#I might have done this before but I forgot

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 12

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

"Enough! I’m not playing with you!" I snapped through gritted teeth, looking around nervously, fearing someone else might see us. "We’re going inside now, and you’re going to put some clothes on before I have to force you!"

"For someone who’s been treating me like I don’t exist, you seem awfully concerned," she said, dragging out every word with exaggerated slowness, dripping with sarcasm.

I didn’t know my body could overheat like a volcano about to erupt until this cursed woman crossed my path. It was evident from the triumphant look on her face that making my life a living hell with her presence was her greatest mission on Earth. I had no doubt that was what tied her to the band.

Being here every day, driving me a little more insane for her amusement.

Every time a car passed and honked as the driver caught sight of her body, clad in nothing but a white lace bra and matching panties, I wanted to claw my eyes out. It was hard enough to focus on her mocking face when all I wanted was to savor the view that hadn’t been mine for a long time.

Everything was still perfectly in place, and damn it, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this close to her exposed body. Her curves looked like they’d been painted with the finest brush, and at this distance, I could practically feel the texture of her skin and even catch her scent. I wasn’t the best at remembering things most of the time, but I never forgot anything about her.

"Let’s. Go. Inside. Now!" I said slowly, feeling another wave of fury boiling inside me as another car passed, honking and catching her attention.

"Don’t you dare come any closer!" she warned, pointing a finger at me, stepping back as she realized I was closing the distance between us. "Stay right there! Don’t move!"

"Or?" I tilted my head, matching her defiant tone. "That’s what I thought."

It only took one step to invade her space and lift her off the ground as if she weighed nothing, slinging her over my shoulder. Her screams and hysteria as we headed back to the studio didn’t faze me in the slightest, nor did her fists pounding against my back in an effort to free herself.

"PUT ME DOWN!" she yelled, kicking her legs and hitting my back harder. "PUT ME DOWN NOW, YOU IDIOT!"

Inside the studio, I tossed her onto the couch and pinned her down, immobilizing any movement by holding her wrists above her head. Her chest heaved erratically until our breaths became one, her darkened eyes locked on mine.

"Damn the day you crossed my path, you cursed girl!" I growled, tightening my grip on her wrists, my stomach churning inexplicably every time she curved her lips in amusement. "Have you lost your mind, pest?"

"You were so eager to touch me again that you broke your own stupid rule, didn’t you?" she taunted, biting a corner of her lower lip and holding it between her teeth, eliciting a faint gasp from me. I hated when she did that. "Look at you, still the same scared little boy whenever something crosses the limits of your control."

She lifted her head slightly, and our faces blurred into one another. Instantly, my skin felt like it was sparking as if struck by invisible embers.

"You still reek of fear, Noah," she whispered, her voice maddeningly soft. God help me, it was the closest I’d ever been to losing my mind. "And I love it."

"How is it that your entire life revolves around making mine a living hell and enjoying every second of it!"

"I won," she declared softly, almost sweetly, her jet-black eyes gleaming like polished tourmalines. "I beat you."

There was no denying the curse in her gaze. Not once had her eyes crossed paths with mine without dragging me into an abyss where I fell endlessly, with no place to land. Trapped in a trance. That was her power over me.

"There are curses that can’t be broken, Noah..." she whispered, her lips brushing faintly against the skin of mine. They were dry from the sudden lack of air and the suffocating heat that had overtaken the studio in mere seconds. "No matter how much you try to avoid us during the year, every pathetic day of your life, or who wins tonight. In the end, you’ll always be mine."

Her small nose grazed mine, and my eyes closed as her long, curled lashes brushed against my eyelid. Every touch seemed to amplify in intensity, as if reality had slowed to six times its normal speed, forcing my body to absorb every moment with care.

My free hand traced the side of her body, and with each advance of my fingers, counting her ribs, she gasped and reacted with her skin prickling from the sensitivity. I lifted her by placing my hand on her spine, and when I finally released her wrists, she launched herself at me, pressing our lips together in a furious kiss.

She clung to my neck as if afraid I might escape at any moment—an impossible detail when I was holding the world in my arms. The entangling of our tongues fueled the compression of our bodies. Slowly, I pushed her legs apart to wrap them firmly around my waist.

“I never disagreed with this part,” I murmured, tugging at her lower lip slowly. Pulling away swiftly, I tilted her head back, my fingers digging into her hairline, and watched as her heavy breaths colored her flushed face. I couldn’t resist when her smile broke through a soft moan under the pressure I applied to her body.

