how i sleep knowing i write shitty fiction but at least don’t use chatgpt
will byers stan first human second
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ

ellievsbear
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
KIROKAZE
AnasAbdin
hello vonnie

blake kathryn
Claire Keane
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

@theartofmadeline
occasionally subtle

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Misplaced Lens Cap

Andulka
🪼
Sweet Seals For You, Always
DEAR READER
seen from Japan

seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from China

seen from United States

seen from Austria

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia

seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
@helecthra
how i sleep knowing i write shitty fiction but at least don’t use chatgpt
My abortion was really one the most hated kind of abortion. I wasn't underage. I wasn't raped. I wasn't in medical need.
I got pregnant not through some fluke or 1 in a 100 contraceptive failure. I got pregnant because I was knowingly and willfully having unprotected sex. Out of wedlock too if that matters.
It was my own fault, I was being irresponsible because I knew I could always get an abortion if I got pregnant. My abortion was as close as it comes to 'using abortion as a contraceptive' as anti-choicers love to say.
I didn't abort it because my health was in danger or because I didn't have the ability to care for it or whatever else. I did it purely because I didn't want a child. I wanted sex and I didn't want to deal with any consequences from it.
There's no moral here. I don't feel bad about it whatsoever. I suffered no karmic consequences or punishment from god. My life is amazing. I want to rub this in the face of every conservative and anti-choicer. I did the terrible thing. I had an abortion for the most selfish of reasons and literally nothing happened. Suck it.
I wrote this once before, but I saw this post and felt the need to say it again:
I was born in an extremely religious country in which, strangely enough, abortion was legalised fairly early on.
This doesn't actually mean it's easy to access to it, because of society's views on it, that trickle down on gynaecologists as well. About 70% of gynaecologists in my country consider themselves conscientious objectors, which means it is basically impossible to access voluntary interruption of pregnancy, except if the woman's life is at risk (or if you pay a shit ton of money in a private clinic, money that, often enough, one doesn't have).
This (sadly) doesn't mean we receive any kind of sex Ed in schools (no, not even the crappy kind often showed in films) or any real help/guarantees for new parents, so basically you just have to pray that the condom won't break, because it's near impossible to actually have an abortion and you have almost zero support if you actually decide to keep an unplanned baby. That said my country is now also trying to make those laws even more restrictives (ex banning abortive pills, prediliging the hiring of doctors, nurses and anestheticians who are C.O.etc.), hiding the way our governement tries to rule over women's bodies behind our rapidly decreasing fertility rate.
One summer, while I was still in high school, me and my friends had to drive for over ten hours to reach the only region of my country where the objectors rate it's lower than 15% because one of my friends couldn't wait two months for the only gynaecologist who performed it in our area. I was the only other girl in my friend group and, at my friend's request, I stayed with her the whole time. It was a traumatic experience, even not being the one having to undergo the procedure. Half of the nurses treated her like dirt and one of the counsellors (that are hired to help women or, more in general, people with a female reproductive system, in this kind of situations) started ranting about hell and damnation, while gripping my friend's wrist so hard it bruised. I literally had to pry the woman away from my friend and to throw her out, and I only managed to do so when I threatened to press charges.
While I always knew on an abstract level that in other countries, countries extremely close to my own, having access to abortion (or even to a morning after pill) was easy, easier than in my home country and decisely less frowned upon, it was all just news for me and I never really paid it much attention.
Then I left my country and studied abroad for a while and, during this time period, I met my partner. A couple of years later I discovered I was pregnant and I panicked. I was scared shitless because while I love kids, I hadn't planned on having one back then (or even now, to be honest). Even then I thought about it. If I decided to keep the baby I would have had actual support from the institutions, both economical and time-wise so my choice was actually mine and mine alone, not influenced by a frightening lack of resources.
I decided not to continue the pregnancy. I went to the clinic with my boyfriend and the procedure was quick, painless and nobody tried to make me rethink anything by guilt-tripping me with tales of eternal damnation.
I never felt any kind of guilt about it while living there. Nobody was forcing down my troath pro-life Ads or picketing the clinic when I went to do a check up specifically meant for people who had had a "traditional" abortion.
What I am trying to say is that, even if you don't know it there IS a right way to do things and we should all fight to make them available to the largest number of people we can.
Religious guilt is never gonna be the answer. My country tried to make it as such. Now our fertility rate is at an all-time low from which I don't think we will ever recover and there are whole generations of women literaly terryfied of falling pregnant, because if they do they are gonna lose their jobs and everything they worked for in their lives, without the possibility of actually making a choice on their bodies.
Religious guilt is never gonna be the answer, the possibility of chosing in authonomy for your body and for your future is.
And yes, it isn't perfectly relevant to the post, maybe, but Idgaf, because that was MY abortion, and it is extremely freeing to talk about it as such.
i have a lot of mental and physical demons to battle but i also have a lot of wanderlust which means my crash outs are never like "i should kill myself" and are instead more like "i should drop my life savings on a train ticket and leave this place with nothing but a backpack and a dream" . which i suppose IS better than suicidal ideation but is also a bit funny. dealing with mental instability like a disgraced historic businessman who flees to paris for a new life. a cry for help shaped like 12 firefox tabs all dedicated to reading travel blogs.
