#writeblr summerfest

[writeblrsummerfest]

Community event! Let’s recommend some writeblrs! Reblog this post and rec your favorite writeblrs. But here’s what makes it fun… Tell people why you recommend them! Do they have a specific character that you adore? Is their prose top notch? Is it their killer personality? Share, share, share!

#writeblr #writeblr summerfest #community event

[abalonetea]

Writeblr Summerfest 2024 Theme Poll ONE

Don't forget to spread this post around for a higher sample size!

#writeblr summerfest #writeblr #polls #poll

[acertainmoshke]

Run-Time Error

(my entry for the @writeblrsummerfest paid contest)

The door swings open, pouring out a circle of warm light into the dark forest. The hoots and rustling of animals seem to fade away into the night. You’ve been running scared for so very long. So long, in fact, that you can’t remember a time before you were lost in the woods. You can’t remember your name.

The small old man leaning on the stick straightens slightly when he sees you. “Sev! Thank heaven you’re safe!”

Apparently, your name is Sev.

“Come in, dear, get warm!” The man pulls off his own sweater to reveal bony elbows and pulls it over your head. You hadn’t noticed how stiff and cold you felt until it starts to fade.

You follow the old man into his cabin. Your cabin? The kitchen is small and bright. There is a stove but no sink. Surely this is too far out for running water. The warm light comes from three uncovered bulbs hanging on chains, so he does get electricity.

“Sit down, love,” the old man insists. “Now, what were we learning before?”

“I don’t remember…” anything. You don’t remember anything. You’re surprised at the smooth sound of your own voice. You hadn’t known what to expect.

“Right. Of course.” He seems neither surprised nor bothered. “You know what? You’ve had a rough week.” How many days were you running? Why were you running? “Let’s pick up your lessons again tomorrow. Just take it easy tonight.”

You want to ask what sort of lessons he’s teaching you, but before you can open your mouth he’s walking away again, leaving you in a big soft chair in front of the fire. Without a word, and still in a lightweight shirt, he opens the door and vanishes into the night. You can hear him shuffling across the yard.

Until suddenly you can’t, because another noise drowns him out.

Something extremely heavy is going thump…thump…thump. It shakes the whole cabin.

Suddenly the old man is beside you again. His smile is tight and it looks like most of his bucket of water sloshed onto the floor.

“What was that?” you ask.

“Oh, you know.” He sets down the bucket, dips a cup into it, and drains the whole thing in one gulp. “Old houses. Wild things get in the attic. Best just to ignore them.”

Thump.

His face changes suddenly to a soft, concerned expression. “It’s getting late, love. I’m off to bed. While we wait for you to recall your lessons, go ahead and flip through my books if you like.”

On his way back through the kitchen, he stops at the door to flip the latch and you notice for the first time that the locking mechanism, unlike the rest of the cabin, is modern plastic with a shiny keypad beside it.

You ignore the books for now. There will be time to gather context later. As soon as he closes the stairway door you go straight for the front door and try to turn the handle. It doesn’t so much as jiggle. You pull at the latch, but nothing happens. The first time you press a number on the pad it makes such a sharp beep you don’t dare try again.

The stairway door is locked too, but only in the old-fashioned way. The house is ancient. You twist with all your strength and with a soft crack it turns and the door swings open.

You glance back at the living room to see if there’s anything else of note. Most of it is taken up by books, the titles telling you nothing. There’s a smattering of small tools and gears and rods and other similar items on a small table in the corner. Nothing to hint at where you are, much less who you are. You turn away and into the dark stairway.

It doesn’t look like anyone has cleaned in here for a while. The dust swirls around your feet as you take the first few steps. Under the thick gray layer, more little metal bits create a trail up both sides of the narrow stairs. After only eight stairs you reach a door, but the snoring behind it suggests it belongs to the old man and you keep going.

Just beyond his door, a hand-drawn chart hangs on the wall. It’s the only thing that looks like it was touched recently.

A sudden thud followed by a screech like metal on metal makes you jump, but there’s no point running back downstairs. You’re trapped anyway.

Down the side of the chart are numbers and names, and then there are notes written across:

“Cutie” unresponsive and decommissioned.

“Leroy” minimal responsiveness, used for testing and decommissioned.

