Reblog if you are ASEXUAL, SUPPORT ASEXUALS, or really really want to WEAR A REALLY FANCY BLACK CAPE

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Reblog if you are ASEXUAL, SUPPORT ASEXUALS, or really really want to WEAR A REALLY FANCY BLACK CAPE

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runaway
I run. I jump. I enter my car.
Soon, Iām on the open road, escaping from reality. I drive. The wind blew my hair in its direction. The night sky dazzled, its beauty captivating me as I became one with the car. The radio personality's voice cut, leaving the radio to emit a static. I drove and drove, the engine vibrating the whole car, firing up my soul as everything became a blur.
The surroundings become just a smudge in a world made up in my mind. The sudden rain pitter-patters on the hood of the car alleviates the tension in my muscles as the tears start rolling down my freckle-less cheek, the momentum of each tear following the rain. I am driving to nowhere. I am driving everywhere.
I speed through the city. I cruise through the streets. I donāt care. I just drive.
The tears in my eyes become stronger. The rain has stopped. I am alone at dawn. I am alone at dusk. I keep driving. Time flies by me like the wind that was blowing through my hair. I hear search parties call out my name. How long has it been? I keep driving.
The sun comes out, its luster radiating a peaceful like atmosphere, as if itās looking over me. I drive. Wyoming. I have driven so far from home that I am here. I donāt care. I keep driving. It was their fault. They wanted to give me medicine, they said I was sick. Stage 2 something, but I forgot its name. It rhymes with āanswerā. I hate medicine. It always made me miserable. Thatās why I fled. I keep driving. Where do I stop? I donāt know.
I keep driving. I pass by many parks, malls, funfairs also on the same journey as me. I greet the birds that fly by. I breathe in the fresh air, the fresh air given to us by trees in exchange for our sunlight. Sometimes Iāll hide in the forest and admire the greenery. The squirrels, moss and other animals fill me up with a childlike hope. I keep driving.
I stop for gas. How long has it been since I fled? I donāt know. I grab a handful of candy and a pack of cigarettes. Iām sixteen but who cares. I might as well, my insides hurt and I think a good puff will distract me.
I head to the cashier. Hopefully I look mature enough.
āAre you 19 and above?ā
āYes I am,ā I say even though I definitely am not.
The cashier eyes me skeptically, before breaking away from his death stare and finally handing me my bag, containing the thingās I had bought. Phew.
I head out. It seems Iām in Arizona. Let me see⦠Iāve travelled through 4 states, considering I started from Minnesota and went through North Dakota. Itās been a long time since Iāve had a proper meal, but Iāve always had breakfast. Thanks Mcdonalds.
I jumped into the car. I drive. Iām back on the open road.
Iāve managed to make it to the radio station. Mom and Dad filed a missing persons report I see. I bet theyāll never have thought Iām in Colorado. I keep driving. When do I stop? I donāt know.
My hair has grown, and a small beard like clump of hair has grown on my chin. I like it. Itās a little itchy though. How long has it been? I donāt know. Should I go back? They should have figured out my car license plate by now, if my parents even remembered my license plate. They were too busy worrying about my condition. I still donāt know what it is though. They always changed the subject. I hum along to the song on the radio. I look at the road. Why am I doing this? It was their fault. It was theirs. I didnāt like the medicine. Thatās why I fled. I keep driving. I broke down. It was their fault. I drive. The carās engine purrs loudly. I keep driving. The moonās gleam shines on me. I canāt see anything. My car skids. I canāt control it. I keep crying.The car goes in directions I donāt want to go. I should have stayed at home. I canāt control the car. My car skids one more time, and I crash.
I wake up to the sound of a machine beeping. I donāt remember a clock in my car. I open my eyes. A blinding light startled my eyes. Is this heaven? I finally managed to get my eyes fully open. Tubes are inside of me. A lot of tubes. Mom and Dad. Theyāre beside me. I guess they found my car.
āHow did you find me?ā I asked, trying to sit up but failing to. My parents have a concerned look on their faces.
