#writerscribbles

[nightmareevara]

Fuck sex, let's talk about your insecurities so I can heal those for you.

[anastasiasyah]

You don't have to choose me but I will always choose myself

— "Our Story" from A Eulogy of Resurrection by anastasiasyah

[a-dreamersjournal]

Letting Go is No Art.

They call it “The Art Of Letting Go”. If that’s the case, I refuse to call myself an artist.

There was nothing artistic about the way my ribs cracked open, my heart threatening to leap from my chest—just to touch you with its bare flesh one last time.

There was nothing poetic about the way you flinched when I handed your heart back to you, my scarred hands too unsafe for it now.

There was nothing graceful about the way our bodies became one on that last night we spent together, trying to consume each other like two mismatched puzzle pieces desperately trying to fit.

Yes, you were art, but letting you go wasn’t.

It was the death of a muse, leaving me bereft of inspiration. It was the silence after a symphony—deafening and unkind. It was the fraying of a tapestry, each thread unraveling painfully.

And poetry be damned- It was the end of us. Don’t you understand? This ugly tale of ours is ill-suited for any beautiful metaphor. Undeserving of any tender recollection. Unworthy of every mention.

They call it “The Art Of Letting Go”. And if that’s the case, I refuse to call myself an artist.

Because what remained after we let go were our disfigured hearts, Bathed in ruin—scarred, imperfect, and undone by what we used to call love.

[the-ellia-west]

------------------------------------- Hey there! Hi! You! Tumblr user!

Are you a fan of epic fantasy? Want a story with romance, action, and sassy heroes and villains? How about some good old-fashioned ANGST?

If so, you're in luck! Get ready for the upcoming release of The Cursed One's Throne (TCOT for short), coming... well, eventually!

A story of trauma, war, recovery, trust, and love intertwined with curses, magic, sacrifice, and a few too little hours of sleep. Who needs a release date when you've got me, the very entertaining author, right?

Take a quick look at this post to get to know me better!

BTW! I also have a side Blog! Check out @jakkon-and-rose-topic if you want to see Some actual writing!

-----------------------------------------

I post in #Ellia's ramblings, #Ellia's TCOT, and #Ellia TCOT

WTF is TCOT?

Sneak Peek

Worldbuilding

Music

TCOT ships

Cover By @blisslabyrinth

And here's some art of my characters by my friend @pastellbg

She is amazing, go follow her RIGHT NOW!

It is required :]

[maxinewisewrites]

heartbeats

I met you  just as I came of age.

I shall leave only when the ages cease.

Here I beat  to cherish you.

[richglinnen]

Washcloth

Every morning I have to take down my hooked heart, which is still stiff in my hands with the belief that it hangs, and pour onto it warmth from somewhere beyond myself, so it might soften and cleanse again.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🔻Tier 3 Patron-exclusive PAC at the end🔻

☆°・. Hustlin’ a la Goddess .・°☆ | Punk Girl Culture

A while back on Pinterest I saw a really cool quote like this: ‘I hustle like a man because I was raised not to depend on one.’ I understood what it’s trying to say and where it’s coming from; and above all, it really is an empowering idea considering how many women in this world are totally loser-like because their willpower is weak HA But the thing about that quote is…

It got me reminiscing about how I used to be a terrible, terrible workaholic caused by a toxic childhood that had been the complete opposite of that. In my past reality, I hustled like a man exactly because I had been groomed to depend on one. KABOOM!

In a toxic household was a psychopath that worked devilishly hard at having little girls believe that a woman is inherently—by nature—dependent on men. That our survival is at the mercy of men’s charity. Thus a woman must seek to marry a rich man if she wishes to live a happy life. Mind you, this wasn’t a simple case of a shallow Boomer who had grown up in a different era; this really was a psychopath who delighted in creating false realities for little girls to grow up and become absolute losers, in the hope that they never would surpass—never would become better than her.

I was only seven when I began to give that narrative a fuckton of thought. I loathed the idea that a woman is this kind of a helpless creature only because she was born with a vagina; that a woman would never survive without a man’s protection or provision; that a woman’s highest priority in life is to be attractive enough (whatever that means) to seduce a rich man so he wants to marry her. I LOATHED IT. I fucking despised it. What an insult to Love!

