#back to writeblr

[inkskinned]

the tradwife movement is the same as it has always been - back in the kitchen, back to breeding - it just has better branding.

when i was younger, i hated pink. i was not like other girls. this is now something i'm embarrassed of - this was not me being a "girl's girl."

but it was expressing something many of us felt at the time: i literally wasn't what girlhood was supposed to be. this is a hard thing to explain, but you know when you're not performing girlhood correctly. it isn't as easy as "i liked x when girls liked y" - because there were other girls that liked x, too - but i never figured out exactly the correct way to like x, or to be interested in y.

now there is the divine feminine. this is the same rhetoric it has always been: women are biologically driven to like pink and ribbons and submitting to our husbands.

the problem is that the patriarchy found a better PR team. because yes, actually, i want every woman to have the choice to be a homemaker. i also want her taken seriously for her legitimate home-making labor. i want her to be recognized as also having a job, just unpaid. i want men to have this opportunity, too.

but it is no longer "i made this choice and I love it." instead it is a sixteen-paragraph rant about how selfish it is that my generation isn't having kids. instead it's long videos about how if you feed your children processed foods, you're going to kill them. instead it is "this is what womanhood is supposed to be. i feel bad for any other choices you're making."

the shame spiral is just prettier. it is large houses devoid of personality. it is the implication: if you don't have this, you aren't happy. the solid, everlasting assurance: women are actually supposed to be submitting. this is the default. this is the natural state of things. all other attempts inflict suffering.

but you can no longer say i'm not like other girls. you can no longer reject this image completely. you cannot find it revolting, even if you know that the underbelly is toxic and festering. sure, it is the same repackaged patriarchy. but the internet does not have shades of grey. you should support and reward other women! your disgust is actually internalized misogyny. not because you are seeing a vision of yourself the way they're trying to train you to be. not because you feel her ghost pass within an inch of your earlobe. not because your father will eventually ask you - why can't you be like her?

because they figured out how to make it beautiful: women will sell other women on this idea, and we will find the singular loophole in feminism. sure, she's shaming you in most of her videos. sure, she implies that a different life is obscene. but she just wants you to be happy! you'd be happier if you were listening!

and the whole time you're sitting there thinking: i'd actually just be happier if i had that kind of money.

[black-quadrant]

[anasyabulbulbul]

Do you marry me?

Solivan swallowed nervously, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest. His face flamed with a blush and his voice trembled. He stood in front of the MC wearing a black t-shirt that was a little too loose around his shoulders and a light veil that hid part of his confused look.

– Do you marry me? – The words escaped his lips with difficulty, and his eyes reflected a mixture of fear, hope, and boundless love.

He knew the answer could have been anything. He knew they might not even take his feelings seriously. But it was no longer possible to hide them.It was up to them now.

[keyotosprompts]

counting the steps to the door of your heart ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆

how to be a true YEARNER (jk yearn how u want)

⇴ person a watching person b trail further and further off, and person a is frozen in place. person b—though walking away—seems closer than ever through person a's gaze

⇴ being completely hyper-focused on a book, yet every page, every beautiful metaphor reminds person a of person b

⇴ you two are both lying next to each other and you feel asleep. the person next to you has to try their hardest to resist the urge to reach out and touch you. just one stroke of the cheek is all the desire—the chance to have their hands brush across your soft skin.

⇴ "i just can't do it man" "do what?" "i can't just sit in front of them and act like everything's normal. i want more, but i know that it would be wrong to have it. but i need them. i feel crazy—am i crazy?"

⇴ person a keeps thinking about person b, even though they've only met once. once their eyes meet person b's, everything slows. nothing else matters except for the smile on their face. something clicked.

⇴ "have i ever told you that you were the one thing that just made sense?" "no, but go on." and the other person malfunctions because... well where do they start. how do they go about this w/o rambling, or letting their true feelings out?

⇴ the constant need to reach out. the constant need to grab their hand, rub their arm, and put your head on their shoulder.

⇴ wanting to know everything about them—little or big: their daily schedule, what shampoo they use, whether they are feeling the same as you. any crumb of information would be satisfactory

⇴ anxiously bouncing your knee in hopes that you can see them and have a conversation. finding any excuse to come up and talk. you just want to see them and have your eyes fall on their silhouette.

⇴ they laugh at something you said, and the melodious sound of their chuckle carries around the room, gracing your ears. now, you start planning another joke, hoping to hear that warm sound again.

⇴ "i don't think i can hide it anymore. how it's like my heart is on the verge of a heart attack when you text me. how i've delved into all your favorite movies, books, and tv shows ever since you've told me about them. how i wanted to be close to you—not just physically."

⇴ "i kept doing all these things just to see if you would do them with me. i really wanted you to be there with me."

⇴ the way that everything is fine and under control until they take one look at your lips.

⇴ "you're doing that thing by the way. when you lie to make someone feel better? you bite the inside of your bottom lip and nod, then you make this really pitying look with your eyes. like a squinty thing." "...wow"

[aussie-bookworm]

Finding out AO3 that is down before the status accounts report about it feels like being the messenger in a fantasy movie, heavily injured and bloodied, running into the throne room and declaring the neighbouring kingdom has declared war on the king before collapsing from blood loss in a stunned silence

[inkprilled]

Screw it , I'm going to write this book.

