#yes i am procrastinating why do you ask

[sanstropfremir]

speaking of idols doing gay shit, please watch jooan pull moves on sungkyu

[ytsunodabrainrotbaybee]

Violet!

-> Violet! by Waterparks

Oscar Piastri x an accident prone neurodivergent reader

Essentially the three-ish times that Oscar starts fussing over you, and the one time he got it right.

Groceries, unloading groceries.

Picking up a case of bottled water was enough to have Oscar hovering. Asking if you needed him to take it from you, as he tucked a carton of milk under his arm.

Not that he didn’t try taking the water first. You shoo’d him away from the trunk of your car before he had a chance.

“You really don’t know how this works,” you stated.

“I know that last time you dislocated something it was after you got your finger stuck in a mop bucket,” he opened your apartment door for you to walk in and drop the case of water onto your counter.

“And I had no idea because you don’t express pain.”

You rolled your eyes as he took the couple of steps towards you he needed to be able to rest his hands on your waist. You stared up at his eyes, watching him blink as he stared down at you. He watched your eyes shift from one of his to the other.

“What’re you thinking about?” He asked.

You didn’t answer, just wishing he could read your mind. Though some days it felt like he could, he could never understand the simple phrases that circled your mind when you couldn’t dream to force them out.

“I love you too,” he said, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before turning to start putting your things away.

~~~~

Oscar didn’t hover 24/7.

That would be unrealistic.

it was just when he got back to you after weeks, sometimes months, on the road for work.

He’d wake you up as early as he made it back and hide himself in your apartment until he felt like a normal person again. You’d go on with your life like you had been until he pulled himself up and out of your room like a bear from hibernation.

With an insatiable thirst from well over 24 hours of sleep to combat the jet lag, he started the day watching you cook breakfast.

Not a measuring cup to be seen, you’d drift from one spot in the kitchen to another with the steady destruction of a tornado. Always producing the best waffles and coffee and parfait he’d ever have. Always better than the last, despite your unwavering commitment to your recipe.

You’d reach for your favorite kitchen knife, and he’d make his way over. Your fingers held onto the fruit you cut in an unsettling fashion. He’d offer to cut the fruit for you every once in a while.

Too much of a deviation in your routine. So he settled for watching close as you shifted your hands uncomfortably to account for the knife and it’s ever shrinking victim.

~~~~

In theory, race weekends should be a sensory nightmare.

People rushed around you, stood in the garage next to some mechanics you were probably introduced to more than once. The adrenaline radiating from everyone around you, the yelling back and forth as the countdown to lights out drug on.

Weekends in the garage were the best.

you watched intently the way people dodged each other, racing back and forth to get any loose ends tied up.

As time went on, Oscar and Lando began making their own appearances in the garage as well. The former being sure to make eye contact whenever he could, seeking out a quick shaka to say “right on” and let him know you’re fine.

At that point your headphones hung around your neck. You sat in the busy noise, listening and watching with an intense focus that by the end of the event would make you more tired than anything. It’s fine. It’s more than fine.

