#creative Tumblr posts

  • lemonsandolives
    24.10.2021 - 1 minute ago

    (Attempting To) Write Everyday For Thirty Days With Random Prompts

    Prompts:

    City, Patch, Attitude

    Short Story:

    It was hard living to the city, or, more of accustoming to it.

    It was constantly loud, honking, random screams, howls and yowls, some obnoxious, teenage neighbor blasting mumble-rap through the thin walls of the apartment complex, it was tiring, to say the least.

    But, at least it was something.

    Yup, even if the bathtub was stained with something (blood or feces, she didn't want to know), even if the toilet was always clogged and she could never use it, even if the small apartment always smelled slightly like used pads, and even if you could hear literally everything your neighbors did, wether it was a nighttime snack or a nighttime session, at least she had somewhere to sleep at night.

    And, at least that place she slept at night in was also conveniently near a mostly clean park and her minimum-wage job.

    If she was really being honest with herself, though, Romaine kind of hated it.

    At the bare minimum, she had the park.

    It was a big one, for the size of the city, showered with love from the gardeners and citizens. It was bright and colorful, lush green trees and grass, with beautiful flowers and fruits.

    It was a haven.

    Whenever things just got to be a little bit too much, which was often, Romaine would escape there, with her phone and a starbucks coffee, and, maybe, if she wanted to feel a little bit more "well rounded" she'd bring a book, in a little, secluded patch within the bushes.

    Today, she'd brought just a book, her favorite one. It smelled old, felt old, and was old, stained with coffee spills and smudges of dirt, clearly tattered and beaten, faded, golden ink clinging onto the hardback cover which read, "*insert your favorite book*".

    She had memorized all of it, the little bumps on the lower edge of the cover, the slight rip on the 56th page, the permanently folded corner of the 119th page, the imprint of a long-gone lily that had been pressed between the pages of chapter 50, the doodle drawn on page 120, all of it.

    Yet, every single time she read it, no matter how many times she visited it, it never got old. The fascination, the magic of the book was always there.

    Just waiting for her to open its pages.

    (A/N

    Helloooooooooooooooo!

    Kinda short but at least it's something lol =_=

    Idk much abt tumblr so sorry if this might sound like a wattpad chap or something

    But, yeah, thanks for reading, hope it wasn't too bad

    #challenge #30 day challenge #writing#my writing#creative writing#practice #probably will fail but it might be fun soo
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  • timelessdreamsprompts
    24.10.2021 - 5 minutes ago

    Prompt #287

    There were two herds of sheep belonging to the gods, one with golden fleece and the other with pitch black wool. Depending on which one you found first, they’d either give you a blessing or a curse.

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  • ashleyddddd
    24.10.2021 - 7 minutes ago

    Some progress. I think it's too bright, though, so I'm gonna darken it up a little. I just don't know how.

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  • darrenryan
    24.10.2021 - 16 minutes ago
    #the creative brief #via twitter
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  • justinokeithcreative
    24.10.2021 - 37 minutes ago

    Here comes the bride! Thank you to my law school section and classmate Tanisha Green for being my test model tonight so I can cement these new bloody burns and gore SFX makeup concepts! She had an amazing time bringing this makeup to life and is running around Houston now scaring all kinds of people with it LOL Model: Tanisha Green Makeup and Eye contacts from @themuaproject Stylist + Costume Designer + Creative SFX MUA + Artist + Photographer + Creative Visionary: Justin O’Keith Higgs of Justin O’Keith Creative Houston, Texas Book at justinokeith.com/commissions #justinokeith #justinokeithcreative #selcouthmeraki #rebirth #creativemonster #unapologeticallyprovocative #art #artist #photo #photographer #photography #halloween #houstonhalloween #creativephotographer #bodyart #bodyartist #legacy #creative #houston #dallas #texas #houstonbodyartist #houstonart #houstonphotographer #instagood #inspiration #sfxmakeup #sfx #bodyartist #bodyart (at The Make-Up Artist Project / The MUA Project) https://www.instagram.com/p/CVauYWQl_K3/?utm_medium=tumblr

