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  • thatswhereiwanttobe
    15.06.2021 - 13 minutes ago

    30 questions

    Thanks @inkflight for the tag!

    Name/nickname: My name is Peyton but you’re free to call me by my URL. If you know my last name no you don’t. JK. I don’t think anyone I know irl follows this blog.

    Gender: Female

    Star sign: Cancer. Very fitting ‘cause I’m a sensitive bitch.

    Height: 5’3” or ~ 160cm

    Time: 7:12am

    Birthday: I don’t feel comfortable telling my actual birthday so we’ll say July 14th because that’s the day I was supposed to be born.

    Favourite band: The Smiths

    Favourite solo artist: Taylor Swift

    Song stuck in my head: Welcome to the Internet by Bo Burnham (Yes, that counts. It’s all I can think about after watching Inside 5x)

    Last movie: Bo Burnham Inside

    Last show: BoJack Horseman

    When I created this blog: Summer of 2019, I believe. I don’t really know.

    What I post: Content related to writing (tips, prompts, WIP intros, excepts, poetry, etc.)

    Last thing I googled: This is gonna sound really concerning, but I swear it’s for a book. I googled how to cut your radial artery.

    Other blogs: @reasontohideagain is my main, @like-an-american-singer is my Swiftie blog, and @maccamylovely is my (not very active) classic rock blog. I’m most active on my main and my Swiftie blog.

    Do I get asks? No :( but I wish I did.

    Following: Oh god it’s over 1000, I know that. (1951)

    Why I chose my URL: It’s from a campfire song we used to sing at the summer camp I went to as a camper and then a counsellor. The song is called Purple Lights.

    Lucky number: Don’t really have one. I’m not a very lucky person.

    Followers: 26

    Average hours of sleep: 6-8 usually on weekdays.

    Instruments: piano, guitar, voice, and mandolin.

    What am I wearing: a nice shirt and jeans. (I’m currently at work at my internship)

    Dream job: representative for the United Nations or ambassador to Spain

    Favourite food: Seafood I guess? Idk I don’t really have one favourite food.

    Nationality: American

    Favourite song: Right now it’s There Is a Light that Never Goes Out by The Smiths.

    Last book I read: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. That was when I was in the hospital and had time to read tho lol.

    Top 3 fictional universes I would like to live in: Grishaverse, An Absolutely Remarkable Thing, The Nevers

    Tagging: @qelizhus @caprifoi @avian-writes

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  • sam-stevens-writes
    15.06.2021 - 23 minutes ago

    The First Brick

    Who threw the first brick? It could have been a simple question. Most questions are simple if someone admits to the crime. In this question, there are too many culprits to convict, they just want the first culprit. There isn’t enough space in the jails. That’s what happens when you’re trying to stop a revolution. Jails filled with renegades and bricks thrown in marketplaces.

    The headlines all read different things the day after. Twelve Dead After Rebel Attack! Lives Lost in Riot! Revolution Causes Loss of More Life!

    No one told the true story. No one looked at the details.

    Twelve dead.

    A 2 year old boy who could say Tyrannosaurus Rex but couldn’t count past the number of fingers on his hands.

    A magician who knew only 3 card tricks but could build impossible towers out of toothpicks.

    The owner of a necklace stall, whose talents in waffle making had to be ignored for years.

    They all had their fake magics. Things that could never earn them real money or be useful in a crisis.

    Their lives were placed in short sentences on the last page of newspapers. The courts didn’t care about the victims. Only the perpetrators.

    Who threw the brick that smashed the window? Who let a glass carpet fall under their feet? Which of the 50 people who stampeded into the market started the race? Who smashed the speakers playing music to a passive audience?

    Who threw the first brick? And the second? And the third? That’s all the government wants to know. They want to shut down the revolution at the source. Who cares about the death of citizens when the death of dictatorship is resting on our shoulders?

    Dictatorship was supposed to end the state of emergency across the country. After it hadn’t worked for 4 years, people lost faith. They found anger. Anger at the government for lying to us about the food that was left. Anger at those who still believed.

    The riots started gradually. Overthrowing the government became small talk. The government couldn’t keep track of the revolutionaries, the renegades, the “fans of destruction”. They ran out of jail space, and they started to build walls to keep out the ideas of freedom.

    They didn’t care about the victims. Children who can identify dinosaurs can’t save us from extinction. Magicians who build toothpick towers can’t build walls for the government. Perfect waffles are irrelevant in a time of rations.

    Fake magic doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is who will throw the last brick?

