#so you want to start a writeblr

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[graceful-not]

*grabs you* if the members of the found family aren't at least a little bit fucked up about each other what's even the point man. if the lines aren't even a little bit blurred when it comes to roles what's the point. buddy. pal. what's even the point of having a found family and then imposing strict nuclear family roles unto them, or never allowing the roles they do have to be bent or broken. what's even the point if one character (assuming they're the same age) is ALWAYS being taken care of by the other without it being related to one of their arcs. what's even the point if the found family doesn't take care of each other. what's even the point if they're normal about having people they are so so close to so as to trust with nearly everything and stick with and sweat bleed and die for. what's even the point if the roles arent flexible and based on a foundation of trust over any kind of imposed relationship, and the dynamics shift for what is needed in the situation. what's even the point if they're not a little bit in love about it. they need to LOVE EACH OTHER. what's the point if they are being kept at a distance the same to that of an acquaintance and it's not part of their greater arc or bc of their character. let them sleep together. let them cuddle. let them kiss (not necessarily romantically!!! on the forehead or the hand or a little peck on the top of a head). I'm so sick of sanitized found families I need them to care about each other so much it hurts they need to think about the others way too much do you get it. I don't want it to be a replacement for a real family I want them to Frankenstein together a new creation it needs to be elevated it needs to be bleeding and raw it needs to be REAL I want it to be ALIVE. WHY are your found family dynamics so fucking DEAD!!!! STOP SHOVELLING ROTTING MEET INTO MY MOUTH I CAN TELL ITS DEAD I CAN FUCKING TELL WHEN ITS DIVIDED SO CLEARLY BY CARETAKER/WHUMPEE WHY IS IT SO ONE-WAY THE FAMILY TAKES CARE OF EACH OTHER THEY DONT NEED TO BE JUST ONE ROLE. A PERSON CAN BE A FATHER A MOTHER A MENTOR A TEACHER. A BROTHER AND FRIEND IN SOLIDARITY OR EVEN A LOVER IF IT IS NEEDED. DO YOU GET IT. DO YOU GET IT.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

Fellow writers who come up with wild and/or complicated as hell worldbuilding! Share some of your highlights!

I'll go first:

Two major systems of currency that dramatically increase and decrease in value across the continent in direct conjunction with which particular major country is closer;

Magical person-eating eels who have their own entire society underneath a particular city that never becomes relevant because they think everyone else is frustrating and terrible, who have exactly one (1) ambassador to interface with the outside world but who decided that everyone else was (still) frustrating and terrible and now works as an assassin for hire instead of doing that and just sends the occasional trade good back home with their stipend;

Pseudo-electricity that works by summoning spirits from outside of the world to come hang out in your batteries

[abugsjournal]

as a barista the urge to write an arthur morgan coffee shop au fic is so strong

[millennium-keyblade]

HATE IT when my personal favorite character is also everyone else's and people drop a tumblr blue anvil on the bastard til theyre as 2D and babygirlified as they come. Bitch that is a narrative tool it will NOT survive in captivity

[revasserium]

my favorite thing about stories, be it books or manga, tv shows or movies, or even epic poems and recited songs, is that they never really end -- the part we tell might end: there will always be a last page, or a last episode, a list minute, or a last line, but not really -- because even if it ends here, the story itself keeps on going -- in your heart, in your mind, in the hearts and minds of everyone who's read it or watched it, listened to it or sang it.

and the best part of all that is, even if it does "end", you can go right back to the beginning and start again.

because yes, stories end. the ending will always be there.

but then, so will the beginning.

[spacedoutman]

【𝙈𝙖𝙮𝙗𝙚 𝙞𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 | 𝙆𝙞𝙨𝙨 𝙖𝙪】

(𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙩)

Description: The world crumbled but their love stayed intact. Caught in a firefight over food, Paul's been shot. Does Ace have any hope of pulling him through or pulling through this at all?

♥ Paul Stanley x Ace Frehley

Note: The fuck? I actually have to copy these little formats from each of my fics and something stuck from Pygmalion I thought I fixed. I KNEW something was off sksk (it was also super late when I did this haha))

Warnings: Blood/Grief/Death

𝙖𝙤3

Paul slammed against the wall. The ground thundered like a volcano about to erupt. Gunshots jetted, cutting down overgrown vines like a saw. Paul’s heart drug a muffled beat. He took a shaky breath of the thick musty air through clenched teeth.

“Is e-everyone alright?”