āWhat do you mean?ā
āMy car. I crashed. I guess you found it.ā
āHoney, I think you were having a dream.ā
āThen why am I here?ā
āItās your pancreatic cancer. Itās your last day to live.ā
bye i love this
Man: Siri, what is 1 trillion to the tenth power? Siri: Calculation. The answer is one zero zero zero zero zero [continuing] Man: *starts beatboxing to the rhythm. Woman 1: *joins in* Woman 2: *starts singing to the rhythm*
This is sO GOOD
never gets old
A character looks for an old book
A character has a long conversation with a statue

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Poplar Street by Chen Chen (transcript under the cut)Ā
ė 볓기
I have taken up writing lately and now I am writing a short story about driving around at night, but I'm kinda running out of ideas (I do not even own a car, so) and I was wondering if you knew some pieces or quotes related to that? Anyway, thanks!
I no longer feel anything except a rhythm, an irresistible impulse; I drive off, I have driven off, I keep going, the engine purrs. I feel the speed of my soul.
Jean-Paul Sartre, The Words: The Autobiography of Jean-Paul Sartre
āThat life [truck-driving] is good for people. I was thankful for every day they aināt invented yet the trucker-robots. That life is good. The road. Sky. The scenery.Except the loneliness.Except in the case of all the, yāknow, loneliness.ā
Martyna Majok, The Cost of Living: A Play
Tracy Chapman,Ā āFast Carā
Are you always moving on? Do you ever think?ā read?āor are you dazed, as I am in the car, when we drive, and drive and drive, and my mind is a long peaceful smudge?Ā
Virginia Woolf, in aĀ letter to Ethel Smyth
I drive around the streetsan inch away from weeping,ashamed of my sentimentality andpossible love a confused old man driving in the rainwondering where the good luckwent.
Charles Bukowski,Ā āI Made A Mistakeā
Sean Glatch ( @7-weeks),Ā āCar Crash Heartsā
Itās an art as simple as drinking waterfrom a tin cup; of loving that momentat the end of autumn, say, when the airholds no more promises, and the days are short / and likely to be gray. And there, just when youāre feeling your weakest, / it floods you completely,leaving you weeping as you drive your car.
Joe Salerno,Ā āPoetry is the Art of Not Succeedingā
I wonāt flinch andi wonāt blameyou,as I drive along the shore aloneas the palms wave,the ugly heavy palms,as the living does not arriveas the dead do not leave,
Charles Bukowski,Ā āRaw With Loveā
Lana Del Rey,Ā āRideā
I know thereās lots of world over and above Highway 5, but when youāre driving on itāfour boys in one car and itās so peaceful, so empty for mile after mile after mile, when the radio stations cut out and thereās just static and the sound of your voices, and wind when you put your arm out to rest it on the hoodāit seems you are balanced. Skimming along the rim of the universe.
Louise Erdrich, The Round House
āCause honey Iāll come get my things, but I canāt let goIām waiting for it, that green light, I want itOh, honey Iāll come get my things, but I canāt let goIām waiting for it, that green light, I want itYes, honey Iāll come get my things, but I canāt let goIām waiting for it, that green light, I want itOh, I wish I could get my things and just let goIām waiting for it, that green light, I want it
Lorde, āGreen Lightā
Halsey x Lido, ft. Jaden Smith,Ā āSlowā
Oh, anywhere, driver, anywhere - it doesnāt matter. Just keep driving.Itās better here in this taxi than it was walking. Itās no good my trying to walk. There is always a glimpse through the crowd of someone who looks like himāsomeone with his swing of the shoulders, his slant of the hat. And I think itās he, I think heās come back. And my heart goes to scalding water and the buildings sway and bend above me. No, itās better to be here. But I wish the driver would go fast, so fast that people walking by would be a long gray blur, and I could see no swinging shoulders, no slanted hat.
Dorothy Parker,Ā āSentimentā
The only dream Iāve had all yearis the one where I am drivingout of control. The brakes are shot,the landscape changes, accelerateinstead of stop. Itās almost tooobvious to interpret, like teethor pomegranates, or ocean.