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  • enchanted-lightning-aes
    15.06.2021 - 27 minutes ago

    Caffeine Warmth in the Cold

    A/N: Just a gift for @ink-fireplace-coffee for a prompt that she gave me. Just turned out a little longer than expected and I hope you see your prompt here. ^-^
    Takes place in my contemporary WIP five years after college.
    Word Count: 1153
    TW: None


    The city carries on with the same energetic bustle despite the heavy snowfall. Each sidewalk is covered in frost crystals and footprints mark the coated streets. Most people would be choosing to stay home, however, some certain employees chose to attend to work of their own choosing.

    Chantelle Barnett happens to be one of them.

    It's even weirder that some of her co-workers did the same thing too.

    Either they're here because their families' are busy or they have personal problems at home. It could be the only explanation for why people choose to work in the winter time.

    Without their boss marching in and demanding their orders to be done, work has been silent as everyone did their task. Designing a new clothing line for the next winter, because this winter sent inspiration for the designs always looking for a new opportunity to explore.

    Chantelle shivers, the room temperature sure to knock her down. If she brought a sweater instead of a cardigan, maybe it wouldn't feel this cold.

    "You okay?" Rosington asks, stilling with the measuring tape in her palm.

    "J-just f-fine," Chantelle answers through gritted teeth.

    "Maybe we can take a break for lunch," the other woman suggests. "What do you think?"

    She almost drops the threads of fabric, before catching it in a rush. She plasters a smile and nods.

    "Sure, sounds great. I could use a nice warm drink."

    "Great! Let's get back to stitching the dress together later."

    Rosington practically disappears and she has to trail after her. She retrieves her coat and boots from the designated cabinet, where they keep their clothes after getting into the building. She puts the clothes on, immediately sheltered from the snow.

    The other woman's ready in a winter get-up. Chantelle walks beside her as they leave the office to the hallway. They take the first elevator that they find. She blows a breath, watching it turn to brittle ice that falls apart in seconds.

    She frowns at it, leaning against the side.

    After the ride brings them down, they leave the premises and onto the snowy sidewalk. Chantelle zips up her coat as the cool breeze brushes on her skin.

    She rubs her nose at the sensation. At the path they're taking, she sees a building up ahead that she recognizes.

    A quaint coffee shop that she goes to, on break time everyday. It's no surprise that her co-worker knows about this place too. From the glass windows, she sees plenty of people and a long queue to the cashier. Damn it, they're going to take a while to wait for their order.

    "I'm going to get hot chocolate since it's too cold right now," Rosington says, swinging the shop door open.

    It's the blustering weather that lowers her body temperature. She sneezes in the cold, shaking her head.

    "I'd like some coffee instead, please."

    Rosington furrows her brows.

    "You'd rather have coffee?"

    "Yeah, uh, I need it to recharge," Chantelle answers, lowering her voice.

    "No, you don't have to do anything," Rosington reassures, smiling with warmth that could melt the snow. "I can order for the both of us, okay? You can sit tight and wait until I get back."

    Chantelle revels in the right temperature that the coffee shop offers. She's gonna take all the chance she can get to be far from the cold weather as possible.

    As she finds an empty seating booth, she occupies it. She looks out the window, watching the shimmering snow gather outside. For something that's cold, it could melt so easily in a single warm touch.

    While the snow might be too frigid for her preference, it didn't mean that she didn't have moments where she enjoyed it. Like the time, she used to initiate a snowball fight on her former best friend.

    Or making snow angels on the backyard of her grandma's house.

    "There you go," Rosington says, arriving with paper cups. "A warm espresso to-go for you, and hot chocolate for me."

    Chantelle takes her drink. "Thank you. You didn't have to do this."

    Getting lost in galaxies made of coffee may lift her spirits.

    "No problem," Rosington replies, taking a seat. "It's a pleasure to help you out. You don't have to pay me back or anything."

    Chantelle's face grows warm and she bows her head. She smiles a little.

    "Why don't you take a day off, Rosington?" Chantelle asks, mixing her coffee. She watches the cream swirl like the cosmos dance out in space. "Don't you have a family to spend time with or something?"

    The other woman's face falls. She sighs, leaning back on he seat.

    Rosington stares at her hot chocolate. "My aunt's out of town, and I have nothing to do in my house. I could take rest and stay from work, but I don't like doing nothing. So, I decided to go because it'll give me something to exhaust me."

    She raises her brows, crinkling her nose.

    "You don't like being unproductive?"

    "If you put it that way, I don't."

    "Well, you have enough opportunities to do what you want outside of work. You should use it as an opportunity."

    Rosington sighs, her face expressionless.

    "Trust me, I don't deserve things like that. It's complicated, I'd rather be working all day than spend time at the house.

    "Does it get lonely?"

    "Most days? No, I'm not lonely." Rosington's shoulders slumps. "I have you and the others as company. I don't mind missing out on lots of things."