Paul fought his head. It blurred. The faces around him, down, up or rushing across the decayed floor smeared. His world swayed like a tree in the wind. Frantic shouting clashed in his ear. Ace drug himself up by a string, staggering forward and hitting the wall beside someone else. Paul’s hand went white around the pistol—the other red.

He clenched his stomach. His blood pumped. It felt like he’d stuck his hand in a void. An even stream of blinding light bleached the building through the massive gap in the wall, somehow climbing over the buildings collapsed like dominoes and rubble-conquered streets. Ace tossed his arm out pistol in hand. He shot off a few rounds into the distant rubble or vivid blue sky outside.

Paul’s legs wobbled. Seeing something other than a bird or two after all these years would be nice.

“We’ve got to surrender.” A horrified voice grated Paul’s ears.

“T-This isn’t the end.”

Paul choked out. Paul.. choked out? His eyes shot wide. Ungodly wide. His breaths sped up. “We’ve got to eat.. what we came for..” Paul groaned. His legs turned to jello. He stumbled back. Every pinch of air in his lungs fled. He hit the rocks. Glass crunched. Everything waved in and out. Red burnt his eyelids. Singing birds soothed his mind like a lullaby before-

“Paul!”

A polished suburban house, surrounded by an ocean of green bathed by soft sunlight and a little American flag off the porch flashed. There was a grill on the lawn.

Paul smiled. His heart tried to flutter. His chest and throat loosened. A little more air slipped into his lungs. He curled into a tight ball. Two warm hands swept him up. Black took over his vision. Yelling boomed. Paul shut his eyes as tightly as possible. Echoes of pain crept through him distantly. Cool seeped through his bomber jacket.

Ace held it together.

“Y-You’re gonna’ be alright, Paul..” Pain grasped Ace’s shuddering voice like a lover.

“I’m.. I’m not. I know it.” His hand crawled onto Ace’s. “If those bombs go off.. all ten stories are going to collapse. You.. You can’t carry me out.” A bit of certainty spiked.

“Please.” Ace’s eyes shot wide, he quickly shook his head. “Don’t say that..”

“You can’t.. I’m dead.”

Ace grabbed Paul’s hand. Some feeling like vibrant colors exploded. Paul couldn’t help but to grin. “I love you.” He whispered, laying his head on Ace’s chest. The chaos around them died. Ace hugged him tightly, pulling him as close as possible. Tears poured down their faces like a river, soaking their shoulders.

Ace clutched him. He swallowed sobs. Paul took a deep breath, savoring the gentle homey smell clinging to Ace’s leather jacket. Iron coated his tongue.

“I’m not letting you go.” Ace forced strength into his voice. “I can’t.”

“But you gotta’ live..” Paul faded into murmurs.

“I swear to god—we’ll get out, I swear..!”

“You will.”

The suburban house flashed. Ace relaxed on the stairs, dressed in something clean with a grin shining on his bright face. Another person slammed into the heavy duty crates. Paul sunk into Ace. Ace shut his eyes as tight as he could. Paul’s limbs loosened in milliseconds. His smile spread into a grin.

“I always imagined us with kids..” Paul’s features softened. A little light sparked in his voice. “.. How many would you want?”

“Don’t leave me.”

“It’s gonna’ be okay, Ace.. you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“Don’t talk like that. We..we still have a future.”

“Maybe in another life.”

“Paul?”

“Think of it..”

“Paul. We have people in the future waiting for us—w-who don’t even know our names!”

…

“Paul?”

[poetinprose]

OC: Thanea Wächter

I learned to become as invisible as the creatures were for all the others. I didn't tell anyone anything about the beings anymore. Until I met you.

Pronouns: she/her

Age: 25

Species: Human (??)

Occupation: Librarian at a university

Thanea learned early on that she seems to be the only human who can see behind the veil that hides the supernatural. Neither her parents nor her brother do. In school she got bullied a lot and sent to therapy by her parents for seeing/imagining things.

At some point she stopped wondering why she had this connection with magical creatures and just accepted it, trying to live in line with both worlds. She became very reserved and wary of humans, tries to not let them too close in fear that at some point the instances where she can't hide her ability will drive them away again - or worse.

But she's also naturally curious so when Nevras shows up with the possibility to find out more about herself she can't say no.