“Ginger” responsive and able to make decisions. Poorly mimicked emotions. Decommissioned.

“Sparky” promising shows of emotions and quick to learn. Missing presumed damaged.

“Tall Boy” strong, clever. In storage until further notice. Too threatening but shows promise.

“Pony” too childish and sensitive to be of much use, but excellently realistic. In storage until further notice.

“Sev” realistic responses, ideal balance of intelligence and creativity. May be the one. Concerning pattern of willful behavior.

You don’t understand any of what you read, except for the implication that you were designed for something. Another sound further up brings you back to reality and you creep carefully towards it.

The door at the top of the stairs isn’t even locked. It swings open to a brightly lit windowless room full of boxes and piles of old clothes. It’s cold.

A large shiny chrome robot looks up from his spot on the floor. He seems to be playing checkers with a much smaller purple robot with yarn for hair.

“Hey Sev,” laughs the big one, “How did running go this time?”

You look down for the first time at your own fingers, which are made of something hard and pearlescent. They whir softly when you clench your fists.

#summerfest contest #writeblr summerfest #writeblr #moshke writes

[moonluringfrost]

The House On Lemon Tree Lane

You pull your long coat closer against you as you navigate the snowy front walk. 404 Lemon Tree Lane looks like a fixer-uper, its yellow paint peeling, a shutter on an upper window hanging loose.

Something shining in the corner of your vision catches your attention. You turn to look at the big tree that's stretching its arms to take up most of the sky in the yard. There's something caught in the lower branches.

Getting closer, you see it's a bit of tinsel. Christmas is still a while off, but you figure this must have blown off of a decoration in the yard of someone who puts their decorations out early.

Unfortunately you cant quite reach it in order to remove it. Maybe another time.

For now, you've got a case to take.

The snow on the walk is that slushy sort that might turn to ice if the temperature drops again. You hope it waits until after you've left the house to do so.

There's not an immediate answer when you knock on the front door.

You had scheduled your visit in advance, so the residents should be expecting your arrival, so you just wait on the front porch, watching the way your breath turns to fog and then dissipates as you wait.

After some time, you decide to knock again, a little louder this time. Perhaps they didn't hear you?

"I'm coming, hold your horses," comes a call from inside.

So you wait. The cold air stings to breathe just a bit.

Finally, the door opens.

#scorpion grass side story #summerfest 2023 #writeblr summerfest

[runner-owen]

Summerfest question bomb! Tell me more about the setting for Owen’s story!

Man, where to start...

Well, the series is set in and around Theria, which is inspired by Victorian London. Things are a bit different here though. Instead of coal, in Theria they use crystals for lights. The crystals glow blue white and can be very intense depending on how it's crushed or cracked. Mining it is no better than mining coal in the Victorian period however.

Black Velvet itself takes place in Black Velvet Castle. The castle is very old, having been used as a monastery, a personal home, and a hospital just during the years the vampires controlled it. After humanity overthrew the vampires, the castle fell into various hands and various stages of repair or decay. Right now it is owned by the Obedience family, who are in the process of repairing and updating it.

The name of the castle comes from the black stone it's made from. Once upon a time the kingdom was known for its quarries and mountains, but those days had long passed even before the vampires fell from control. Humans take apart or repurpose old vampire built buildings to make their own.

Thanks for the question!

#writeblr summerfest

[cheshirequeenwithoutaheart]

the house on lemon tree lane. part one.

“why is it that whenever we let percy pick the day out, we wind up going to either a library, a haunted house, or a haunted library?” a girl, with blonde hair and green eyes and too much orange eyeshadow on if you listened to other people, asks her companions. this time, his pick had been a haunted house.

percy, floating several inches off the dusty path thanks to the fact he's dead and usually a source of hauntings himself, sniffs. “i happen to like haunted buildings and libraries, nat. history, entertainment and education, what more could you ask for?”

“some variety,” nat, or natasa, retorts.

“is the haunted house we live in not enough for you?” carina, who had previously been looking around the outside of the house on lemon tree lane, joins in. “do you really need to visit other haunted houses to, what, compare notes?”

