Alright, Ive Seen This Introduction Game For Writblr Bouncing Around, Started By @iloveyou-writers ,

Alright, I’ve seen this introduction game for writblr bouncing around, started by @iloveyou-writers , and thought I’d give it a go, because I know like. Nobody else on here lol.

Hi! I’m Archangel, or Arch, and I use she/her pronouns. I tend to traverse writing genres pretty freely, but my favorites (and most common) are fantasy, sci-fi, dystopia, heroes and villains, and horror. I’ll write anything though, so be warned. As far as tropes I love, it’s a lot of Hero Villain stuff, that one “Oh. Oh.”, hurt/comfort, anything to do with fae(is that a trope?), and of course, enemies to lovers. Also one bed. Sue me.

I would say I’m SFW, but everyday I am dragged towards NSFW, and it is entirely my friend’s fault. So uh. I may not stay SFW for long? I do tend to write a lot of mental health stuff, (including self harm, but more so healing from it/getting help), kidnapping, and hurt comfort, as of now. I don’t know what tropes I won’t write, but if someone ever asks for one (if one day, I am blessed with an ask 🕊️) and I realize I won’t write it, I’ll let you all know.

In my opinion, the best work I’ve ever written is either my half written, totally not mildly abandoned book The Edge of Truth, or my other book that is slightly close to being done and has no title, the poor thing. The Edge of Truth is entirely serial killer based and I love that the main point is to not only trick the characters, but the audience too, while leaving clues the whole time. Haha, foreshadowing. Also it’s lesbians so like. My no name book is superpowers based and has been a war to write, but I love the character dynamics and also my demon character. On here, though, my favorites are likely my Map of Fae story, or the one with the hero who can steal powers. I will not link them because tumblr hates me and I can’t make it work for the life of me :(

My favorite characters I’ve written are probably Riven, Mercy, Lucy, Melody, and Aletheia(but sometimes she actively fights me as I try to write her, which sounds over dramatic, but of course it does, I’m a writer.) (All of those are book characters that I’ve written so you likely won’t find them on here, at least for a bit)

One last thing is that I go absolutely feral for anything to do with fae, or other supernatural creatures. Also hurt/comfort. I’m lgbtqia+, and my writing is too, so check the homophobia at the door, and if you can’t part with it, then kindly find the nearest exit.

I’m also obsessed with the All For The Game series (It’s rather unhealthy, really), and my friend is relentlessly trying to get me to write megamind fanfiction. Sometimes my writing sounds British, but I’m not British, and I have no explanation.

Thanks for reading that horrifying essay, and I challenge these people to fill this out (I have very few writer friends and I’m very lonely so here are the few I know): @ettawritesnstudies @jtl-fics @save-the-villainous-cat @epiclamer @megreads22 @d-cs @lektricfergus @meadowofbluebells

Did I daydream this, or was there a website for writers with like. A ridiculous quantity of descriptive aid. Like I remember clicking on " inside a cinema " or something like that. Then, BAM. Here's a list of smell and sounds. I can't remember it for the life of me, but if someone else can, help a bitch out <3

Once a little boy went to school. One morning The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. He liked to make all kinds; Lions and tigers, Chickens and cows, Trains and boats; And he took out his box of crayons And began to draw.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make flowers.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make beautiful ones With his pink and orange and blue crayons. But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And it was red, with a green stem. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at his teacher’s flower Then he looked at his own flower. He liked his flower better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just turned his paper over, And made a flower like the teacher’s. It was red, with a green stem.

On another day The teacher said: “Today we are going to make something with clay.” “Good!” thought the little boy; He liked clay. He could make all kinds of things with clay: Snakes and snowmen, Elephants and mice, Cars and trucks And he began to pull and pinch His ball of clay.

But the teacher said, “Wait!” “It is not time to begin!” And she waited until everyone looked ready. “Now,” said the teacher, “We are going to make a dish.” “Good!” thought the little boy, He liked to make dishes. And he began to make some That were all shapes and sizes.