Morgan Parker, āBeyonce in Third Personā
Tracy Chapman,Ā āFast Carā
BLOOD UPON THE ALTAR FAKE SCREEN CAPS: Scene One, Train.
SCRIPT:
Aleks: [annoyed] I have clawed my way to where I am now. Aston: [curious] Clawed or were you favored? Aleks: Fuck you! I have fought to earn his [cuts herself off] Aston: [entertained] His what, Tasheva? Affection? Aston: [leans forward] I donāt think you like your position. Aleks: [tensely, stiffening up and growing visibly upset] I am proud to serve Sariel. Aston: No. I think youāre afraid of him. Aleks: [clearly up, clearly frustrated] Shut up! Stop talking to me. Aston: [quietly] I think something inside of you died.Ā
Context:
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via http://imgur.com/gallery/x5mE5
Original: http://william-snekspeare.tumblr.com/
Never will these not be cute.
One of my all time favourite things Iāve seen tumblr
we shortly interrupt your regular shitposting program with these reptiles
Y E S
new project !
The world inside a cellphone (working title)
sypnosis: Brook Keneally is grieving from his late fatherās death. After inheriting a cellphone from his father, he taps a link that transports him to a new world. turns out that his father is legend in this world and died fighting evil. after meeting an injured fellow that agrees to help Brook out, they try to find the Purified stone thatāll transport him back to the real world. Will brook be able to get back to earth or will he be stuck in this world forever?
estimated word count : tbh idk but iām aiming for 10,000? (is that low)
genres: coming of age, grieving, fantasy, betrayal, something like jumanji x harry potter x sky high.
uhhh just tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

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iām planning this piece of writing and it seems that itās kind of cliche. any tips on how to make it not cliche?
Okay I had to think about this one, because I also struggle with this. Also, this is the first time I give any writing advice, so I hope it can help you.Ā
First a question: do you see your story as a cliche because itās done before or because itās predictable?
If itās because itās done before, donāt worry, everything has been done before. You donāt have to worry to be original, because it never really is. There will always be parts that are done before. What makes your writing different? The way you write, your own style and the characters you use. Cliches arenāt necessarily bad and you can use them, just try and donāt use too many in one story.
Using a trope that is done before isnāt necessary a cliche. It becomes a cliche when itās done before in the exact same way over and over again.Ā
Usually people tend to mix trope and cliche (Me too btw š ) but all stories are based on a certain bunch of tropes. What makes one trope different from another? Your take on it and the way your characters deal with it.
Also the mix of tropes you use can make your story more original.Ā
Is it because you think itās predictable?Ā
There are two types of cliches character-driven cliches and plot-driven cliches.
When your cliche is character-driven, but your plot is good and unique, itās no real problem.
When your cliche is plot-driven itās all about your characters. Just as I said everything is done before in some way or another. But your characters and writing style are what make your story different.
You can also use a plot twist or a side plot to make it more interesting and last but not least, ask friends/readers what kind of cliches they donāt like and what they do want to see instead. (thatās what beta readers are for when you want to publish it)Ā
Also read a lot to see what you like yourself and to see whatās done before. Maybe you see something but think of a good twist. Reading is learning for writers and therefore really important! (And I talk about reading books here)
But tbh, donāt focus on avoiding all the cliches, because they donāt always have to be bad.
Hope this helps :) If anyone else has some tips, just share them in the comments!
ah thanks! this really helps!
One day,
after I had spilled coffee on
my favorite dress,
lost the left shoe to my favorite
pair of slip ons,
spent half an hour on my hair
just to wear it up la st minute because
it wasnāt perfect
and my dog peeād on the floor,
I was in a rush,
Not wanting to be late for class again,
cursing the day and every one in my way
and then I passed a funeral home
that was full of cars and people in black
and was all of a sudden
very grateful.
Because while my morning was a mess
At least I wasnāt on my way to a another funeral
of someone I loved.
New Writeblr friends?