☆ Aeternum tag list (lmk if you wanna be added/removed!): @deadlycupid @starlitcrossroads ☆

Aeternum WIP intro

[serenanymph]

how well would your ocs do against a cockroach tag game

rules: yeah that's it. that's the tag. idk if anyone has done this before but rate your ocs by how well they'd do against a cockroach.

gonna be a lil annoying and tag a biiiiit more people sorry lol. no pressure to join in tho!!! and anyone else who wants to can hop in. @lyssa-ink @reneesbooks @macabremoons @space-writes @squarebracket-trick @scribbling-stardust @toribookworm22 @lorenfinch @sapphos-scientist @e-klair @arctic-oceans @sidhewrites @loopyhoopywrites @hallwriteblr @talesofsorrowandofruin @cream-and-tea

(anyway the rest is under the cut bcuz I have a LOT of characters so I'm gonna go a bit insane. Pulling from Beast as always)

Crys: - doesn't bat an eyelash, kills it easily - merciless, 10/10

Icarus: - a lil startled, will jump if it flies at him, but manages to catch it and set it free outside - 8/10. this boi is too good for this world

Rhyme: - begins by trying to smash it to a pulp - rapidly gets more and more irritated when she keeps on missing - finally lets out a primal scream of rage and fireballs it - 6/10 because she nearly burns down the house

Sol: - lets out an undignified squeak - leaves the room - if it flies at him he's sprinting out of there - 3/10

Dahlia - rolls up a newspaper and whacks it a few times?? like a normal person??? - 9/10

Beatriz: - faints - poor bbg can't handle the terror - 0/10 - alternatively shoots her feathers and skillfully punts it out the window - so overall actually 5/10

Honorary mentions

Iri and Yuan: - incoherent screeching - KILL IT KILL IT WITH FIRE - both trying to get behind the other - so many feathers embedded in the floor. so many - Iri scales up Yuan's back and stays there on his shoulders like an overgrown squirrel - 0/10

Jorge and Jordan - they catch it - and store it with their dozen other cockroaches used to prank people - 10/10, but I'm docking points for the malicious intent

[nangua]

@nosebleedclub prompt: carapace

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

oh callahan is giving lonan “I’ve lived long enough to love you” clark a run for his money when he comforts harrison by saying “find peace in me.”

[inkskinned]

they want to talk about mental illness and acceptance and how everyone is a little ocd it's cute and quirky and their "intrusive thoughts" are about cutting their hair off and you say yours are about taking a razorblade to your eye and they say ew can you not and everyone is a little adhd sometimes! except if you're late it's a personality flaw and it's because you are careless and cruel (and someone else with adhd mentions they can be on time, so why can't you?) and it's not an eating disorder if it's girl dinner! it's not mania if it's girl math! what do you mean you blew all of your savings on nonrefundable plane tickets for a plane you didn't even end up taking. what do you mean that you are afraid of eating. get over it. they roll their little lips up into a sneer. can you not, like, trauma dump?

they love it on them they like to wear pieces of your suffering like jewels so that it hangs off their tongue in rapiers. they are allowed to arm-chair diagnose and cherrypick their poisons but you can't ever miss too many showers because that's, like, "fuckken gross?" so anyone mean is a narcissist. so anyone with visual tics is clearly faking it and is so cringe. but they get to scream and hit customer service employees because well, i got overwhelmed.

you keep seeing these posts about how people pleasers are "inherently manipulative" and how it's totally unfair behavior. but you are a people pleaser, you have an ingrained fawn response. in the comments, you have typed and deleted the words just because it is technically true does not make it an empathetic or kind reading of the reaction about one million times. it is technically accurate, after all. you think of catholic guilt, how sometimes you feel bad when doing a good deed because the sense of pride you get from acting kind - that pride is a sin. the word "manipulation" is not without bias or stigma attached to it. many people with the fawn response are direct victims of someone who was malignantly manipulative. calling the victims manipulative too is an unfair and unkind reading of the situation. it would be better and more empathetic to say it is safety-seeking or connection-seeking behavior. yes, it can be toxic. no, in general it is not intended to be toxic. there is no reason to make mentally ill people feel worse for what we undergo.

you type why is everyone so quick to turn on someone showing clear signs of trauma but you already know the fucking answer, so what's the point of bothering. you kind of hate those this is what anxiety looks like! infographics because at this point you're so good at white-knuckling through a severe panic attack that people just think you're stoic. even people who know the situation sometimes comment you just don't seem depressed. and you're not a 9 year old white kid so there's no way you're on the spectrum, you're not obsessed with trains and you were never a good mathematician. okay then.

mental illness is trending. in 2012 tumblr said don't romanticize our symptoms but to be fair tiktok didn't exist yet. there's these series of videos where someone pretends to be "the most boring person on earth" and is just being a normal fucking person, which makes your skin crawl, because that probably means you are boring. your friend reads aloud a profile from tinder - no depressed bitches i fucking hate that mental illness crap. your father says that medication never actually works.

you still haven't told your grandmother that you're in therapy. despite everything (and the fact it's helping): you just don't want her to see you differently.