“can’t you ever decide on something else, like a gallery or a mall? something less typical?”

percy glares at the final speaker. “when it’s your turn to pick the day out, aisling, we can go to a gallery or a mall or a bloody opera if it takes your fancy, but it is my turn and i want to explore a haunted house.”

a loud, piercing whistle cuts through the air. the four of them turn to look at the final member of their group, branwen, who stands on the steps leading up to the house, her hands on her hips and a severely unimpressed look on her face.

“are you going to stand around arguing about what we’re doing until the day ends or are we actually going to go inside?”

the thing about o’sullivans, both by blood and by adoption, is that they are notoriously difficult to frighten, scare, terrify or otherwise through conventional means. a haunted house, to them, is much the same as visiting an amusement park, regardless of the stories told, the reputation of the house, and whether or not it’s actually haunted by anything remotely spooky.  

.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

so i'm taking part in @writeblrsummerfest again! and for the first time in... a while... i'll be using a different wip to tsenpha! i'll still probably use tsenpha, and some other random ocs, but for the most part i'll be using the daily life of a witch PI (which is a. no longer applicable title but i do not want to change it because i am lazy like that. anyway)

#writing #dlwp #writeblr summerfest #the o'sullivan family

[toboldlywrite]

Dawn Harkyr

“Power only corrupts if the person values power more than they value the lives of others. And yes, people who have those values tend to find themselves drawn to power. But it isn’t the power that does the corrupting.”

Ten years ago, Dawn woke up on an alien world with no memories and a whole  lot of power. She’s spent most of the time since becoming a bona fide superhero (while trying to discover who she is along the way). But she’s made her share of mistakes, and there are many people who see her as anything but a hero.

She takes Ella and Tobias onto her ship and agrees to help them with their quest--asking for nothing in return, which makes Tobias suspicious. Power corrupts, right? Or maybe it just means making the conscious choice, day after day, not to let it.

@writeblrsummerfest​​ said to talk about the favorite character in our wips so here we are. The enigmatic, super-powered captain of the Astraea.

Image description: a grid of nine images with golden yellow border between and around them. Top row: two hands joining as if in an offer of a dance; white text on a black background reading “what doesn’t kill me better run”; a planet from space with the sun flaring in a cross-shape over it, all in dark golden tone; middle row: a close-up of a leather jacket; a headshot of Jessica Matten, edited so that her eyes look like black opals; a black and white image of the lower half of a person carrying a sword at their side; bottom row: the close-up image of an arm glowing with golden light that goes up through the veins; white text on a black background reading “I am iron and I forge myself”; a golden sky background with white text reading “the fire finds a home in me.”

#wip: star saga #oc: dawn #writeblr summerfest

[roll-for-twig]

The House on Lemon Tree Lane Day 1

Coin twisted the end of their head scarf around their hands. They had heard about the House on Lemon Tree Lane. Of course, there were many houses on this street, but there was only one that was so infamous that everyone in Enoch just called it “the House.” It had always been one of those places that kids liked to dare each other to ring the doorbell, but recently, there have been more sightings of a ghost in the windows. Since they have had multiple experiences with ghosts, Coin had resolved to go check it out. They didn’t want anyone to get hurt from it.

Unfortunately, none of their friends had been able to join them on this excursion. Fin had an essay due this week that she had been procrastinating on, Lena and Isko were stuck grading students’ final papers, and Maxwell was out of state. No one would be able to come for at least a week or so. 

Coin was here alone.

But they had to try to help the ghost move on. What if someone got hurt? They were equipped to handle this. They had to make sure to do their job. If anyone got hurt, it would be because of Coin’s inaction, and that is not acceptable.

“Okay…” they balled up their lucky scarf in their hands. “Okay. You’ve done this before. You used to do this all the time before you met everyone else! It’s no different than those times. You can do this!” 

Coin double checked their bag for their ghost hunting supplies and slipped on their tourmalated quartz necklace. 

Swallowing a lump in their throat, Coin opened the gate to the House. There was no going back now.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@writeblrsummerfest is hosting a writing prompt for every day in August that will string together for a cohesive story. I'm a couple days behind, but I'm going to try to catch up and keep up all month.