[sensitivesublime]

[nondelphic]

writer’s block isn’t real, you’re just afraid your characters will roast you for bad dialogue.

[charbroiledchicken]

it's not writers block, it's my characters' vacation days. they deserve a few breaks between The Horrors.

[existingillusion]

[secretidentie]

Bruce finally feels settled in his role as batman. Dick just went to college, the Justice league is doing well and he's got a new Robin. So he decides it's finally time he made his parents proud and finish medical school (and totally not because he wants to be in college at the same time as dick, that's ridiculous Alfred).

Obviously since he's the prince of Gotham he can't really go to Gotham U without being recognized or harassed and since he owns half the buildings he knows he won't be treated fairly so he decides to study in Metropolis.

This is how he ends up in a communication and ethics elective class with a Clark kent, a journalist for the daily planet who is getting his PhD. They slowly develop from strangers to study buddies and maybe even more while Bruce balances academic pressure, with being batman and a dad to dick 2.0 jason.

As the year goes on and he has to deal with assignments, group projects, literal teenagers and not always being perfect Clark's apartment slowly becomes a safe space as he learns to ask for help and accept change.

[theliteraryarchitect]

Looking for active writeblrs to follow!

I just realized that most of the writeblrs I follow aren't posting much anymore. A hazard of being on this site for so long, I guess. I'm particularly interested in:

Original fiction

Fantasy

Weird stuff that defies all categorization

... and everything else, because let's be honest I love all writing

I'm a writer and editor who mostly posts/reblogs writing advice and inspiration, although I occasionally share about my WIPs or recent publications/zines. Interact with this post, or follow me & I'll follow you back. Can't wait to fluff up my dash with new writers and writing! It's been dead much too long.

[buddivorce]

hey guys what do you do when you dream about a girl who doesn't exist. you meet her, she lives in your building, you and your other friend start to get to know her. your friend is kind of a dick, but that's just how he is. as you get closer with this girl, you start to convince yourself that you like her—you don't. you think she's gorgeous and you think you're supposed to fall in love with her, but you haven't. and in your efforts to love her, you do something that hurts her, your friend egging you on, trying to get you to go further, double down, and the girl pulls away from you. she doesn't look at you like she used to. she won't stand close to you and her new boundaries are clear—she needs you to keep your distance and you're not going to be able to fix this completely, not ever. and you understand that, and you're a kind person, so you are as respectful towards her as you know how. again, your friend is a dick about the whole thing, which doesn't make you feel better at all. maybe you shouldn't feel better. because you started it. you told yourself you were going to love her and you didn't and you did it wrong. and now that you've fucked it up for good, you feel yourself starting to look at her differently than you did before, just like she's doing now. but you're looking at her with shyness and gentleness and from six feet away, shrinking into yourself with a tiny glint of light in your eyes, while she stands stoic and tall, her eyebrows tensed and her mouth flat as you fumble your way through an attempt at aftermath-themed small talk, her responses short and clipped and knowing. she knows what's happened to you. she knows why you're looking at her like that. and she knows that you know that you lost your chance and you're not getting the same chance back and definitely not in the same way. and when she asks you for a small favor or wishes you well, you skip away, your voice soft and light and far too gentle, so fucking gentle, and you know that she hates you a little bit. and you know that now, only after, you love her a little bit. and then you wake up. what do you do then?

[mynicknameisgasoline]

Incorrect Quotes pt. 2/3???

1.

y/n: Why are Klaus and Ben sitting with their backs to each other Luther: They had a fight. y/n: Then why are they holding hands? Luther: They get sad when they fight.

2.

y/n's helping Ben out after he got injured, while the others are watching Diego (Bc he cant see Ben and only Klaus and y/n can) : How does Ben look? Klaus: A little better than you, actually.

3.

Klaus: Gently taps table Ben: Taps back y/n (doesn't know morse code): What are they doing? Diego (knows morse code since he's batman): Morse code. Klaus: Aggressively taps table Ben: Slams hands down YOU TAKE THAT BACK-

4.

Klaus: Am I going too far? Ben: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison. y/n (already in prison): PRISON BUDDIES!

5.

y/n: God, give me patience. Ben: I think you mean 'give me strength'. y/n: If God gave me strength, you'd be dead. Ben: ... y/n: OH SHIT I DIDN'T MEAN IT IM SORRY!!!!

[xann-z-the-artsy-enby]

Of course NOW I have motivation for my main story when im SUPPOSED to be working on LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE

[inkprilled]

Let's be honest.

Let's be truthful.

When you meet your own eyes in the mirror

Can you recognise or a least reconsider

The apathy

That you let cling to thee

It's carefully downing you

It feels a secure embrace

But you're afloat

You've lost the boat, to passion, to joy, to meaning

It's calling out

ahoy

Where did you go

I see your eyes meet mine in the mirror

I see what once was starting to flicker

Are you but a ghost

A lost dream turning thinner.