Our laughter synchronized with our desperate breaths as we resumed the rhythm of our kiss. Living a scene where we’d almost killed each other moments ago seemed to ignite an even fiercer spark, fueling the silent dance of our bodies. I buried myself in her lips with such urgency, as if I might lose her again. Her lips sucked on mine as we switched sides, and I held her face firmly, pressing my thumb into her skin.

It was more than good.

Tasting something that belongs to you has a different flavor. Tracing a body you know so intimately, like running fingers over the keys of a piano; feeling at home in a familiar place; recognizing the rhythm of a breath as if it were a musical note; desiring to merge with one person's lips for the rest of your life.

It was more than good.

But it couldn’t be mine.

With one last turn, I released her lips slowly. She seemed confused at first but softened as I rested my forehead against hers. Her fingers gently traced my face, making my skin tingle as if it might peel from the bones at any moment.

“I know what you're trying to do…” I said quietly, as though an invisible rope tightened around my throat.

“No, no, no, no, my love…” she repeated, holding my face as I tried to pull away. “Don’t do this, please.”

“We can kiss now, drown ourselves in this feeling that everything still belongs to us. That we still exist. I could tell you I’ve been waiting for this, and you could drown me in your lies and more promises you won’t keep,” I declared, even more agonized. “But our problems won’t disappear when we walk through that door, and they’ll come back, forming that same chasm that tears us apart, the one we know too well. Do you know why? Because I don’t want to hear you anymore, no matter what you have to say.”

“No, don’t say that.”

“Because you haven’t changed a single thing, and the proof is what you’re trying to do now, pulling me back into the same cycle again.” With the finality of my words, I stepped away from her gradually and stood up. On a chair, I noticed a shirt I assumed was Ruffilo’s and threw it at her, still staring at the ceiling in a trance. “Why are you doing this?”

I felt like closing my own throat with my fists, such was the pain constricting it and cutting off my air. I needed to breathe in short intervals, releasing it slowly through my mouth. I watched her get up and dress while still sitting, her arms hanging limp, her disheveled hair revealing the knot she tried to swallow.

Like me.

“It’s getting harder every day to just pretend I don’t care about this when everything I see, every path I try to take, every place I’m in—everything I am—has you,” she said without even looking at me. “I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life, and that’s saying something, considering I’m used to my own company. But that was before I hated everything I see in the mirror. Because she’s the real culprit.”

“I could say I miss you—I miss you in the morning, I miss you at night, I miss you in the shower, I miss you in bed, I miss you when I eat, I miss you when I’m on stage, I miss you when I write…” I paused for a few seconds, searching for air in the ceiling. “Because you’re right, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to write anything good. You took everything I had, even my inspiration.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over, shaking her head. “There isn’t a day I don’t feel guilty for killing that version of you and turning you into this.”

I hated myself for being moved by her tears. Were they real, or just the effect of whatever junk she was on? I didn’t care; the crushing sensation was the same, like a hammer shattering a glass chest.

Taking cautious steps, I approached and knelt beside her. Hard shell, sharp tongue, and a messed-up personality, but deep down, she was just a girl afraid to go home, afraid of anything that might trap her again. She was like a damned little bird, insisting on flying with wings patched together with toothpicks after a grave injury.

"If you’re truly consumed by remorse and want to do something for me, then take care of yourself," I said softly, lifting her chin with the tip of my finger. "Keep your mind steady, your body healthy. I wish I could do that for you, because I would never treat you this way."

"I love you."

Shimmering gemstones in the salty sea of her tears—it was the first time I heard her say it with such anguish, as if each word tore through her chest. She surprised me with a tight embrace, collapsing onto my lap, breaking down completely on my shoulders, and shattering my heart with the sound of her sobs.

Unfortunately, I returned the hug just as tightly, drowning in her hair. She wouldn’t see the tears I left there.

I love you too, little storm.

Nor would she hear what I whispered to myself.

Bad Omens was on its way to Mexico.

We couldn’t be more excited about a festival in a country we had yet to visit. Our Mexican fans were awesome and always tagged us in posts, asking us to come. Their day had finally arrived.

Our schedule was so packed during the three days we’d be there that we’d hardly have time to explore the city. Gerard, of course, thought that was nonsense and made it clear that if we wanted to sightsee, that’s what vacations were for.