Hi guys! I really want to meet some new writeblrs who I can talk to about WIPS and hyperfixate over our ocs with. If you want to make a new friend reblog this with maybe a little about yourself and your WIP!!
Here's a bit about me:
I'm Des!
They/them
WIPS include: Project: Undercity, Hopelessly in (platonic) love and Curse of the rose (working title!)
I LOVE stories with mythical beings, curses and also low-key love LGBTQ+ stories š„ŗ
I love making friends
Share away guys!
Hello! Iām Alex. I write high fantasy, adventure and romance. Also love making friends! I am obsessed with my OCs, love putting them through their paces. Look forward to hearing more about yours!
Hysterical
We sit in your car, side by side, tears streaming down my face. I can feel the panic slowly rising out of my chest as you tell me every little thing thatās wrong with me. You say that Iām too much, too annoying, too clingy, too dramatic- that you know nineteen year olds that are less of a hassle than me. I squeeze my eyes shut as if thatās going to block out the horrible things you just said about me, but I only succeed in causing more tears to fall. I turn to you and yell that Iām only this way because I care; I always care too much, and I canāt help it. I feel the need to defend myself for caring, for asking to hang out and for getting sad when you say no. But you call that clingy and desperate. I canāt shake my head fast enough, but in my head, I am agreeing with you. Maybe I am too annoying and I ask for too much and thatās why everyone leaves me; Iām too confused and hurt to come up with any other explanation. You interrupt my thoughts by also telling me that Iām mean- that I say cruel things to you without any reason to; Iām again sitting there in disbelief. Is he referring to the time where I told him he was selfish and not a team player when we played video games because he abandoned me to do his own thing when we were playing teams? Or the time that I refused to rub his stomach after he gave me a back massage because I was uncomfortable and didnāt know what to do? Or the time I dare ask for ice water at his house because I had a headache while he called me demanding and rude? I yell at him. I tell him that, if I was mean, it was because you deserved it, because I finally had the strength to stand up for myself. I am nice to literally everyone until I have a reason not to be. If I become mean to you, itās because you pushed me too far for the last time. His only response is to roll his eyes and declare,Ā āHere you go, getting hysterical again, like always.ā I donāt know how long I sat in that car and cried, and the only thoughts running through my head over and over was that I was going to die alone, that no one would ever want me, for who could want someone as horrible and fucked up as me? I sure as hell wouldnāt want me. But the further I got from that car, the more my thoughts cleared. It wasnāt all my fault, and between the two of us in that car, you were the mean one. You told me things that you knew would break me down, that you knew I was insecure about. You wanted to hurt me. And thatās the difference between you and me: I care too much about people that I shouldnāt while you couldnāt care less and take pride in the pain that you can inflict on others. I shouldāve jumped out of that car as soon as it stopped and ran as far as I could away from you, but I guess that was my one mistake, trusting you to care about me.
We are not hysterical. We are not dramatic. We are not annoying. And we are not too much.
Introducing AERION ; a wip by @vadamalli
AERION is centred around the divinely-bred horse from greek mythology. this wip is full of attitude, stubborn gods and one very confused, out-of-the-loop winged horse.
(template + psd by @pilipalette)
taglist (ask to be added)
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Outlining is going well
[Image Description: pencil written words on lined school paper, saying, Okay, so trees. End Image Description]
WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.
A B O U T.
Hi everyone! This account was previously ran by my good friend, Fria (or Alaska as you knew her) which is now given to me (along with two other blogs). For everyoneās information, she is currently on a long hiatus due to personal reasons but if you happen to miss her, you can kindly message me instead and iāll relay it to her.
My name is Galilea (pronounced ga-lil-ya) which is a pseudonym for private means. Iām not generally new to the writeblr community though my non-existent tumblr friends can contradict that. Currently seventeen and living in a small town with a profound love for garlic and spicy food, there was no other choice left for me other than to grow up and be a writer.
M Y W R I T I N G.
My writings are not limited to selected genres because I do like exploring how my range as a writer is. But if you were really pushing on me to get an answer, I love writing literary and psychological fiction.
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