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  • secret-code
    24.10.2021 - 43 minutes ago
    》 yves from loona; 211012 instagram post ♡ 》 250 x 250 icon set ♡ 》 free for use ♡
    #yves#ha sooyoung#loona#yves icons#loona icons#kpop icons#icons#edits#blockberry creative#gg#source: instagram #okay but she's soooo pretty? #it's unbelievable omg #i love this makeup look on her :pleading: #and the blue backdrop absolutely knocks it out of the park omg #chu.jpgs
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  • diycrochets
    24.10.2021 - 43 minutes ago

    Just finished this bag and I'm so happy with the result! by nissouBel

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  • msotherworldly
    24.10.2021 - 44 minutes ago

    The Moon King

    Title: The Moon King

    Fiction Type: Original fiction

    Prompt: “Is this supposed to impress me?”

    The training room resembled a gym, except for being filled with large cabinets of gleaming wood, colourful chests, and display racks of various weapons. After swords, shields, and spears, I stopped being able to name them.

    Robert snatched up a sword. He tossed it between his hands while I crossed my arms and shook my head. To the sword he added a glowing green crystal.

    “Those are explosive. They’ll knock you out for two hours.”

    He added three more items: a sword, the crystal, a piggy bank, a jewellery chest and a watermelon whirled through the air. With a smirk, he, still juggling, tossed a kitten into the air.

    The kittens crowded a corner of the room. With a yelp, I grabbed the kitten and hugged it to my chest. He chuckled at my scowl.

    “Is this supposed to impress me?”

    He caught everything in a fluid movement. Everything was replaced, and he bowed. The kitten darted to it’s sisters. I gave a slow clap.

    Robert squeezed my shoulder. “It’s going to impress Lisa when she comes home.”

    “What if she doesn’t come home?”

    “Of course she will! We love each other!” Robert grinned. “She was going to teach me how to play the Saxophone, and I was going to take her to Australia. We were going to take photos of the echidna!”

    I shook my head. “Robert...Lisa’s changed.”

    “Nonsense. How much can a person change in a year?”

    I winced. A lot. I know I have.  

    Robert selected a spear. He jabbed at a dummy, gently at first, gradually picking up speed and force. Towards the end, the thrusts became rough, hard. His face gleamed, and sweat stains pooled through his hoodie. His hair grew slick, and he whipped it from his eyes with one toss of his head.

    “Robert!”

    The spear clattered to the ground. With a grunt, he punched the dummy. He stared soundlessly at the wall. I reached for him. Robert slumped against the wall. I darted to his side; he yanked me into a hug. The sob hitched in his chest.

    “Robert, I love you. You’re my brother.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I’m going to take care of things. We’ll find a way to get her back.”

    “We were supposed to get married.” He coughed. “She proposed to me. On one knee and everything. She didn’t want to go!”

    “Maybe they’ll give her back. If we just ask.”

    “You think so?”

    “They’re bandits. But there must be something we can offer them.”

    “But you said we were forbidden.”

    I pursed my lips. “We can’t just abandon her. At first, I thought the council had their own plan. And then I thought the bandits would just release her. But now...I don’t think so.”

    “They’ve abandoned her?” Robert’s eyes widened.

    “Yes.” I pulled Robert to his feet, straining my arms. He towered over me, his dark face boyish and damp. I dabbed at his cheek with a napkin. His chuckle was watery.

    “You still carry those around?”

    “You still need them.” I grinned. “Come on.”

    We went to my room, where we pawed through books, trinkets, and toys. We compared items, debating their costs or their worth to supernatural marauders. A jar of fire was talked over, but we concluded the bandits would likely be able to make something similar on their own.

    I held up a gold necklace; studded with emeralds, it shimmered.

    “What about this?”

    Robert’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “That’s our mother’s.”

    “I’m willing, if you are.”

    “They shouldn’t have that! It’s an heirloom! It’s all we have left of-”

    “And what will they leave of Lisa?” I threw the necklace on to the bed. “She’s my friend too! She was going to be my sister! They shouldn’t have her!”

    Robert blushed. Even against his skin, it was visible. He stared at his feet, eyes moist. “I know.”

    You don’t know. I told you not to worry. I said they were wild, but nothing else. Even if you look older, you’re still a boy. I didn’t tell you how cruel they are.

    I took his hands. “Can you do this?”

    He nodded. “Mom would want that.”