At any rate, by age seven, I had come to notice the bullshit that was often spewed by that psychopath. I refused to accept that degrading idea so I began to think and behave differently. I thought to myself one afternoon in the shower:

‘So a marriage is only necessary because of the money, right? But that’s an old people thing. This is a different era—I will make my own money when I grow up. So then, that means I don’t need to get married. I won’t allow myself to become dependent on a man. I don’t want it.’

And so it was that I grew up to become a hustler more resilient than most men because I wanted to rebel against the grooming of the psychopath. It was like a weird coping mechanism or overcompensation or something—not sure which term is more correct LMAO I grew up wanting to be seen as tough and not needing a man’s gentlemanly assistance. I hated being helped by men like, what, you think I can’t help myself? I was always able to help myself.

The problem is… I became way too tough. Waaay too tough for one short girl. I had come to hold myself to impossible standards. I thought that if a man could manage to do this or that, I should be able to do and achieve just the same. My brain is very capable! What’s stopping me?!

The reality of the limits of my physiology (tiny!🤪) as well as my psychology as an autistic girl had not become clear to me at this point. But as the wheel of fortune would have it, at some point in Life my eyes were opened to the very idea of my girlhood and I woke up to the realisation that a woman shouldn’t have to work so hard in Life. DIVINE FEMININE, BEBEH!

One cold and rainy October evening I was lying on my bed, broke as fuck, single as a stick, hungrier and lonelier than a stray cat, feeling all defeated in Life I thought about all of this and repeated to myself quite amusingly miserably:

‘I’m a girl. I’m just a girl. And a really tiny one at that. I shouldn’t have to work so hard. I don’t wanna have to work so hard. I shouldn’t be made to work SO hard. I wanna be someone’s baby girl!’

And I cried and I cried about the fact that I had been so unkind to myself as a girl. That I had allowed society to convince me that it was okay to be so impatient with myself in the name of professionalism! And I cried and I cried because now I was realising I’m really such a soft lovely polite girl who had been forced to fight for I didn’t even know what for the longest time trying to just meet the expectations of a batshit crazy world full of terribly gaslighty psychopaths…

I cried for three days straight, no cap. My youth… My entire Life… For what… And where did that lead me? It’s given me nothing. NOTHING.

By the end of the third day, I made a resolve to treat myself more kindly, more gently because girls are meant to be held with tender care and Love♥︎For the first time in my Life I was able to wholeheartedly accept that I was a girl LMAO That sounds funny but I wasn’t struggling with gender dysphoria—no, I don’t think that ever was the case but… umm… though I always liked the fact that I was a girl, somehow, there was also a part of me that used to view myself as just-a-14-year-old-boy-who-likes-to-play-video-games. I couldn’t even comprehend why I had an appearance that would be considered attractive by men💩

At any rate, so it was that I had held myself captive to impossibly stupid standards of conducts because I wasn’t aware enough of my biology, physiology, as well as psychology as a Goddess! Thinking about it now, it’s so bizarre I lived like that and even managed to survive pushing myself so hard even on those motherfucking days of murderous cramps *wink wink* One time I shed tears feeling so sorry to my younger self because I wasn’t gentle or patient enough with her.

I think the feminine force is supposed to be the embodiment of love and comfort. I think being a girl means I am deserving of an effortless existence. Say what you want if you’re a feminazi, but I want to live enveloped in lightness and ease. I think a girl deserves to be taken care of unconditionally because she’s so complexly fragile and delicate. No, it’s not a weakness. A flower’s delicateness is not a failure. Nor is a butterfly’s fragility useless.

We, are creatures of beauty. And when I was awakened to that reality, I learnt that the first thing I needed to do was stop being an enemy to my fragile beauty. I resolved to hold my femininity in highest regard and not continue to hurt myself with unrealistic expectations based on the male standards of conduct. It had to start with myself because the brainwashed world outside of me was never going to give this to me.

‘I simply do not want to hustle like a man anymore. I don’t think it suits me at all. More important, I don’t think the way men hustle is the standard of a good character! I don’t think they know what they’re doing.’

I, am a feminine force, baby—I don’t chase; I attract. When I hustle, I’m gonna hustle a la Goddess because that’s what I AM. The feminine, the yin, the abstract, holds the magick of the creation of the Universe. Literally I can manifest all I need effortlessly by just breathing calmly and being pretty—in harmony with the melodies of the Cosmic Vibrations💗

Gosh, why didn’t I figure this out earlier?!