The guys were asleep in their seats at the back of the plane, and not even my headphones could block out Folio’s snores.

Matt, Jolly, and Ruffilo were with the rest of the crew, glued to their phones, while I… well, I was in my favorite spot by the window, playing a ridiculous fruit-slicing game on my iPad and listening to music.

Nothing could ruin my trip.

“Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me.” She said quickly, weaving through the people in the aisle. Her body came to a halt in front of the aisle seat, and she checked something on her phone before glancing at the seat number.

Well, I spoke too soon.

“Great, this is my seat!” She said without much enthusiasm and, after placing her carry-on in the overhead compartment, sat down next to me.

It was impossible for her to arrive anywhere without drawing attention. She had to be noisy, bump into things, and breathe way too loudly. I kept playing as if nothing was happening and turned up the volume on my headphones.

Of course, after the conversation at the studio, things had gone back to normal. We fought like animals the next day because she insisted we should change the stage setup unnecessarily, and our brief truce resulted in another three days of silence.

I thought it was perfect.

“What are you listening to?” she asked, running her palm along her thigh. From her rushed tone, I guessed she was nervous.

“Music.”

“What song?” she shot back with another question, and I wished for death just to avoid answering.

“How about you grab your headphones, put them on, and stay silent for the rest of the flight while pretending this seat is empty and that Matt forgot me at the airport?” I said, glancing at her, and she didn’t even flinch.

For a few seconds, that actually worked—she stayed quiet.

But, as I said, only for a few seconds. From the corner of my eye, I saw her tapping her fingers on the torn part of her jeans. Her breathing seemed uneven, and even after sitting for a while, her body remained tense. If I knew her well enough, I’d say she was having an anxiety attack.

“Would you mind switching seats with me?” Her fingers curled, and she pressed her palm against the armrest as the plane prepared for takeoff. “I promise to stay really quiet if you let me have the window seat.”

I pretended not to hear and kept slicing fruit on the tablet. Out of the corner of my eye again, I saw her close her eyes as the plane ascended, shrinking into her hoodie with trembling fingers peeking out of the sleeves.

I closed my eyes, sighed deeply, and shifted to stand up. She opened one eye and looked confused as I gestured with my chin for her to take the empty window seat.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t tell me Miss I’m Not Afraid of Anything is still scared of flying.” I let out a chuckle, settling into my new seat.

"Ok, go ahead and call me pathetic," she replied without looking at me, her eyes fixed on the clouds over the airplane wings as she quietly counted her breaths.

"Actually, try focusing your energy on something during the flight, and it’ll go by faster. Try listening to music, reading a book, or—"

"Composing? Singing for the entire plane?" she cut in, raising an eyebrow as she turned to face me. "All terrible options. Honestly, I just get bored when I’m sober."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the tablet, as if pulling an invisible curtain between us. The more I kept my mind occupied, the faster the flight would pass, and the torture of enduring her next to me, constantly talking, would end.

"We get bored when we’re sober," she repeated, but this time with her eyes narrowing at something specific. "But we’re miserable when we’re not."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Her eyes lit up with something sharp, like lightning, and she pulled her phone from her pocket, fingers moving rapidly until she found the notes app.

"I can’t be saved," she murmured under her breath as she typed.

Carefully, I set the iPad aside and lowered the music in my headphones, watching something come to life before my eyes. She was having a burst of creativity and needed to write it down urgently.

"Watching it swirl down the drain," she continued, and my eyes narrowed as I watched her create something. It was fascinating how nothing around her seemed to exist—she was just immersed in her own thoughts.

I jumped when she suddenly shoved the phone into my hand, a sequence of jumbled phrases filling the screen. Each one had meaning but still needed to connect somehow.

So I decided to follow her inspiration’s formula.

"Old friends, the same as enemies. I’m killing myself again…" I said, finishing the sentence on her phone, filling one of the blank spaces.

"Watching it swirl down the drain…" Her expression finally softened as if something clicked into place. "Down the drain."

"With all I was but couldn’t change," I continued, holding her gaze before adding another note. "Down the drain."

"Down the drain," we said together, lifting our heads in surprise and holding each other’s gaze for a few seconds.

We had just created the second song for our album. Together.

Damn it.

We couldn’t be more different. We were a terrible duo playing instruments in completely disjointed orders. She always seemed to row against the current I was swimming, intentionally. And yet, it was surreal how she could take something so complex and make it look simple.