    “We’ll leave at dawn. The Skeleton Crew always rides by then. Remember to bring the lantern.”

    It was dusk when, yawning and thick eyed, we darted from the manor. The grass was spangled in dew, and a moon lingered, blurred at the edges, within the twilight sky. We dashed into the forest. Orange lights bobbed in the early gray. Reaching the centre of a leaf strewn path, Robert raised his lantern: he flashed it once, twice, three times. Fog pooled in, but the lights in the sky paused. There was a boom, and they veered towards us.

    As the lights grew larger, they brought sounds which swelled as they came: there was the thunder of hooves, the clink of metal, the rattling of chains, a clattering and a chinking, and the roar of voices.

    Black smoke shot out before them, flapping like a carpet to the ground. Blaring beneath the glare of orange jack-o-lanterns, the Skeleton Crew came to a halt. They were arrayed in what I could only describe as “biker” clothes or “pirate garb.” Many wore leather jackets, or studded boots; they carried belts, and had chains wrapped around their torn jeans. Others had frayed tunics, leather belts, pouches, and eye patches.

    The leader slid from his skeleton horse. He patted it’s bony flank as he advanced. His crew parted. Even without skin, it was easy to see he grinned. He removed his captain’s hat and bowed. His jacket was a pirate’s coat, all brass buttons and pockets, except for being leather. It fluttered to his knees. He wore denim britches, and the telescope he held flickered to light: it doubled as a flashlight, blinding us as he pointed it in our faces.

    “What do you want, wee children?” His voice was gravelly. Given that I could see his spine and nothing else, I wasn’t sure how he talked.

    “I want Lisa.” Robert stepped forward. “We’re willing to trade for her.”

    The Skeleton Crew laughed. The captain’s was the loudest. “Really? And what will you trade for her? The girl?”

    Robert stood in front of me, blocking me from view. “Like hell.”

    I shouldered past my brother. I held out the necklace. It winked in the dim light. “We’re willing to trade this.”

    The Skeleton Crew lapsed into silence. Skull sockets widening, the captain drifted closer.

    “Is that-”

    “Yes.” I snatched it back. Whatever that means. I pocketed it. “Where’s Lisa?”

    The captain snapped his fingers.

    What resembled a bundle of rags was brought forward. Two mud blackened feet stood out from the bottom of the rags. Then I saw the dark hair, filled with twigs and tangles and, beneath it, a pale and emaciated face.

    Lisa was shoved to Robert’s feet. The blanket slid away. She was nearly as thin as the members of the crew: the bones threatened to tear through her skin, ripping even through the bruises which massed along her back. Lisa coughed. Robert took her arms, but she slapped him away. On her side, she whimpered. Her ratty hair fell across her face.

    “Lisa?”

    “The necklace.” The captain held out a hand. “You have our word that we will not come this way again. Lisa Harding is yours.”

    I handed him the necklace. He kissed it, and chuckled.

    “Lisa?” Robert tucked her hair back.

    “You were going to kill her. Make her like you.”

    “What’s a crew without a woman in it?” He reached for my cheek, but I leapt back. “It’s obvious you don’t know what this necklace does.”

    “What does-”

    His laughter made my skin ice over. “It grants immortality.”

    “But you’re already immortal.”

    “No, not truly. It brings with it life. There’s a reason we’re feared.” He pulled the necklace over his neck. “I will be as I was, before the curse.”

    “Wait!”

    There was a bang, and Robert and I were thrown back. The Skeleton Crew crumpled to the ground. Robert pulled Lisa to him. I hugged myself, inching back along my butt.

    The captain twisted in place; he laughed, and his form glowed. Veins snaked up his arms, his neck, and his face. Muscle rippled into being. Organs bloomed, only to be swallowed by red flesh. The red portions solidified, before something pink and smooth glided over them. Black hair sprouted from the top of his head like grass. The torso widened, rippling with muscle. The cheeks, at first gaunt, filled out. The jaw widened, and the eyes rolled into place. The nose grew out with a snap. With twin cracks, the ears appeared.

    The captain stumbled backwards one step. He closed his eyes and ran his slender hands over a pretty face. He smiled; he took a deep breath.

    I held mine.

    The captain exhaled. “How good it feels...to breathe again.”

