to kiss and lick your neck– "It's been so long, mommy.” he said breathlessly.

“Is been long for me too, my sweet boy.” He moaned into your skin, his maws needy, eager to taste you, his breathless soughs turning you light as he brought you down onto the floor, holding your head as he kissed your neck and ears– you promise to make mommy feel good just like I taught you, baby?” Your voice is sickly sweet making his eyes flare up.

“Can… Can mommy show me again?” His voice gravelly and low as he cupped your chest.

You wedged your legs from under him with a cheeky smile.

“I’ll be extra-thorough then, so pay attention, sweetie.”

He liked that tone in your voice, he liked it even more when you commanded him, how long had it been since you lead him? Too long... too long to bare another moment without it.

Unsurprisingly he had no need for a refresher.

Taglist-- @fromforeigntofamiliarity (hope you had a nice snack for this chapter :), @demodemo909 @immyowndefender

[moribondslut]

WHY BLACK MARXISM? WHY NOW?

[Cedric J. Robinson] found in the culture, in the anthem "Nkosi Sikelel' ¡Afrika" sung across the continent, a liberatory vision of "people building, sweating, and toiling for a new world." He met people determined to be free, willing to take on a settler regime backed by Western capitalist nations, by any means necessary. In this brief essay, we can see Cedric coming to terms with the Black Radical Tradition:

The African, unable to operate openly, resorted to the only weapons he has been allowed to keep; his mind and his hands. He burns down missions and farms in the country areas because he is not strong enough yet to face the guns in the cities and townships; where meetings are banned or closely watched, he sings spirituals as the American slaves did a hundred years ago, to tell his people that they will be free again, soon. He has sent delegations repeatedly to the U.N. to plead for his life. He has not been rejected but he has not been effectively helped either, but still he tries.

[Robinson] situates the revolt in Zimbabwe within a global context that links the Third World to the plight of Black America. "Africa understands, Asia understands, you and I and the millions of blacks in the U.S., Brazil, and the West Indies understand, not because we are black or brown but because we have lived it and are living it now." In a letter to his aunt Lillian and uncle Bill Kea, he is even more explicit about how Southern Africa clarified and bolstered his identification with radical nationalism. "Americans are afraid of nationalism," he mused, "so Negroes are admonished not to use terms such as Black folk. But as a recalcitrant nationalist... it was one of my greatest thrills to come to this place, to see my people and, in Nairobi, see them function as complete and responsible human beings. The smallest thing is significant to those who are hungry." — Robin D.G. Kelley's new foreword to the revised and updated third edition of Cedric J. Robinson's Black Marxism (1983, 2020)

[topazadine]

Five Common Anxieties of Newbie Writers, Demystified

A simple post for today to address common concerns I have seen from younger writers over the years, which includes:

"Everyone else is so much better than me; I'm behind."

"I can't share my writing or someone will steal my idea."

"I am in direct competition with other writers; their gain is my loss."

"I shouldn't read while writing because it will ruin my unique voice."

"If I don't explain everything in meticulous detail, people won't understand my vision."

As always, this is my experience and my opinion as someone who has been writing seriously for about 15 years and reading, well, since I was a tiny baby. I also have several years of experience tutoring younger writers at both the K-12 and collegiate level.

Here goes!

1. "Everyone else is so much better than me; I'm behind."

You are not behind. Even if you start writing in your 60s, you are not behind. That's because there is no such thing as being behind in writing; you are where you are, and you'll only get further if you keep going.

Of course you're not going to write like Brandon Sanderson, or Tolkien, or Stephen King, or whoever when you're 20, because you're twenty. You just got out of high school two years ago and haven't even graduated college! These writers have decades on you and are naturally going to be better because they have had more time to learn.

Comparison is the thief of joy. You will not be happy if you are always comparing to yourself to every other writer and bemoaning your lack of experience.

As I have said multiple times throughout my blog, I encourage you to try to write 1 million words before you even think about publishing anything. Do fanfic, because then you can't publish it and you know you're just practicing. You will likely look back at where you started, with your first story, and go, "oh thank god I didn't try to publish that. I wasn't anywhere near ready."

And even then, you still will not be behind, because there's no one track toward success in publishing. You are just where you need to be right now, and you'll keep going where you need to go as long as you keep writing.

2. "I can't share my writing or someone will steal my idea."

I have seen a lot of this on writing subreddits. People will ask questions, but be intentionally vague about their plot because they are worried about someone else filching their idea and making it their own. However, they will refuse to share nearly anything useful, making it impossible to answer their question with any specificity.

Now yes, theft does happen. There was a horrendous story recently where an agent stole one of their author's ideas to give to another author, who then published faster because the agent had left Author 1 in Revision Hell on purpose. I'm not saying it never happens.

But the thing is that it is not the idea that makes any story special, it is the execution.