horror concept: you are a woman and you are getting married
Yeah, maybe also that.
Anti-revenge narrative this, anti-revenge narrative that, I personally think that Inigo Montoya had the right idea when he stabbed Count Rugen in the gut and said "I want my father back, you son of a bitch"
A lot of revenge arcs end with the hero saying "there's nothing you can do to bring my loved one back, so me seeking revenge is pointless." The Princess Bride's revenge arc ends with Inigo Montoya saying "there's nothing you can do to bring my loved one back, so there's nothing that can save you."
I am in quite a slump rn, which may be caused by exam season's exhaustion, my depression meds, my ADHD meds, a slight string of fights with my partner, my triplets being in a slight spell of seasonal (or not so seasonal, in one case) depression, my little brother going through puberty all at once and being insufferable (affectionate), a rough dry spell of writer's block, that may be or may be not aided by the fact that I am a bit of a Tinkerbell and my last works didn't really go great (which shouldn't matter, because I write for myself, and still), or being hounded down by people who comment my works without really reading them because they want me to buy their art, and I really really need...I don’t even know. But if anyone out here wants to talk, or give me prompts to write something or whatever, it would be marvelous.
On the bright side, I kinda see my colors again, which is nice, because I fucking LOVE pink (I think for you all it is orange or yellow, I belive, but for me is pink, because I have Tritanopia) and I missed it quite a bit.
TRUTH. What you need is imagination, and you don’t need to go anywhere to use it.
Yeah, sure, seeing new things is helpful as a fantasy writer. But. Don’t make the mistake of assuming that exposure to new things is the same as traveling. You know what else exposes you to new things? The internet. Documentaries. Books. Freaking Youtube. So when you’re bored of cats and cooking tutorials, go on an adventure!
You wanna write create some fantasy creatures but don’t know where to start? Go check out some videos The Weird Creatures Earth has Had.
Want some inspiration for your Super Evil Villain’s Villanous Deeds?
Or maybe you want some weird locations to kick start your Fantasy World Terraforming?
Or maybe you need knowledge of bunches of historical places and cities and cultures?
But maybe you’re basing fantasy on the modern world?
Okay but lets say you want to start from the same inspiration as GRRM? (and part two!)
That’s just the stuff I could quickly grab. Things I’m subscribed to, that I know offhand. There is So. Much. Stuff. Online.
The best thing about the internet is that it means its not just the fortunate sons that get to learn, and explore and imagine and write. We get to see stories from all over the place, from all sorts of people, who bring All Kinds of New Ideas.
I like you.
This!!! Also one of the most prolific and beloved adventures author of all times, the literal father of Italian adventure fiction, (yes, I know Adventure fiction isn't fantasy fiction, but bear with me), Emilio Salgari, literally never left Italy, which, I think, proves this point beautifully.
(Also he did it all like in the late 19th/early 20th century so, yk, nowadays it's EASIER).
Behind Blue Eyes entry 8
Garth has always loved Robbie’s eyes, those eyes that have always been as blue as the sea.
Looking at her and not seeing his homeland reflected back at him is a loss he can’t name.
But he remembers:
the sea can shimmer gold beneath the setting sun.
And Robbie is still herself.
The ocean still dances in her soul, waves still lap at her bones.
The riptides are still there, just under her skin.
She is alive, at least in some ways.
And that is enough.
That is everything.
"Dick was a terror of a child" "Dick was Bruce's least favorite child to raise" my love there are much easier ways to say that you do not like loud children than projecting it onto Bruce Wayne, who loved raising Dick Grayson's rambunctious ass so much that he gave 3 children a lifelong inferiority complex about it
babian and his dad big brother <3
I think I want to reconsider my life's choices and no, I am not talking about my brilliant future in aerospace engineering that I dropped just after my Master's degree because I hated it with all my heart. No. If that was the case I would probably be in the Chilean desert right now and not half-way through hypothermia.
Right now I am questioning why on earth I end up in Iceland every winter. I could have been smart. I could have been dating a Samoan and spend my winters in Opolu, but no, I chose love, so I have to eat liquorice, take showers that smell of rotten eggs (that honestly isn't that different from home) and freeze my ass off.
This is all to say that, if you don't hear from me anymore, is because I froze to death on an island in between the Atlantic and the freaking ARTIC Ocean.
Behind Blue Eyes entry 7
Roy HATES Robbie’s blue eyes.
Because those eyes tore them apart.
He loves those blue eyes too, that are similar to the eyes of his daughter, Lian.
Because they always made him wonder, wonder about another world, another chance, another version of them where they stayed.
But now those eyes are gone.
Replaced by gold, by Deathstroke (by the nightmare that has haunted her ever since they were kids).
And it feels wrong.
So, so wrong.
reblog if you love archive of our own and how they firmly refuse to let censorship have any place on their platform
Behind Blue Eyes entry 6
Tim likes Dixie’s new eyes.
Not because they’re gold.
Not because they’re beautiful, though they are (of course they are, they are still hers, after all).
But because they make her look less like a Wayne than she did before.
Less like him.
He can pretend their shared blood is a coincidence now, pretend that she is something separate.
Not quite family.
Not quite a reminder of his own shame.
Apparently, even being born color blind, a head trauma can make a person even more color blind.
*not me, curled in a corner while my (already limited) perception of colors shrinks down to a depressing gray scale.*
Apparently my vision should be returning to normal in the next six months, so yeah, I guess I'll be seeing my teal, maroon, light blue, red and pink shades again!
(Yep, if you are wondering, those are the only actual colors I've ever seen, even if, most of the times, they aren't the actual colors the rest of the world sees).
Apparently, even being born color blind, a head trauma can make a person even more color blind.
*not me, curled in a corner while my (already limited) perception of colors shrinks down to a depressing gray scale.*
how to tell mutual hey i think ur really cool we should talk more but like also im bad at talking and am always exhausted