    The Skeleton Crew was no longer anything but a collection of bones and pieces of clothes. The captain gazed at the mess, and shrugged.

    “They were good company, but I don’t need the dead any longer.”

    I gasped.

    “I must thank you. If you want my recommendation, you’ll leave the manor. The penalty for restoring the Moon King to life is treason.”

    “The Moon King! But the Moon King died centuries ago. He was sentenced for slaughtering thousands, and cursed-”

    “That’s right.” The young man nodded. “I was cursed. To walk this earth, but never to live. This was the only cure available to me. It was your ancestor, Moira, who fashioned this trinket and cursed me. My existence has been bound to it all these years.”

    “But they would have told us!” My heart sank. “They trust us!”

    “What a sting, to be lied to.” The Moon King shrugged. There were slight points to his ears. “But that’s behind us. You have my word that Lisa won’t be harmed. Of course, I can’t extend the same promise to you or your brother. We will meet again, Diane Morrison. And when we do, well...just enjoy your life while you have it, hm?”

    In a blast of black smoke, he vanished. I jogged to the spot. There were bones, and silence.

    “Diane?”

    I turned to Robert. “He was right, wasn’t he? We’ll have to leave.”

    “Lisa isn’t fit for the road.” Robert helped Lisa to her feet. She pitched forward, but Robert caught her. He cradled her in his arms. Eyes closed, she moaned.

    “We’ll leave her in the infirmary. Then we’ll go.”

    “I’m not leaving her! She needs me!”

    I trekked towards the manor. Robert ran after me. It was early morning by the time we entered the infirmary. Lisa was placed on a bed. Robert examined her wounds. He drew in a breath when he saw the cuts which lacerated her. Lisa was daubed with ointments and water, and papered in bandages. When her wounds had been dressed, she was given water; she drank with a cough. Robert held her.

    I nodded. “You’re right. She needs you.”

    “Thank you.” The tension drained from his shoulders. He ran a cloth over her face.

    “You can stay.” I shouldered my bag. “Tell Mistress Kate what happened if she asks. I’m heading upstairs.”

    “Okay.” His eyes remained on Lisa. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

    “Goodbye, Robert.”

    Upstairs, I packed.

    I ran out the door as the sky brightened and the rooster crowed. Clouds massed above, making the sky as pale as snow drifts. With nothing but the clothes I wore, and my bag, I tore into the woods. I was going to find the Moon King and snatch the amulet back—or die trying. Until then, there was no home for me.

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  • writinghoursopen
    24.10.2021 - 44 minutes ago

    Writing prompt #449

    "This will be the last time you lie to me."

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  • geekygachapon
    24.10.2021 - 44 minutes ago

    NaNoWriMo 2021

    Somehow, November is already creeping up on us. And I am not prepared in the slightest. Usually, come the end of October, I at least have a sense of what I’m going to write during National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). I know some characters, a very loose idea for the plot, something. This year, exactly one week out from November First; I got nothing. I mean, sure, I have excuses. I was…

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  • ultraunusual
    24.10.2021 - 44 minutes ago

    New York Space Alliance Branding

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  • senor-plume
    24.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Ukulele Us

    Sure, I like to Linger where it’s shady

    Why not you know?

    You bring your ukulele And I’ll bring along mine And we Can Play Together darlin’

    You with your sweet melodies And me with my fantastic rhythm We can make Some Very beautiful Music Together

    Why not you know?

    We’ll sit under that willow tree And harmonize to the Sweetest of sounds:

    You and I Alone With nature Singing like

    Bob and Joan In the early 60’s

    I’m all nasal While you are All powerful

    Name the tune sweetheart And we can play it All day long

    Under that tree With our tiny guitars You and I

    Harmonizing again and again

    Why not you know?

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  • letthebodyfall
    24.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Release II

    Part 1

    The beeping of the heart monitor was loud against the silence of the room.

    It's been nearly seven hours since Hero rushed Villain to the hospital, desperate, pleading with the doctors and nurses to hurry as blood continued to pour.

    They thought she wouldn't make it, he knew. Overheard some nurses gossiping in the hallway about the villain's slim chance of survival with the injuries she sustained.