    Chantelle takes a sip, then sets her cup down again. "It's hard to find a purpose after losing that one shot that you were given."

    Oh, yeah, Chantelle does know about her co-workers fall from her previous career as a ballerina. Well, not much really. A few tidbits regarding some scandal that she couldn't remember nicely because she blocked it from her head. She has a similar experience as a song-writer for a famous rock star, who took her for granted. She thought getting out would be easy.

    Unfortunately, she had been so wrong. And so miserable and crestfallen from the entire thing.

    It makes sense that Rosington would hide her past then reveal it.

    The silence let them take their time to enjoy their drinks. Chantelle slowly drink in the warmth of the goodness delivered from the coffee. The bitter aroma slips down her throat, enriching her taste buds.

    She blinks and lets out a breath, fanning herself. Yup, now she's wide awake than she's been this morning.

    When their drinks are drained and their cups get disposed, Rosington pays for their drinks. Chantelle does a head-start, walking out of the store. She clutches on the lapel of her coat.

    The moment left her raw more than she'd like to admit.

    They return to the office, staying silence on the whole way. If anything, words couldn't alleviate the secrets that the two of them concealed.


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  • mrlkachotra
    15.06.2021 - 29 minutes ago

    Today's thought

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  • andiwriteunderthemoon
    15.06.2021 - 34 minutes ago

    okay i wrote a lil snippet of a thing on kali ankh and decided to search up stuff about planets orbiting black holes because i haven't actually looked at much stuff about that yet and

    ... living on such a planet would be truly surreal, with the black hole filling nearly half the sky and concentrating leftover photons from the big bang into a pseudosun.



    blanets. they are blanets

    #need to find some time to binge isaac arthur's colonizing black holes series #writeblr
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  • scarvenartist
    15.06.2021 - 49 minutes ago

    My only writing advice ever is this, and I say this for my own reference too as I always seem to forget:

    when you are stumped on a beginning sentence or paragraph (this goes for story beginnings and chapter beginnings), instead of laboring over the beginning, start right in and sketch out in brief the most vivid part of the scene, whether this is a bit of dialogue, an emotion, a setting, whatever. More often than not, you'll find the beginning that way, rather than in exposition or build-up. (And sometimes, you'll realize all of that was boring stuff you can cut anyway.)

    #notes from a non-linear writer #this is the way i've always written essays too #START WITH THE CLEAREST THOUGHT #and then figure out why you think that #lol#writing advice#writeblr
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  • canwrites
    15.06.2021 - 57 minutes ago

    ah, one of many of my gay poems

    I mean it is pride month so I guess it isn’t too out of place

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  • writersmonth
    15.06.2021 - 57 minutes ago

    Writer’s Pride Month: Week 3

    Prompt: Write a story about an unusual coming out.

    Is it even coming out about sexuality? Or maybe a queer character is ready to admit to their friends they don’t like chocolate ice cream? Go wild!

    Rules & Guidelines - Full Prompt List - AO3 Collection

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  • natalieironside
    15.06.2021 - 58 minutes ago


    29/30:  How much have you written this month?  Are you happy with your progress?

    Uh . . . what month is it?

    I don’t really keep track of how many words I write per day anymore and I mostly think of progress in terms of how many chapters I’ve completed in a given week or month.  But even so:  Oh, progress has been abysmal this month.  I’ve done a lot of brainstorming, plotting, and planning, but very little putting words on the page.

    That being said:  I’ve finished a lot of stuff just this year, I’ve released 2 books in the span of like 8 months, and the apocalypse has been ongoing for like a year and a half, so I will not allow myself to feel guilty about that.

    (she said, feeling guilty about that)

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  • halfusednotebook
    15.06.2021 - 58 minutes ago

    Knot theory

    Last night I spent two hours writing figuring out the ending of a novella I have been working on since 2019. I can taste the ending, every sentence I put on paper (what an old fashioned expression this is; I’m writing everything in Word, after all) makes me nervous. I no longer have the same enthusiasm I started with. I’m afraid I haven’t crafted these characters very well and the plot can’t save me now, as it is borrowed from one of my favourite books. This piece was never meant to be more than a writing exercise, I was never meant to work seriously on it. But what does it mean to not work seriously on something? What is the point to writing a complete piece, if I don’t try to make it good? Where is the learning, if I’m just slapping together scenes that don’t make sense? 

    I want this to be over. I could have finished it a long time ago have I really put in the work, but I was never really sure I wanted to finish it. But I’ve never finished anything more than a few works of fanfictions, one-shots I wrote to expand a scene from a musical or from a book. What kind of writer am I if I can’t complete a piece? Can I call myself a writer at all? I can write scenes and tie them up with dialogue, but writing is more than that. It’s crafting a world, a life, a journey. If I can’t do that, then I’m afraid this skill will only ever be useful for writing the introduction to my future scientific papers. 