Like writing a song during an anxiety attack on a plane.

It was as if she didn’t need preparation or even a warm-up because she was born with it in her veins. Because she was good.

Really good.

"Thanks," she smiled, her breathing steadying as she leaned back in her seat. "I’m feeling better now."

"You wrote a good song."

"We wrote it," she corrected, nudging my arm with her elbow. "The first time you let yourself just listen to what’s in your head, we made a good song. We’re still a good team."

She looked so beautiful that, for a moment, I almost didn’t hear what she said, too focused on her bare face. The curve of her lips when she smiled was almost painful to look at up close, every time I remembered that just a few days ago, I’d tasted her again.

"Now that you’re feeling better, you can leave me in peace," I cut her off, turning up the music on my phone.

I was almost drifting off to sleep, guitar riffs running through my mind, when something poked my arm.

"Do you mind holding my hand?" My eyes opened, and there she was, looking at me with a pair of glistening gems. It was strange seeing her afraid, something I’d only witnessed a few times before. "Just until we land, please."

Slowly, I turned my palm upward and waited for her to slide her fingers over mine and interlace them. Unlike mine, her hand was soft and warm, and I couldn’t resist the involuntary motion of running my thumb slowly along the side.

Once again, I was doing what she wanted because maybe she was right when she said I was pathetic.

And I couldn’t wait for this plane to land already.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[hikaruchen]

Reading this blog and procrastinating what I should’ve been doing at the moment, but it’s super helpful if you want to know more about the Anglo-Saxon and Viking material culture but don’t want to be bored to hell. All articles are done by an archaeologist specializing in mortuary archaeology, and he has already written several ones about burials and pagan practices during that time through the lens of The Last Kingdom. I’ve linked one of his posts before on ao3 when discussing about the historical accuracy of Alfred’s tomb effigy in the show under the pic Prayer from the Pagan, but didn’t really had the time to check others out. I just did it and find his other articles are actually super interesting to read as well.

For instance, back when I post this pic in January I said the colour palette was inspired by the Alfred jewel, but I completely forgot that it actually appeared in the show (2x04) where Alfred handed it to Æthelwold and said “Take this. It is a symbol of my kingship. Bear it with authority.”, which might be partially true but is hilarious if you give it another thought.

Because, why, in God’s name, would Alfred hand an ARTEFACT version of the piece he commissioned himself to his nephew? As Prof. Williams already stated (in this post), the Alfred jewel has long been assumed to be the handle part of a pointer stick for following words when reading a book, and if you look at the artefact itself it is quite clear that there’s a part that’s been missing as well. The reason why scholars think it has something to do with Alfred is because:

1) It’s written. The text on the frame literally says that “ÆLFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN”, which means “Alfred ordered me made”. The more detailed explanation below (with the help of beloved wikitionary since I don’t understand Old English at all)

ÆLFRED (subject) Alfred, obviously MEC (object) me; accusative of iċ (I), but in the West Saxon dialect it’s actually an uncommon version of iċ’s accusative and is more often seen in the Anglian dialect. The frequently-used version for West Saxons is mē HEHT (verb) ordered; third-singular past tense for hātan (to call; to order etc.), often followed with infinitive verbs, cognate with heißen in German GEWYRCAN (verb) to make; I honestly don’t know if “to make” and “to be made” is just the same word in OE help And since the word order in OE is random as hell thanks to the case system (much like German which I eventually gave up learning because I don’t have a brain big enough for that. IT MAKES NO SENSE TO A NATIVE MANDARIN SPEAKER THANK YOU), it is eventually translated into “Alfred ordered me to be made”.

2) It was discovered in Somerset and has been dated to the late 9th century, and we all know what Somerset meant to Alfred

3) Alfred did say he would send a copy of his translation of Gregory the Great’s Pastoral Care to every episcopal see in his kingdom in the preface to it, with the book accompanied “an æstel of 50 mancuses”. Mancus was a term to denote a gold coin or a unit for coins worth about a month’s wage for a skilled worker, such as a craftsman or a soldier. Whatever that æstel is it must be worth hell LOTS of money

But honestly while I do think this interpretation sounds very much plausible I’m thinking about other possibilities as well - how many Alfreds exactly existed during his time? We know that Æthel in OE means noble, so people bearing this prefix in their names were usually royal members or at least aristocrats, but what about Alfred? Was Alfred a popular name? Or was it unique enough that he could just go by this name without mentioning his title at all? Imagine if it were an Æthelred who made this, who the hell would know which one of these it was referring to, Æthelred the King, Æthelred the Ealdorman, Æthelred Ealhswith’s father, or even Æthelred the fucking Archbishop??? And yeah, I know Alfred was the king ™ here and there isn’t really much space left on the frame after all, but surely it wouldn’t cost a bone to add a cyning behind his name, right?