You could always sleep better after days in the garage anyways.

~~~~

The end of the day could be a bit harder

Oscar would take extra care after race days, especially when you’ve spent the whole weekend in the garage. He’d tell you to quit overextending yourself, you’d tell him you want to see him drive.

Your head drifted downwards as you stared up over your sunglasses frames. Your AirPods tucked under your headphones blasting a playlist of the day. Both tale-tale signs of being checked out.

Oscar sat himself next to you as soon as his time in the media pen was done. He reached for your hand, which you offered without a second thought. He squeezed twice, his own signal to you asking if you’re ready.

You nodded and the two of you stood. Maybe a little quick, as you stumbled into his side. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the two of you made your way out and to wherever he had his car parked.

He chattered on to you about the race, and whatever drama it was that happened between Carlos and Pierre during the post race interviews. You nodded along, asking questions that would take him into a different area of whatever he could be excited about.

The path the two of you walked was pavement, for the most part it was very even. Not even a rock out of place. Staring down into the pavement as you walked and listened was an experience. The grey concrete shined in the sun overhead.

You let Oscar pull you to the side, away from the edge of the sidewalk. Your foot nearly slipping into the grass beside it, had your boyfriend not urged you away.

“wow I could almost feel that one,” you looked back to the edge of the sidewalk you had been walking on.

Oscar only laughed, squeezing your shoulder as the two of you continued your walk, “that’s what I’m here for, hm?”

[distort-opia]

Batman & Joker: Silhouettes

Batman: Endgame // Richard Siken, “Bird Hover the Trampled Field,” War of the Foxes // Batman: Death of the Family // Detective Comics (2016) #1027 -- Many Happy Returns // Batman: Death of the Family // Chelsea Wolfe, “The Mother Road”, Birth of Violence // Batman: Endgame

[seiya-starsniper]

[scienceoftheidiot]

It's raining and there's a tree in my backyard that has already lost all its leaves, on which the water makes very round drops on all the branches. The light is very white and flat and it makes them shine a little, and it looks like ice or fairy lights minus the light.

I don't know lol but I just find it so beautiful and I can't take a picture that would do it justice so here you are.

[biffybobs]

I was thinking about having Noa "grow her fringe out" as she gets older but it's really weirding me out and the glasses sitting where they do is just asdfghjkfsl 😞

[lilium-in-blue]

I customized my tumblr palette on desktop and I LOVE IT

[outlying-hyppocrate]

sometimes i am sad and then i remember i have so many things to live for. family and friends and music and you. i'm so happy i live such an amazing life

[pertinax--loculos]

WIP Intro

(working/reference title)

“and you told me something that I didn’t know that I wanted,                             to hear that there was nothing that I could do to save you.”

For Natasha Garcia, this is a story of self-preservation. She has evidence that can protect her and her boyfriend from any further victimisation by the monstrous Seagrave. Her friends are working on making Seagrave’s bodyguard and lover see just what a horrible human being he is. Alone and powerless, Seagrave won’t be a threat to them anymore. If Natasha can destroy him, surely she can destroy the memories that thread dark tendrils through her mind and body every time she remembers her former best friends; Seagrave, lost to his own worst impulses. And Kyra, simply lost.

For Vasco Tate, this is a story of discovery. He agrees to Duke’s terrible, awful, very-not-good plan because that’s what he does, but in doing so he starts to see a side of his partner that he’d never considered before. Getting to know Garcia’s friends makes him question everything he thought he knew, and the distance from Duke throws some things into sharper clarity. The life he’s built may have cracks in the foundation, but damned if Vasco’s going to let it crumble without knowing the truth.

For Kaiden ‘Duke’ Seagrave, this is a story of obsession. He may have done monstrous things, but they are nothing compared to what he lived through. He’ll plot and scheme and he’ll get the evidence Garcia gathered during their friendship, and he’ll use it to complete the mission he began all those months ago, the one that started That Night. He’s lost Garcia and he’s lost Kyra and in doing this he may even lose Vasco; but Duke doesn’t care. He chases sensation like the addicts he caters to chase a high, and making the final two people pay for what they did will make him feel the way he so craves.

Content Warnings: violence, references to sexual assault, self-inflicted injuries, references to suicide and suicidal ideation, fucked-up relationships, sadomasochism, references to abuse. More may be added as they become relevant. Excerpts with this content will carry warnings and will be tagged.

[sparrowsarus]

Still thinking about the Ed/Xenk/Wyll/Karlach/Zia polycule btw. They all have two hands! They all need a hug! You think Karlach couldn't take out Thayan assassins singlehandedly, possibly with Holga help? No! Ed would come home from the market and find several dead people and his wife being safe and alive!!! His girlfriend-in-law is covered in blood that isn't hers! His best friend is looting the bodies and wondering how to repurpose the cloth!