I think I’ve now made peace with the homme and femme within though. I think, I’ve pretty much stopped being angry about the ways I used to hustle like a man—posing numerous dangers to myself both physically and spiritually. Ecologically, bish, that wouldn’t have been sustainable in the grander scheme of things!

I still have alternating days I feel more like an homme and a femme every so often but I’ve got to say I like me best on the days I feel most indulgently girly👗On such days, I feel the world is so fine because I’m a woman👒I feel everything is just gonna fall into place eventually because my Goddess Magick is taking care of my Reality. All is well in Divine Timing, my baby girl🎀

And god forbid—I don’t need no man to give that to me either!😉

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PGC Masterlist] [Patreon] [Paid Readings]

🍃🪨����🧚🏻‍♂️

🔻Tier 3 Patron-exclusive PAC🔻

[Breaking Conventions with Determined Softness]

your glamorous talent

empowering the soft girl

hustlin' a la Goddess

🍃🪨🍄🧚🏻‍♂️

[abrighterspark]

attention please

i'd like to leave

but these pleasantries

hold me in scene

[deepjams4]

Simplicity & Positivity!

[inksplashgirl]

170

I’ve been gaining weight lately

My five foot six inch frame is packing enough

For the Body Mass Index to call me obese

And yes,

I know that thing was created when doctors were still prescribing cocaine,

But isn’t the princess supposed to be smaller than this?

Maybe I’m just the chubby, well-meaning housekeeper

Or the best friend with three lines, hyping up the main character

I know that everyone is supposed to be the protagonist in their own story, but my story has always been about everyone else

And now that I’m fat, I know why.

I laugh at how big I felt at one forty five, a weight I held for over two years.

I’ve gained twenty five fucking pounds in a short enough time that even my doctor is concerned.

I thought that eating enough for the first time in my life was a good thing, and now I’m fighting to open my mouth for a single french fry.

Maybe if I was thin…

[papersofdiki]

find me on insta @dikiwords

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

Swimming

Cw: Swearing

Rose fidgeted as she looked at the water. "Alright. See you on the other side?"

"Yes. I... I'll see you eventually..." Jakkon nodded, forcing a smile as Rose leaped into the air and swooped easily over the expanse of water.

Silas glanced at Jakkon. "Do... do you want to go first?"

"No. Why don't you go?"

"I can't... I... uh..."

"You can't swim."

"What? How did you know?" Silas hesitated.

"You're made of gold Silas. It wasn't difficult to figure out, and you've been alive for only a month. How would you know regardless?"

"Fine. You're right! I can't swim! But what am I supposed to do? Why don't you just go on ahead and I'll go around?"

"I'd rather not leave you behind."

"What can we do them? Make you carry me?" Silas' shoulders slumped.

"No." The Satyr tilted his head at the water, thinking.

"Why don't you go across some other possibilities that might open then, and you can always come back over!"

Jakkon stopped. He frowned. "Fuck. You know what? I don't care. I can't swim either, that's why."

"What-"

"Shut up. These legs don't work for it, and these Horns don't exactly make me the fastest in water." He scowled. "Now, not a word of this to the others, you hear me?

"Alright." Silas smiled. "So we find a way around?"

Jakkon rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. "A way around indeed."

[anastasiasyah]

"The fact that you're a terrible person won't stop me from loving you."

— 10/06/24 by anastasiasyah

[a-dreamersjournal]

Writing is my curse.

Writing is a disease—it truly is. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t feel so infested with words all the time, like remnants of a virus spreading through my veins. Each vessel carries them, replacing every cell, every platelet, with wretched syllables—a testament to the torment shadowing my existence. I want to stop.

Stop the words from bleeding out of me, stop spilling prose from every cut on my skin. I feel like a vessel cracked open, spilling ink instead of blood, a broken jar that can never be sealed. I want to cease inhaling the weight of my being, and stop exhaling poetry in return.

Let me be free from the snares of these words. I don’t need any more evidence of my sorrow. I don’t want to record my suffering anymore. I feel sick—so sick—and I’m terrified that the next time I purge, it’ll be words again. More words. More pieces of my heart, more fragments of my soul, spilling out until nothing is left.