[reneesbooks]

snippet saturday

still not a thing but this is my blog and i make the rules and i'm THINKING about birdie and fabin. i swear i'll get back to jack and arthur in a second just let me scream about birdie and fabin for a minute

Emilia tucks her wings against her back, settling in the grass next to Birdie. “When do you think we’ll have to return to Morbhard?”

Birdie stares out over the fields, her pulse quickening. Emilia senses that she’s asked a question that Birdie doesn’t want to answer. Birdie lets out a long breath. “I’m not sure.”

A lie, but Emilia doesn’t question it.

Birdie glances at the sky. “The sun will go down soon. I should make preparations. It’s the full silver moon tonight.”

Emilia shrinks into her human form and sets her hand on Birdie’s shoulder. “I can make the tea if you’d like.”

Birdie smiles. “Thank you. That would be nice.”

Emilia returns to the cottage and puts the kettle on the fire, digging her toe into the floor as she mixes the herbs. As much as she trusts them, as much as they’ve all grown closer over the weeks and months at the cottage, Birdie is still hiding things.

The kettle finally starts to whistle and Emilia pours a cup of tea. She heads back out to the garden. Birdie is standing next to Fabin, clearly just arrived from the forest, smiling up at him as he complains that the deer are getting better at hiding. Her laughter dies abruptly as the silver moon’s light hits her, her preparations forgotten in the grass a few steps away.

Fabin backs away as Birdie’s silver light explodes outward, a pulse of magic flattening the grass in a circle around her. Her tripled voice shrieks, her hair lifting off her shoulders. The entire whites of her eyes burn silver.

Blood starts to run from her nose. Fabin shrinks and tries to step closer, shouting her name. Emilia grabs a washcloth and grips it tightly behind her back, the fabric straining as she twists it nervously.

Birdie’s eyes begin to bleed as well, silver light pulsing from her. Fabin grits his teeth and takes three more shaking steps through the waves to reach Birdie. He grabs her shoulders and Emilia hears him shout her name.

Blood is streaming from her eyes and ears now, the third recitation barely begun. Fabin winces as silver magic lashes out at him, cuts opening on his cheeks. He keeps hold of Birdie, shaking her shoulders, trying to wake her up.

The silver light fades and Birdie’s eyes roll back. She collapses and Fabin catches her, lowering her slowly to the grass.

“Shit.” Jack and Arthur freeze in the doorway of the cottage. “Is she okay?”

“Does she fucking look okay?” Fabin growls, glaring at them. He snatches Birdie’s handkerchief from where she’d left it in the grass and starts to gently wipe the blood from her face. Emilia picks up the cup of tea again and moves cautiously. Birdie’s eyelids are fluttering, though she is limp in Fabin’s arms.

“The tea for her throat,” Emilia says quietly, when Fabin looks up at her with another growl. “I’ll look at those cuts.”

“I’m fine.” He holds the teacup to Birdie’s lips and Emilia flinches at the audibly painful gulps. “Birdie, can you hear me?”

Her silver eyes flick up to his face before fluttering closed again. She tucks her face into his chest.

Fabin leans down to murmur something to her that Emilia doesn’t hear. He presses his cheek to the side of Birdie’s head and Emilia stifles a gasp, averting her eyes.

Fabin stands with Birdie in his arms. “She needs to rest,” he says, not looking at any of them. He winces as he adjust his hold on her and Emilia wonders what other damage Birdie’s backlash did.

He says nothing else as he carries her into the house. Emilia bites her lip as Jack and Arthur turn to her with wide eyes. “I’ll make some more tea.”

[memento-morri-writes]

So, I have 14.5 unread books in my room, which inspired me to count how many (fiction) books I have in my bedroom, and the answer is 262. And I have at least 3 more on pre-order. Ugh, I wish I hadn't gotten rid of a bunch of books when I was in middle school. I would definitely have at least 300 by now if I hadn't...

(And an ever-growing number of them are books by writeblr people!!)

[sparkles-oflight]

Hello, to the 6 people reading my fanfic (I'm sorry, I literally get so excited when I get kudos or any kind of interaction in my story hehe):

Chapters 6-8 won't have much Jan, Jure and Nace content....I was considering writing an extra chapter through Jan's POV. What do ya think?

[queriesntheories]

i love you dream realisations, i love you shared dreams, i love you dream fights, i love you dreams that physically affect the dreamer, i love you dream people based on memories of lost loved ones <3

a trope being a trope isn't bad, it's how you use it to tell a story that defines it