[mediumorange]

This week’s fic-related google searches include:

How to install barbed wire; how to dispose of sick cow carcass; 1970s John Deere tractor; plural of rendezvous

[angelsarecomputers]

kaworu becomes a catboy in the tsubasa chapter i’m currently writing. no i will not give any context

[thewallshaveeyes]

ADHD Life Pro Tip:

Can't seem to incorporate a daily routine? Why not try

✨Multitasking?✨

(Aka just shoving shit into your schedule all willy nilly)

Have trouble brushing your teeth? Just do it in the shower!

Never skip a meal but can't find time to fit in Duolingo? Learn while you eat!!

The world gets so much easier when you regain your free will. Like, of course I could spend all morning laying in bed until I'm late or I could roll out of bed (literally) and just fucking slug around to ease myself into moving!! Idgaf if it's childish, if running up the stairs on all fours like a shetland pony is what it takes for me to get my ass to get dressed then SO BE IT

[asterdeer]

definitely the funniest thing about the last richard episode is that everyone is like "oh my god the bad guys threw richard out of a car on purpose, they attempted to murder him by pitching him off a cliff, this is the last straw, this blatant murder attempt will not go unanswered!” and eventually richard is going to have to make a choice.

[vikingsong]

What Type of Writer Are You?

In the course of a discussion in the Merlin Gen-focused ‘Land of Myth’ Discord server, I developed the following framework for categorizing different approaches to writing fiction:

The Sojourner

📕

You are a sojourner, setting out on a trip from Point A to Point B, carrying a map or itinerary with you. You prefer to write stories in purely linear order, starting from the very first scene straight through to the very last scene, AND you have at least a cursory outline upfront. (This makes you a Planner or a Plantser in NaNoWriMo lingo.) You may even know exactly what all the major plot points will be and have some detailed ideas about key scenes, but you never (or hardly ever) skip ahead to write any of them. Getting to eventually write those scenes might even be the carrot that keeps you moving when you get stuck or frustrated along the (linear) writing journey.

The Parkour Practitioner

📗

You are a pure discovery writer (the very epitome of a Pantser in NaNoWriMo lingo): a parkour enthusiast who sets out with the intention of scaling whatever obstacles they happen to encounter along the route from Point A to Point B (even if they only have a general sense of what they’ll find when they eventually reach the end point). You have no outline; just you and a blank page and the idea for the opening scene or premise. You write entirely linearly from the first scene to the last, figuring it out as you go. Even if you have a couple of key scene ideas in your mind at the start, you don’t skip ahead to write them first.

The Acolyte

📘

You are an acolyte (Pantser) following the whims of your mercurial Muse, skipping around when you write. You might not write the opening scene until after you’ve written what later turns out to be the end of Chapter 7. However, you do NOT have a written outline—or at most, it’s a couple of vague bullet points. (Ex: “•Arthur gets enchanted. •There’ll be a unicorn involved in Act II. •There might be a magic reveal; I haven’t decided yet.”). You start with only a prompt and/or a handful of fun scene ideas that you want to build a story around, and you have no qualms about writing those scenes first. You write whichever new scene idea grabs you at any given moment. The second draft is, to quote Neil Gaiman, where you go back and “make it look like you knew what you were doing all along.”

The Quilter

📙

You skip around, AND you use some form of written outline (Planner or Plantser). It may or may not be a super-detailed outline; at minimum, you have a solid idea fairly early in the process of how all the main beats should line up, but you may not know every detail to connect them. You write whichever scene from your outline strikes your fancy, and then you piece the various quilted squares together with bits of connecting material, intentionally creating patterns as you go and probably making frequent use of your fabric scrap pile.

A Summary Matrix:

And there’s one final category…

The Free Spirit

📚

Other/None of the above! You do your own thing, and it works for you! It’d be cool if you’d reply to this post with a brief description of your approach. I’d love to hear what works for you!

(I’m a quilter in this framework, in case anyone’s curious 📙)

[squareofshape]

not in a bad way or anything but i do kinda credit the nanowrimo website for my ongoing obsession with data visualization. the way i feel different things based on which graph i'm looking at (total wordcount vs daily wordcount) and how it's represented (line graph vs bar graph). the way a tiny bit of information can paint a vivid picture of my life during one month out of each of the past 10 years--the way a dip in a squiggly line can remind me of one harrowing week in college when all my classes had exams and papers due at once, and a jagged uphill bump can bring on the memory of frantically writing, glasses off and eyes closed for maximum typing efficiency, in the middle of my childhood bedroom on thanksgiving break. maybe i've just got stories on the brain this month but there is something beautiful about these wordless tales ensconced in shape and design.