    It’s good to write from what you know, but what happens when you discover you actually know very little? Of the world, of how people work, of technology? I’m trying to write from experience and discover in my twenty six of being alive I’ve accumulated too little. I’m tying myself in knots trying to portray friendships when I haven’t got any and to describe automation systems when the memory of working with circuits fills me with pain. I’ve fashioned sentiments from youtube videos and wrung knowledge from memories that I wanted locked away. 

    And I still don’t know if I’ve done enough. 

    #writers on tumblr #writeblr
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  • viskafrer
    15.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    I’m easily satisfied today and absolutely smitten with how the scene list looks, haha. Since the app doesn’t let me number entries I am misusing the date function to number each scene.

    Hoped that by the time mid-june comes around, I’d have more scenes rewritten than just eight, but I guess it can’t be helped

    Transcript under the cut; not using my wip tag list for this one because nothing interesting happens, haha

    picture reads:
    Shrouded second draft
    prologue in fog and forest
    scene 1 a collection of noise
    scene 2 stand-up disaster (yo-ho)
    scene 3 breakfast whimsy
    scene 4 witch with a “w”
    scene 5 through the tunnels
    scene 6 the painter’s crossroad
    scene 7 through bleeding hills and rose crowned gates
    scene 8 a room full of midnight
    #wip: shrouded#scene list #8 of 180 #goodness i need a vacation #so i can just sleep and write #writing#writeblr
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  • whereflowersbloom
    15.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Through my veins flows seawater and tempestuous winds stirring clouds of sand.

    My heart beats at the rhythm of waves creating a lonely yet peaceful tune.

    I am one with the sea as only we each know the unfathomable depths of the abyss within us.

    A. M.

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  • andiwriteunderthemoon
    15.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Links to a bunch of my short stuff. Lately I've been writing small random pieces very regularly, so this page gets updated with the links a lot.

    #writeblr #maintain a blog as you would a garden or a notebook
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  • storyunrelated
    15.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    Flash #2963

    “Anyway, you’re just grumpy because fiddlecore is popular now, that’s why you’re grumpy,” Bob groused, plainly grumpy himself and just throwing it around. He was also sweating. They were all sweating. It was a hot day to start with and that they were all digging a trench just made it worse.

    Alice, spade in hand, paused to jab a finger at Bob.

    “That’s not what it’s called, for one fucking thing. For another I got no problem with things being popular, I just got a problem with what popularity does to things, alright?” She snapped.

    “What’s the difference?”

    “The difference is that - it’s that, when things aren’t massively popular they’re usually being done by people with a love and a passion and that shines through, and you still get that when it’s popular, yeah, but you also get chancers coming in just wanting to piggyback, people who have no idea what they’re doing, copycats and of course cunts missing the point.”

    “So it gets worse?”

    “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying that there’s more of it to wade through and a lot of that is worse. It’s like having to scrape off three feet of shit to get to your birthday cake,” Alice said.

    “That is a...uniquely specific image,” Bob said, unable to help but picture it in his head.

    Alice would have explained that it had some personal significance but she noticed the attention of the overseer drifting their way and so got back to digging, pronto.

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  • writingamongther0ses
    15.06.2021 - 1 hour ago
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  • thepoetryhouse4129
    15.06.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #my writing#quotes#my words#poetry#poem #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writeblr
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  • andiwriteunderthemoon
    15.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    The neighbour doesn’t have curtains for her windows. Instead, she just frosts them. Regularly. Several times within a day. Unfrosts them too, VERY regularly, and you start wondering if it gets cold. Then you get concerned about all the sharp temperature changes.

    One day you visit her to borrow some potion ingredients, realise she’s an ice witch, and facepalm internally at why you didn’t realise that earlier.

    You live on Witch Street and every day, you grow out bits of your brain, cut them off, and feed them to your Venus flytrap. The new one, that is. The others have already flown off to Venus. They’re very intelligent now. They have a great time living in the upper atmosphere of Venus and have promised to send you letters.

    And tonight you tell them about your newfound dumbassery from tending to the youngest flytrap, who’s growing quite well by-the-by. Sneaks around to the neighbour’s sometimes too. Wonder if she likes the temperature there. The ice witch had a freshly bleeding hand that she had frosted over. The youngest Venus flytrap is quite precocious.

    #the frost window thing popped up in my head cuz of a comment i saw on some instagram post #writeblr#wtwcommunity#fantasy #wip: cha.i #planet: thuluke #this isn’t directly a part of cha.i but i could probably incorporate bits of this in there #blood tw #body horror tw #ask to tag
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