But the teacher said “Wait!” “And I will show you how.” And she showed everyone how to make One deep dish. “There,” said the teacher, “Now you may begin.”

The little boy looked at the teacher’s dish; Then he looked at his own. He liked his better than the teacher’s But he did not say this. He just rolled his clay into a big ball again And made a dish like the teacher’s. It was a deep dish.

And pretty soon The little boy learned to wait, And to watch And to make things just like the teacher. And pretty soon He didn’t make things of his own anymore.

Then it happened That the little boy and his family Moved to another house, In another city, And the little boy Had to go to another school.

The teacher said: “Today we are going to make a picture.” “Good!” thought the little boy. And he waited for the teacher To tell what to do. But the teacher didn’t say anything. She just walked around the room.

When she came to the little boy She asked, “Don’t you want to make a picture?” “Yes,” said the little boy. “What are we going to make?” “I don’t know until you make it,” said the teacher. “How shall I make it?” asked the little boy. “Why, anyway you like,” said the teacher. “And any color?” asked the little boy. “Any color,” said the teacher. And he began to make a red flower with a green stem.

~Helen Buckley, The Little Boy

“What would you give,” the villain drawled. “To save the world?”

The hero swallowed. Their arms hurt in the binding, pressed too tight against their skin.

“Everything.”

The villain tipped their head.

“Mmm. Lovely. But I have everything. Try again.”

The hero did know, they didn’t know what the villain wanted and the world was going to burn and people were going to die and it hurt—

“Whatever you want,” the hero blurted. “Take it.”

The villain smiled.

“You panic so pretty, darling.” The villain crouched down in front of them. They tipped the hero’s chin up with one elegant finger. “What I want,” they said slowly, like a secret. “Is you.”

“I—“

“You think yourself worth the world, then? I release you, and the world burns so you can stay free and live the rest of your meaningless life. After all, what’s a hero without anyone to save?”

The blood drained from the hero’s face. Their powers lay aching, stolen in their chest.

“No,” they said, and they weren’t sure if it was a plea or a command.

The villain stood.

“You or the world, hero. I’d take either, given the chance,” their eyes burned into the hero’s. “Choose.”

A tear, one, traitorous tear, slid down the grime on the hero’s cheek.

“Me,” they whispered.

Something dark simmered in the villain’s gaze.

“Look at you. Such a good hero, saving the world,” they cooed. They motioned a guard to haul the hero to their feet. “I’m going to have so much fun watching you break.”

The hero never saw the outside world again.

They just hoped it was safe.

OH HERE IT GOES AGAIN—

Good, Evil or Incapacitated

When Hero finally had the strength to wake up they groaned with the pain of bright lights overhead infiltrating their eyes. Softer than the LEDs from a medical room or hospital, but the burning was harsh nonetheless as it helped fuel their thumping headache.

Muted music played from a speaker nearby and the sound of someone singing off tune flowed choppily alongside. The smell of beef stew floated through the air as well as a constant clattering of spoon against bowl.

Everything around them felt so far away, like they were underwater and pain was the only receptor in their body that was working.

Shakily, Hero tried to pull themselves up off the couch they were laying on. Their brain cloudily registering that their mask was still on and their suit was in tatters from their chest down. Whatever else was touching their skin was put there by the stranger in the room.

They shivered at the thought of it being one of their enemies. A sadistic fuck that wanted to keep them here forever as their servant and plaything.

A villain that would go to the lengths of saving their life and healing their body, just to hurt them all over again.

Instead, as their body collapsed back against the squeaky sofa, they came face to face with the end of metal baseball bat and a very cautious looking civilian. They flinched and whimpered when it strained their wounds, closing their eyes and turning their head away.

“Don’t. Move.”

Hero didn’t need to be told twice, they were tired enough as it was. Even the slightest of movements were agonizing and exhausting.

