#this is a writing tag

[vanderwoodlings]

Blair sighs as she shuts Henry’s door carefully, thinking about crying. She can, now that he’s asleep.

But she’s a little too tired.

The girl she was would’ve screamed at Chuck for this, would’ve left him and spiraled for weeks while Nate and Serena and even Dan scrambled around the wreckage trying to convince her to get her act together.

But she’s grown up. Maybe he’ll be cold or cruel or possessive or angry, remind her that she’s got her dark side too, but she doesn’t have the weeks to spend in the wake of Hurricane Chuck anymore. She has to keep her footing.

She’s learned to keep her footing.

Chuck is sprawled out on the couch, tie undone and shirt untucked. He lets out a faint snore.

Blair takes the glass from the coffee table, pours his nice brandy down the sink—he drinks it like water anyway—and rinses it out. Hiccups, not hurricanes.

She goes back into the front room and picks up Chuck’s shoes. In the morning, he’ll be all apologies and he’ll need his shoes to be where they’re supposed to go.

She thinks about putting them out on the balcony. It looks like rain, and they’re such nice leather.

She puts them in the neat gap between all the other pairs in his closet, goes back downstairs.

He’s still asleep. The couch will give him back pain. She’s not going to wake him up.

Blair realizes, a little distantly, that she is crying after all.

She leaves her husband to sleep.

[leofrith]

[fic] honor bound

fandom: assassin’s creed: valhalla

characters: eivor/leofrith, ceolbert, sigurd, ivarr, ubba, dag, ceolwulf, more to be added

rating: mature

warnings: canon-typical violence, others listed by chapter

In the absence of her jarl, Eivor finds herself tasked with the care and keeping of her entire clan, the young heir to the Mercian throne, and a former thegn who appears to be more ghost than man. Betrayed by his king and left for dead, Leofrith is set adrift without a purpose and living among those he once called enemies. But as they both set out to right past wrongs, they find that the line dividing friend from foe is thinner than it seems, and that purpose—and companionship—can be found in unexpected places. OR Leofrith has a crisis of faith, joins the Hidden Ones, and falls in love. Not necessarily in that order.

read here: chapter i

[cityelf]

this poem is about being nonbinary.

[so-many-ocs]

[on the verge of having a complete breakdown] i need to make some kind of list or perhaps sort things into categories

[samuelroukin]

they need to invent a writing that is easy. and fast also

[evidently-endless]

i think we should remind musicians they can absolutely make up little stories for their songs btw. it doesn’t have to be about them at all. you can invent a guy and put him in situations to music. time honoured tradition in fact.

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[kilgarraara]

"I guess I never really faced my fears before"

[frankierotwinkdeath]

Y’all want Taylor Swift to be gay so bad but you won’t even write femslash about her

[noodles-and-tea]

Icons, truly

[vanderwoodlings]

So do we ever think about Vanessa as the final girl

Vanessa and this mysterious world of darkness and glamour that horrifies her even as it seduces her best friend. Even as she attempts to save the boy with the big heart, to laugh with the girl with the easy smile, to break bread over a shared vengeance

Vanessa who can never go home again, because she’s never really been her mother’s daughter, but Blair Waldorf still looks her dead in the eyes and says some people are just better than others and she knows no matter how much Dan talks about being an outsider he’ll never be one like she is

Vanessa kissing a movie star. Wondering who the hell she is. Seeing some kind of mirror in Juliet Sharp but realizing that she’s just as morally bankrupt as the rest of them in the end

Vanessa with her life in shreds around her, covered in her own metaphorical blood as she questions whether she’s ever going to be the girl she was again, finding a manuscript that’s like gasoline and setting the house she just escaped from to burn. Admitting they’re all monsters there

It’s about how, of all of them, Vanessa never goes back

[leofrith]

[fic] a different kind of solace

fandom: assassin’s creed: valhalla

characters & pairings: eivor/leofrith

rating: explicit

status: complete

“You are far from home, Leofrith.” It is late afternoon, and the street is bustling with activity, but her voice cuts through the din, distinct in its sound even as its owner is barely more than a perfect stranger to him. He turns. The last time he saw Eivor Wolf-Kissed, she was covered near head to toe with the evidence of battle. Blood—some of it his own—painted her face, muck was caked in her hair, and sweat soaked her armor. She had been no less striking for it then, but now that she is clean and well-kept, he finds himself nearly struck mute. “I could say the same of you, Wolf-Kissed,” he replies. — Leofrith, having just returned from Rome with a restless spirit and bloodstained hands, meets a familiar face on the streets of Lincoln.

read here: part i | part ii | part iii

[beepboopappreciation]

Is this anything

[jonquilandlace]

[daisywords]

One of my biggest nitpicks in fiction concerns the feeding of babies. Mothers dying during/shortly after childbirth or the baby being separated form the mother shortly after birth is pretty common in fiction. It is/was also common enough in real life, which is why I think a lot of writers/readers don't think too hard about this. however. Historically, the only reason the vast majority of babies survived being separated from their mother was because there was at least one other woman around to breastfeed them. Before modern formula, yes, people did use other substitutes, but they were rarely, if ever, nutritionally sufficient.

Newborns can't eat adult food. They can't really survive on animal milk. If your story takes place in a world before/without formula, a baby separated from its mother is going to either be nursed by someone else, or starve.

It doesn't have to be a huge plot point, but idk at least don't explicitly describe the situation as excluding the possibility of a wetnurse. "The father or the great grandmother or the neighbor man or the older sibling took and raised the baby completely alone in a cave for a year." Nope. That baby is dead I'm sorry. "The baby was kidnapped shortly after birth by a wizard and hidden away in a secret tower" um quick question was the wizard lactating? "The mother refused to see or touch her child after birth so the baby was left to the care of the ailing grandfather" the grandfather who made the necessary arrangements with women in the neighborhood, right? right? OR THAT GREAT OFFENDER "A newborn baby was left on the doorstep and they brought it in and took care of it no issues" What Are You Going to Feed That Baby. Hello?

Like. It's not impossible, but arrangements are going to have to be made. There are some logistics.

[samuelroukin]

hell yeah brother