Sadly, as it was in the pre-Domesday-Book era, I can’t find the statistics of Anglo-Saxon names at that time (but keep in mind that there were at least 19 Alfreds worthy enough to be mentioned in Domesday Book even after the conquest. I don’t know if this says anything at all but I do want to mention it) What I’m trying to say is while it is highly highly highly likely (and I do believe and want to believe in this theory!), we cannot be one hundred percent certain that this jewel was really from the Alfred we’re talking about. And even if it was, it apparently wouldn’t be carried around by Alfred like THAT. Because that would be like, “Bear this with authority! Even though the symbol of my kingship is broken!”, said Alfred to a king wannabe. Lol.

The other thing I want to mention is this post about the show’s use of Fuller brooch, the one Alfred wore in S2 when he was in his war gear.

First of all, it is indeed dated to late 9th century and is assumed by scholars to be made by metalworkers of Alfred’s court. Everything is fine except I don’t think you would want to wear jewelry that luxurious to war…but then there’s this thing:

MEET GIANT FULLERS!

Well, can’t blame them since I am basically doing the same thing with my drawings (i.e. using patterns on jewelry and illustrations from manuscripts for embroidery design). But it’s worth noting that designs that are suitable for one art form doesn’t mean they can be applied to another well, and that’s why I claim my art is inspired by Anglo-Saxon art but NOT historical accurate for the Anglo-Saxon period. The reason I still do this and think it is understandable for TLK crew to do so is because we simply don’t have that many resources to reference from when it comes to this time period, and fabrics and wooden buildings are just extremely hard to preserve by nature. Instead of screwing up the design on your own, it just has more fun to add real historical elements into your work. Look at those easter eggs!

Ok, that’s it. I hope you enjoy my long rant and have a good read from Prof. Williams’s works!

[gilverrwrites]

Jason and Roy separately after they keep teasing you and you just end up disengaging and dealing with it yourself with your hitachi and calling it a night. They got a lil too confident with the orgasm denial and forgot that their competition is Mr. Bunny massager/Mrs. Rose toy, who gives out orgasms for free with little to no begging or pleading or promises to be a good girl/boy required. Their window of opportunity to make you nut has closed and they're stuck waiting for the 1-3 business days for you to be in the mood/horny again if they wanna touch you again and they better bring their A game or they might just become 2nd fiddle to a bad dragon toy. (This might just be me but I'm not in a rush to repeat it if I spend all night with a person and dont get my rocks off, id still give head if asked but id need serious convincing to let them touch me again, bc it's not hot they wasted my fucking time, if I want to NOT come I can do that by myself)

On a very real note, teasing, edging, and denial are kinks like any other, and you should be voicing to your partners what kinks you do and don't like in the bed room to keep things fun and healthy. Your partner also shouldn't be in competition with your sex toys unless that's something they're into. If its not working for you, say something, my friend. Don't be afraid to stop your partners and say ‘Hey, this isn't working for me, can we do ‘something else’ instead?’ especially before you jump straight to cutting them out of the activity completely.

There's also nothing wrong with having a low libido anon! You take all the time you need between sex!

That being said, the idea of being pressed into the bed by Jason or Roy while they’re giving it their all and getting real cocky about making you squirm only for you to be like ‘um, no, excuse me. You're taking to long so I'll be doing this myself, thank you’ makes me laugh.

I think for both of them, the initial response would just be shock. Like open-mouth awe at your gall. Can't knock a girl who knows what she wants, and both of them would definitely enjoy watching you get off on your own typically, but the blow of you doing it unexpectedly, especially while they've been enjoying themselves would bruise their egos.

Roy is the type to try and win you back over. He's getting close, gently trying to pry the toy out of your hands and promising he’ll do better, he’ll do whatever you want just give him another chance. Can't you see how hard you've got him? Its painful, baby. You should let him relieve you both together.

Another disclaimer: Blue balls ain't a real thing, don't let Roy Harper convince you otherwise, he's just needy as all hell and will say anything to get you back to bed with him.