My Eirenic Verses series centers around poetry magic. That's the whole gimmick. But poetry magic has been done before to great effect by several other authors! There's a book called The Poet Empress out on sub that I'm hoping and praying will get published because I want to read it; everything about this story sounds AMAZING.

From the blurb, this book is vastly different from my own, which is a great thing. Both of us came up with this concept and took it in unique directions, giving readers more options for engage with poetry magic in completely different ways. And I love that!

Don't worry too much about people stealing your ideas. After all, your idea has been done dozens of times before already, even if you haven't been able to find an exact copy of the plot. We are all riffing off ancient plot forms and tales.

3. "I am in direct competition with other writers; their gain is my loss."

The joy of reading books is that you can read hundreds in a year if you want to. It is not like car sales, where people buy one single car every few years.

People buy books that they don't even intend to read; how many of us have dozens of books in our TBR pile that we'll probably never get to?

Yes, it's possible to lose out on competitions or publishing slots to other writers, but that is the nature of the economy, not the fault of any other writer. Placing yourself in opposition to a well-respected writer, especially one in your same niche, does you no favors.

Other writers are your peers, not your antagonists. No matter what you are writing, no one will do it quite like you, so you shouldn't worry if someone else's story is somewhat like yours. That just means that there is overlap between your audiences, and you should support them even more so that people like both of you.

The best way to be successful is to build community. People support those that they like and who are nice to them.

4. "I shouldn't read while writing because it will ruin my unique voice."

Your 'unique voice' is a mishmash of every other writer you have ever read because that is how learning works. You have absorbed the lessons of every other book you've put before your eyes (or into your ears), picked out what you liked, and left the rest. So yes, you do have a unique voice, but it is based on other writers, and the more you read, the more you refine that voice.

My favorite authors are Emile Zola, Willa Cather, Emily Dickinson, William Carlos Williams, Robert Frost, China Mieville, Terry Prachett, and Herman Melville. As a child, my favorite books were the Redwall series and The Unicorn Chronicles. My favorite nonfiction series is The Inspired Traveller's Guides by Sarah Baxter.

You can find all of those influences in my work, but you can also find dozens of other authors I have loved throughout my life. There are books that still haunt me today whose titles I can't even remember, just the concept or a specific scene.

My writing voice has become so strong because I like so many different kinds of writing and I have synthesized them all together. I learn something from every single book I read, even if it's just what not to do.

You can't become a strong writer if you don't read. It's essential to developing your voice. The more you read, the more you develop your voice, and the more that you can resist the urge to completely change your style based on what you are currently reading.

But you can only get to the point of having a strong, coherent voice by reading. So don't shy away from it.

5. "If I don't explain everything in meticulous detail, people won't understand my vision."

Here's a brutal truth: it doesn't matter whether other people see exactly what you see in your work. What matters is that they enjoyed what they saw. No one is going to have your exact same vision unless you turn your book into a movie.

Everyone's journey through a given book is influenced by their own life experiences. For example, if you asked a French person to describe a castle, they are going to say something completely different than what a Japanese person would say. What an Indian person envisions when you say "sword" is going to differ from what an English person thinks about. And that is fine and good!

You do not need to put your reader in a chokehold and make sure that they are seeing exactly what you see. This can be a huge turnoff to readers, especially if you do not present things in the proper order, because now they are constantly having to revise their setting with the new details you are providing.

Here, for example, is a description from my first book, 9 Years Yearning:

Every few steps, he ran across another example of a High Poet's work: ostentatious stone structures with smooth stucco sides, dramatic depictions of wild animals and fantastical beasts jutting from their surface. Others were more sculpture than home, tiny pebbles that slotted together to make a swirling mass of windows and doors. Goldnin, being one of the more well-heeled cities, had many wealthy merchants more than willing to spill quillim for a poetry-infused property.

Everyone who reads this is going to see different "wild animals" and "fantastical beasts." They are going to imagine the pebbles as different colors; maybe one person thinks they're all different shades that make gradations, while another wants them all to be tiny chips of quartz that sparkle in the sun.

I am fine with this. A story is a scaffold to allow readers to adorn with their own imagination, creating a personalized experience. I have given the reader some specific elements but left the rest vague so that they can envison what they want, and I'm okay with it not being exactly what I intended.

Once you have put a story out into the world, you're done interpreting it for the reader. It is now theirs to enjoy. They can do whatever they want with it, just like you can go buy something from the store and spraypaint it neon orange if you want to.

Your job is not to grab the reader by the face and tell them what you want them to see; it is to provide enough detail that they can see what they want to see. Giving up ownership like this allows you to make a story that isn't oversaturated with detail but still enables readers to have fun with it.

I hope this helped to ease some of your fears about writing. The most important part is to have fun, relax, and continue to learn all the time!

If you enjoyed this, maybe you will consider purchasing my book, 9 Years Yearning! This gay coming-of-age romance follows two boys in a military academy as they learn the arts of love and war. It includes poetry magic, strong sibling bonds, and all the awkwardness that young romance entails.