    Thirteen broken bones, a fractured skull, intense blood loss, pierced organs- they didn't even think she'd survive the operating table.

    But she did.

    She laid there, still save for the steady rise and fall of her chest, as his mind wandered to the times they mingled together.

    The first time was when Hero was captured by Supervillain's henchmen several months before. It was after shift and he was tired, and normally villains didn't disturb heroes who were out of shift.

    But Supervillain played differently.

    He often disregarded the agreements, so Hero was not at all surprised that he orchestrated this sort of plan.

    What did surprised him was the presence of Villain by the Super's side, scowling at Hero like he was a nuisance. She was new to the city at the time, as Hero only had a few dealings with her prior to this. She was quirky, he admitted, and had anger issues but it was somehow endearing.

    She were to keep watch him throughout the night, which was their first mistake.

    Now, Hero wasn't the most charismatic in the agency but he had enough skills to get by, and by his assessment Villain would be the type that'd be susceptible to his charms.

    "What's a beautiful lady like you doing in a dingy place like this?" he remembered himself say, to which she responded with a scowl before turning away.

    Grinning at this display, Hero prodded further, asking question upon question upon question.

    "Enough!" she hissed after an hour of having to bear the tied-up hero's ramblings, ears considerably redder than before.

    Hero considered it a victory.

    "I just wanted to know if you were single," he continued, shit eating grin in place as she did her best to not tear the hair she had on her head. "I'd look real good as your arm-candy, and I'm pretty good in bed-"

    "Shut it!" Eyes darting frantically from side to side, Villain stomped towards where he was chained and kicked his shin, to which he responded with a laugh.

    "You are pretty attractive, though. I reckon I can give you a good time."

    "You're just saying that to butter me up and let you go. It's not gonna work."

    That was the first time she said something to him that wasn't just one or two words, he remembered. The first time he saw her eyes flash with anger.

    He could swear he saw some sadness there.

    So he shut up, sat there, and watched her throughout the night.

    By sundown, he swore the binds were weaker than he remembered them to be.

    This continued on for months, Hero slowly chipping away at Villain's facade, slowly reaching her core.

    And maybe, just maybe, she started to care for him as much as he did for her.

    Her hands were warm when he held it, held it tight enough to feel the faint thumping of heartbeat. This wasn't supposed to happen. She's supposed to be fighting him, not laying still on a hospital bed.

    This was his fault.

    If he didn't drag it for this long, if he busted Supervillain and the rest of them weeks ago this wouldn't have happened. But he was so caught up in the enjoyment of the game that he didn't consider that one of them would take the fall for it.

    She took the fall for it.

    Sucking in a breath, Hero pressed her hands on to his forehead, lips pressing to the bloodied palms of her hands.

    The burning sensation never ceased, but only grew as the hours ticked by.

    He was trembling as fury ripped inside him,l as the thoughts of tearing Supervillain to shreds soared in his mind.

    And yet his hands stayed gentle as he gripped her smaller ones.

    Supervillain can wait.

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  • artschoolsurvivor
    24.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Dune

    I was never really a fan of the novel Dune. For me, it was a bit like Lord of the Rings in that it was a good story poorly told and both seem to be written from an ‘aren’t I clever’ perspective. The language in LOTR was in need of a glossary (never fun when you’re trying to read a book) and Dune was dense and impenetrable. I could level the same sort of complaint at HP Lovecraft, but the added…

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  • problematicprocrastinator
    24.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    So I woke up with severe anxiety today and my mum decided that to ‘calm me down’ I should go and help my dad who was fixing the car. I want to know WHAT made my mother think that me helping my dad was going to be calm. What part of me and dad fixing a car sounds relaxing. Has she met us? Does she not remember the decorating debacle? The chaos of me (a 5ft3 21 year old with the strength of a rich tea biscuit) and my dad (a 53 year with zero patience). I am exhausted and not at all calm 😂

    #rambles #the car nearly killed me #dad got an angle grinder at one point #and I ran in the opposite direction #dad used some creative alternatives to swears #I nearly lost a finger and dad nearly lost his hand #I had to hold up the break thing on the car and boy was it heavy #it was also freezing and raining so that was fun #I’m now in bed with a hot water bottle and a cup of tea in my tardis mug #what a day 😂
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