Jason would take it a lot harder. When his family piss him off he blows up, but I think he'd worry about scaring you/putting you off so he sulks instead. No, its fine. You do what you've gotta do, no really its totally fine. He’ll just show myself out and you can try again in the approximate 3 business days you need to to get there again, if he's around.

There's also a level of familiarity and intimacy to this. This is how I assume they'd react with someone they have an established romantic/sexual relationship with, in which at least some boundaries have been set. If you're just like, a one-night stand or you're in a causal hook-up scenario they'd probably just be like oh, okay. Guess we’re done for tonight, see ya round, have fun with that. They're not gonna push if it's evident you're not willing to give.

[nerdieforpedro]

WIP Wednesday

The last one I did may have been in September. 👀 Been a long time. Haven’t really been writing much fanfic. Stuck on different papers for school. I was tagged by @evolnoomym and she shared ideas so I will too! ❤️ @pr3ttynpiink also tagged me and looks to be cooking up some fun new fics. 🥰

I want to write something for Modern Din and Christmas to go in my series: This is the Neighborhood Din, but it will likely need a chapter between that to make sense. (Every so often I care about making sense). Also more Luke doing Jedi yoga on his lawn and Poe & Finn being boyfriends because I want it all!

I need to write a new chapter of Weddings 101 with Dieter. Kinda left on a cliffhanger and a lot happened in my mind that should be posted 🤣

There’s a little over a month until the DMAMC 2025 challenge is due, haven’t written anything. Actually forgot about it, but fear not! I’ll think of something. 👀 My character is Pero Tovar (I doomed myself by picking him 😭 like the level of difficulty). But maybe I’ll revisit a pairing I’ve done.

Random but working on a Baldur’s Gate 3 fic and bugging @perotovar (Erin beta read for me what I have so far), @megamindsecretlair reads the snippets I send her and @soft-persephone looks at the pics I send her and is honest 🤣🤣🤣). Everyone’s favorite moody (for many a legit reason) and murderous pale elf who’s a vampire Astarion and an OFC. Things that happened between these two: a lot of staring, mocking Gale (everyone’s favorite past time- he makes it easy but also the wizard is really nice insane like everyone else but nice), drying some hair, hugs and some tears. Lots of angst, fluff and comfort. Haven’t decided on smut yet, is likely but I’ll see how it reads.

Didn’t realize that A Safe Place for Us was up to chapter 7 on AO3 and only 5 on Tumblr 👀 My bad. I should be able to post one chapter on here before November ends. The formatting and graphics take me the longest. 🤓

I also have a secret Santa fic things I’m supposed to be working on for a discord group but I also have not started. 👀 Unsure of which direction it should go in. I’ll figure it out, eventually I think.

The first paragraph of chapter five of “A Safe Place for Us”:

Waking up to Dieter takes getting used to for Aisha. It’s not unwelcome, she’s just not used to someone clinging to her like he does. Every morning he stays at her apartment is one where he has his arm and head somewhere on her. Chest, stomach, thigh, back, ass one time because he enjoys scissoring her entrance wider and scooping his spend that drips out of her back in before pumping his fingers to stir his cum within her.

Yeah…chapter five is…a ride so to speak. 👀 Forgot we had a strong start.

I found a WIP that contains Marcus Pike angst:

His romantic relationships and come and gone just like yours but you always had each other. Though, you treated yours as ways to work off the need you felt for your friend. To distract yourself, even when you were with your other partners, you’d think of him during the throws of passion, even when having simple meals and they may chew too loudly. You loathed your behavior toward your partners and your friend, biting your lips to not utter his name while under someone else.

“Marcus…”

Is the only name you want to say but can’t.

Hmm….might be a good holiday one or something. 🤔

That’s the ideas for now. Always a lot and never finished. ✅ Would it be Nerdie if they were? 😎

Have a happy Thanksgiving, holiday, days off of work and stay safe!

NPT: @chaithetics @schnarfer @inept-the-magnificent @yopossum @djarinmuse @604to647 @secretelephanttattoo @magpiepills @maggiemayhemnj @murder-wife @sin-djarin @syd-djarin @morallyinept @westside-rot @tinytinymenace @sunshinehaze1 @soft-girl-musings @goodwithcheese @jolapeno @bluestar22x @clawdee @romanarose @beefrobeefcal @bitchesuntitled @bitchwitch1981

[literaticat]

It took me a while to stop crying and resolve to help people who will be targeted (starting 1/20/25). I am also trying to reconnect to even a scrap of joy, by tiptoeing back into writing. But...I keep analyzing my WIPs through the lens of how That Guy will be making half the country feel, wondering, "Is X funny enough? Is Y topic too serious?" Help?! Is it worth writing/querying anything that's not totally escapist? Are there genres that should just stay in a drawer right now?