Until the void inside me stretches endless and terrifying, a hollow abyss I’m too afraid to face. It yawns like a black hole, hungry and infinite, pulling me in even as I resist.

Don’t strip me of myself. My grief is all I have left. Take that away, and all that remains will be a husk—a corpse with withering skin and crumbling bones. What was once my solace has now consumed my life, devouring me from within, demanding to be set free.

And yet, as much as I long for release, I know I cannot stop. The words are both my disease and my cure. They fill the void, even as they carve it deeper—an endless cycle, as infinite as the abyss within me. In the end, it doesn’t matter. The words will escape, as they always do, and I will fade. A mere shadow of who I once was, left behind in fragments of ink.

A memory, and nothing more.

[the-ellia-west]

EXCUUUUUUSE MEEEEEEE TUMBLR?

WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME I HIT 200 FOLLOWERS????

WHAT

Holy Shit this is amazing!

Um... Thank you all so much for this!

I don't have much to give you... But um...

Here's my 200 (*3) Follower Special I guess!

@goodluckclove @danielleitloudernow @aestheic-writer18 @justalittlebuddy @kia-is-poisoned @deluluriddhi @jeremy-no @nkikio @sunnyjustice @latay7 @darkandstormydolls @ryahisbored @phoenixradiant @willtheweaver @somethingclevermahogony @illarian-rambling @thepeculiarbird @agirlandherquill @baconandeggs-25 @jesusfreakspeaks @supersoakerfullofblood @sl-vega @ajgrey9647 @smudged-red-ink @pastellbg @clever-naming-convention

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TCOT Prologue Sneak Peek

-------------------------------------------------------------------

The hidden caves remained dark save for moonlight as Sokuna’s scaly hand set the sparkling vial against her daughter’s lips. The Shade steadied her uncertain emotions as the last of the silvery contents left the glass. She rubbed her thumb over a drop that fell onto her daughter’s compressed wing to erase the remaining evidence. The door creaked open behind her and she stood. “It is done,”

The figure in the doorway folded Sokuna in an embrace and brushed the tears from her face, his feathers swishing softly against her skin.

“Reon, what will we do if she doesn’t remember us?”

Reon squeezed his wife’s shoulders. “We’ll raise her just like we did the first time, but safer.”  He lifted her hands and brushed his lips gently over her knuckles. “Ready? 

“To be rid of this cursed place?” Sokuna squeezed her husband’s hands. “Never more so.”

“Then let us hope to the stars this works my love.” Reon cradled his daughter with his wings, her weight heavy yet soft against his arms. He paused for a moment, looking back at the room. “This is the only home I’ve ever had. It feels strange to leave it behind.”

Sokuna gave her husband an encouraging smile. “Home is what we’ll build together.”

Reon shifted his daughter’s weight as they snuck through the winding hallways, a sinister weight in the air pressing down on them as voices echoed in the back of Sokuna’s head. Traitor. Liar. Enemy. Betrayer.

Sokuna crept past her battalion’s quarters, wincing each time her talons clicked against the stone.  She shuddered. The screams behind closed doors, the crimson stains of a friend scrubbed cleanly from old stone. No, they would make it out. They had to.

Light from the First Lieutenant’s open door caught her eye, and a voice muttered within. She poised to run. But after a moment, the shade allowed herself a small sigh of relief— he had been known to talk in his sleep. She held up an open palm and Reon stopped. Sokuna peeked inside.

The Lieutenant sat on a tall, stiff wooden stool, his massive wings hanging behind him so they touched the floor while the Lieutenant’s face pressed into the very same papers he’d been working on, a small splash of ink smudged on his cheek as he mumbled a few incoherent words and shifted his arms, hiding most of his face. She waited a moment and then waved Reon forward. 

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I hope y'all are just as excited for TCOT as I am!

I love you guys <3

[maxinewisewrites]

White sweater, a cup of piping tea

nowhere to go except deep within.

On my own as always happy with

these choices selected from a deck.

Snow’s melting down, a choice made

by the Earth to cry down a little more.

Water-soaked letters piled on the counter

singing carols of doom and gloom.

Mundane-flavoured days to go around

for all the dreamers who forget to open

their eyes at the first glimpse of dawn.