They could hear the civilian taking careful steps forwards, the presence of the bat never leaving the hero’s senses. Unconciously their body braced for an attack, but it never came.

“You’re Hero, right?”

The question seemed so out of place in the moment, couldn’t they tell? Wasn’t it obvious with the emblem on their chest?

Hero peeled their eyes back open to a squint, taking a good look at their suit when they realized just how much blood the fabric had soaked up. Maybe the civilian had a point in asking…

“Y-yeah…” They coughed, unable to breathe through the shreds their throat was in from the dryness.

Tentatively, the other pushed a small side table closer. On which sat a glass of fresh water and a few pills that looked like ibuprofen. Hero reached for it with an uncoordinated hand and only spilt about half before it reached their chapped lips.

The civilian seemed unimpressed, lowering the bat slightly when they were sure the hero wasn’t going to be a hazard. Watching closely as the crime-stopper emptied the glass in a second, down their scratchy throat, before giving up and dropping it to the floor with a worn out huff.

“I-I’m on the g-good side, yknow? Y-you can put that thing d-down… I-I won’t hurt you.” Talking felt like a crime in itself, using their only strength to try and defend their innocence when they looked like something straight out of a horror film.

“I don’t care what you are.” The other shrugged, eyeing the hero defiantly. “Good, bad, sad, mad, happy, whatever. I couldn’t care less.”

Hero winced at how loud their voice was to their ears, even if they were sure the civilian was chatting casually it didn’t help their headache. “F-for someone so indifferent—” They grunted as they shifted their position. “Y-you seem awfully a-afraid.”

The civilian didn’t move, a puzzled look in their eyes before it seemed to dawn on them. “Oh, this thing?” They tossed the bat in the air with a spin, barely catching it as it came down. “This is merely to intimidate. At least, it’s harmless until you give me a reason to harm.”

“I c-come in peace…” Hero joked, holding their hands up peacefully but not with ease, they set them back down as the joke fell flat. “I-I’m guessing you d-don’t like supers?”

“Not since one of your little spats blew up my old house. No, never really been a fan.”

If the situation could’ve gotten anymore awkward, it did. Fights between heroes and villains could get bad and destruction was a given at this point, but having to actually encounter the affected was always the hardest part.

Now, they were at their mercy. Hero was beginning to think that a vengeful villain would’ve been a better kidnapper, rather than an angry civilian with a bat.

They couldn’t tell if it was the fever giving them the sweats or their own fear.

And now that they were really looking at it, the weapon was littered with dents and stains. Some brown and faded, others looked like they had been imprinted that same day. Bile rose up their throat when they could see blood that was still sticky coating the end.

“F-freshly used, huh?”

The civilian flipped the bat around effortlessly, one might’ve mistaken it for a dance. They raised their brows at the red before dropping it back to face the hero. “Had to use it this morning on your little friend. Tried to kill me the second they woke up.”

Hero must of visibly paled because the civilian’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Lazily, they walked over to a door across from where the hero laid, placing a hand on the door handle and turning it. Slowly revealing the room behind it.

“S-Sidekick?”

Through the darkness, Hero could barely make out the shape of an individual, hands tied to the headboard of a bed and white—almost florescent—bandages covering almost every tear in their uniform. At first the only imaginable person it could’ve been was Sidekick, but as their eyes adjusted…

“Say hello to your new roommate; Villain.”

I hit a tumblr milestone today! And now I am officially being followed by almost double the amount I follow so...

I need more writeblrs to follow!!!!!!!!!! Obviously

Please reblog/like/talk to me somehow if you're a writeblr that is:

Original writing only (sorry I'm not a fanfic person don't hate me)

Fantasy / Sci-fi / Horror (bonus if no or side-plot only romance)

Any type of minority rep, especially ownvoices

Especially disabilities and religious minorities!! I need moreeee where are youuuuu

Any queer stories, especially aro/ace/queerplatonic and nonbinary