No need to wait until January to help people! :-)

As to the writing piece: I think you are overthinking it. And hey, I get that! Half the country is still somewhat in "reeling mode", it hasn't even been a month, no need to make any huge decisions or change the course of your writing life or fret about queries that you aren't ready to send anyway right this second. Give yourself some grace. Do some deep breathing.

Nobody knows what the future will bring.

Hey, maybe people will want to read more than they ever have and publishing will thrive across all genres. Maybe there will be an unforeseen trend of books about cowboys in space or something that will make a genre flourish that we haven't ever even thought of before!

Or, maybe the tarriffs will eff publishing up so badly we won't need to worry about ANY genres anymore. Maybe he'll sell us all to Daddy Vladdy for a nickel or start Civil War II and we'll all have to become resistance fighters. (Or, maybe we'll get lucky and the meteor will come; that might be better, because I don't have much to offer in the way of actual resistance fighting unless the troops need children's books or cookies!)

But since none of those lines of thinking are particularly helpful or healthy, maybe let's not focus on speculating about all the random possible scenarios. It's too much! Your brain will break!

Here's what is within your purview: YOUR LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD. That includes your work, yes, but also your home, your family, your personal behavior and habits, your physical and mental health, and the well-being of your communities (both literal, like, the people who live near you, and figurative, the people near you or even across the country or the globe with whom you have shared values, etc)

I'm not an expert obvs, but I do feel like, when I stop "reeling" and thinking about whatever bizzaro outrage some politician is perpetrating and start thinking about what tangible things I can do to help support MY LITTLE CORNER OF THE WORLD, I feel a lot better. More useful.

(Like, how about instead of doomscrolling, I actually take that time and put my impotent rage to use pulling out the dying tomato plants and getting the yard ready for winter? How about instead of crying into my pillow, I gather a bunch of stuff to donate to a local charity? OH LOOK, I FORGOT ABOUT THE NEWS FOR A WHILE AND GOT THINGS DONE AND MADE MY CORNER OF THE WORLD BETTER! And now I'm tired and can take a nice shower and watch something silly on TV and go to sleep! Yay!)

What I'm saying is, AFTER you do the deep breathing and give yourself grace and all that stuff -- maybe DON'T think about your WIPS through the lens of "OMG what horror show is that freak in the white house doing" or "what will random terrible people think about what I'm doing" -- but rather, think, how do *I* feel about what I'm doing?

We have limited time on this earth -- do you WANT to spend your time on this? Will working on this bring you joy? Does the idea of writing it excite you? Will it reading it bring other people in your communities joy, or hope, or escapism, or important information, or inspiration, or *something else positive*? Those are the kinds of projects you should focus on, imo.

Obviously I have no clue what "Trends" will be coming up in the future, or what the publishing landscape or the world will look like at all -- but I DO SUSPECT that what we will need the most is books that bring something positive to the table. Whether that means a book full of pure delight/escapist entertainment, or reminders about what is beautiful in the world and special about humanity, or tools to help people enact change, or fuel for the next generation of rebels and resistance fighters, or whatever it is.

And, I think that "something positive" could come in the form of fiction, nonfiction, and pretty much ANY genre or category.

(Probably not a great time for extremely bleak / hopeless books, and certainly not a great time for books that you yourself are not passionate about. Writing and publishing is hard enough - don't do the projects that are a misery on top of all that!)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

rough day...

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[kayo-min]

BLEACH x Vamptober 2023

2 Signet Ring | 3 Wine | 4 Bat wings | 5 Van Helsing

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

trying to psych myself up to finally do oc refs by doing fandom-related refs instead: volume 1

wanted to update my yuma from whatever tf this au is so he was a bit more unique... takes inspo from a lot of different things while also trying to be its own sorta thing? which is fitting given the au ;)

bonus chibi now that i'm also figuring out how tf to do chibis lol:

[crybaby-bkg]

Quirkless college AU where Keigo is your annoying teachers assistant for one of your majors classes. He never seems to give you that A you deserve, and is hellbent on going back and forth with you about every little thing. About every little grade, every little answer you submit, every little note he likes to leave on the corners of your papers. He mocks your handwriting with his own chicken scratch, even writes a ‘wtf are you trying to say???? is that supposed to say RHETORIC?????’ on one of your papers.

You wanna complain about him to your professor when it comes to his attitude and nitpicking, but the prof always just tells you to take it up with the TA yourself. And that’s exactly what the golden haired man wants, and it’s so painstakingly obvious with the way he absolutely grins when you drag your feet into his ‘office hours’ (aka him sitting in the library for the same amount of time every week).

“I was wondering when you’d ask me to round your grade up.” Keigo doesn’t even greet you, just leans back in his chair as he folds his arms over his chest. His smile grows even wider when you narrow your eyes and huff at him, snatching the chair out from across him to plop down heavily.

“Give me the grade I deserve, and not the grade that drags me here to be with you.” You’re all snaps and irritation, and Keigo loves it—eats up the way your bottom lip juts and your brows furrow down and, oh, you’re so goddamn cute when you’re annoyed.

“Go on a date with me this weekend, and I’ll change it.” Keigo blurts out with a lilt of his lips, eyes squinting when you reel back with a scoff. You stare at him for a while before answering, and he can’t help but notice how shifty your hands have gotten and how it grows harder to look him in the eye now.

“I feel like that goes against policy.” You mutter, picking at your nails before glaring through your lashes. Keigo cocks his head to the side, smiling.

“Don’t tell me you’re a goody two shoes.” He teases, tilts his head in your direction, watches the gears turning in your head as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Fine. One date, and you give me extra credit on the last paper.” You bargain with him, glaring at his hand when he holds it out for you to shake. You pause before you take it, frowning when Keigo grins wider and leans across the table.

“Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal there, birdie.”

And after that, it becomes routine for you both. Keigo enters the most foul grade he can until you show up at his dorm room furious and seething, all so he can pull you in to his space and kiss your puffy cheeks while you enter your own grade in the system. He’s a bit of a jackass, but you think it’s all worth it, especially when he shows you the expansive winged tattoo on his back and the quickest and most efficient way to do eyeliner. He’s good for something, you guess.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[jennycalendar]

my mother did in fact text me last night that there was a death in “her origin family” as though i am not fully biologically related to her. no specific information on who died btw

[ssruis]

Going through a straight up comical amount of irritating situations to get the stupid 4* guaranteed ticket from the welcome to sekai campaign. It Will Be Mine.

[tittyinfinity]

No seroquel means no sleep for me I guess. I've been trying for hours

[such-a-daydreamer]

Haha so like, I was originally gonna post the inktober stuff one by one like everyone else is but like, I forgor :/

FIRST WEEK OF INKTOBERTALE!!

Just know that like, it is a lot. So continue under the cut if you wanna see my absolute shitter of an art dump

//-------Day One-------//

Prompt: Ink (warm up)

The second one was more of a warm up really, I just wanted to get myself in the mood. Especially love that fell drawing in the corner.

//--------Day 2--------//

Prompt: Pumpkin carving

Yes. Yes that is error and ink kissing on the pumpkin.

//--------Day 3--------//

Prompt: Medicine

Hehehe my original idea was to have ink covered in colourful splotches and be on the floor and have the medicine be his like vials. I ended up thinking "that's too easy" so that turned into him wearing one of those sexy nurse outfits then I made a last minute decision to NOT do that

//--------Day 4--------//

Prompt: honey

Little to say about this, other than I love him a lot💕💕

//--------Day 5--------//

Prompt: Theatre play

Yeah the caption says enough.

//--------Day 6--------//

Prompt: Stickers

Yeah I uh, forgot that this whole thing was like a pun on inktober and y'know the character ink and this whole thing is called inktobertale, derailed a lil bit but 'm gonna get back on track after this I swear😭

//--------Day 7--------//

Prompt: Gingham

Yeah I basically know my ass to my elbow when it comes to textiles and stuff like that so I had to research some things. Anyways, Gingham is cute :3 tempted to make that skele an actual oc but like I can't be bothered.

Here's the prompt list btw

Yeah so uh, see ya next week til I've gotten the next batch done ... unless you wanna have it done one by one? Idk, tell me your thoughts. ALSO HAHA bit reluctant about showing this cuz of the MASSIVE sidetrack for like the majority of the week