#coin #writeblr summerfest #writing prompt

[cyanophore-fiction]

Treading Lightly

Trying out @writeblrsummerfest‘s prompt with the haunted house theme! Sounds like fun, and I like the idea of having AI characters encountering the supernatural, I haven’t tried that concept before. 

(Note: for the purposes of these characters, anything in [brackets] instead of quotations indicates dialogue transmitted silently via electronic communication instead of spoken aloud. 

Under Pala’s cloak, the night made Coyote almost invisible. Its silhouette was perfectly black, and if it kept away from streetlights, it appeared only as a shadow slightly darker than its surroundings. It would be the same on infrared and radar—a splotch of unreflective nothingness, soaking up every stray photon. 

 Without the sun dumping heat into the cloak, there wasn’t much to worry about, but Coyote kept an eye on Pala’s temperature monitor anyway. It was a cool night, and the little drone was comfortable, its heat sinks barely warm. Its cluster of red eyes swiveled independently as they tracked motion in the dark: rabbits and squirrels hopping through the undergrowth, the occasional bat overhead.

Through the cable that connected them, Coyote felt the echoes of Pala’s mind. Each time it found an animal, it took a few seconds to pepper the creature with lidar pulses, building up a three-dimensional model to add to a growing wildlife database. Sometimes it took scans of the trees, bird nests, or pinecones. Its motive was simple curiosity; the data would have no tactical value.  

Coyote smiled. It had to remind itself that up until now, Pala’s only experience of nature had been the Mojave desert. Time and luck permitting, Coyote wanted to let its companion absorb as much as possible, so it had taken over the task of navigation. 

The place would be about a quarter mile up the road, if Coyote reckoned things correctly. It had done the calculations a few times over and cross-referenced them against its stolen paper map to be sure, but there was only so much precision it could count on with the satellite network turned against it. It had been weeks since the last orbital sensor sweep, but even so, Coyote didn’t dare try to connect to GPS. PRIONODE would be too clever to miss it.

[Hey. Is that it?] Pala said, all its eyes swiveling to focus on a spot just off the road. Coyote stopped, turned, and peered into the darkness. The place had come up so much sooner than expected that it had almost missed the turnoff. 

There, past a hedge of uncut grass, thistles, and overgrown gardenia bushes, was 312 Lemon Tree Lane. The old house was built on an acre of land surrounded by a solid wall of pine forest, abandoned for so long that stray saplings were beginning to invade the front yard. Wooden planks, sagging with age, barely held the front porch together. Coyote crouched, nodding to Pala, and together they painted the building with active sensor pulses. 

[Can’t get reliable returns through the windows,] said Pala. [Might as well be opaque.]

[Okay, so the interior’s a question mark until we get in there and look,] said Coyote. [Place is on the verge of collapse, too. One good windstorm and it’s coming down.]

[Did the records say anything about who owns it?]

[At this point? The county, maybe. Last inhabitants left over a decade ago. That’s about it. Anything on passives?]

[I’ve got…] said Pala, trailing off. It unfurled a set of antennae from its back, extending them through the boundary of the cloak, and waited for a few moments. [Yeah. There’s infrared and microwave-band emissions coming off the house, but—I can’t parse it out. Natural source, maybe?]

Along Coyote’s head, its sensory fins laid flat. [Where?]

[There’s not a specific origin point that I can see.]

[Okay,] said Coyote, standing up. [Here’s how we’ll play this. I want you to check the property. Look for a storage shed, basement entrance, or any derelict vehicles or appliances. Anything that runs on gas and has an alternator, we can pull a charge from. Sometimes old places like this will have emergency generators, that’s the best case scenario. If you find anything like that, tell me. Don’t go inside the house unless I say. Clear?]

[Got it,] said Pala. It began withdrawing its cloak, and Coyote felt hundreds of microbots skittering along its armor back to Pala’s chassis. [What are you going to do?]

[I’m going inside,] said Coyote. [I’ll check the interior, room by room.]

[You’re worried there’ll be someone in there?]

[Possibly. Could be homeless humans taking shelter here, kind of like us. Maybe other spirits. We won’t be a welcome sight, so I’ll try not to be seen. Don’t worry, the place is probably empty.]

[Okay. Be safe.]

[You too,] Coyote said. What it didn’t say was that EMD guns were apparently legal in the area, that people tended to be less shy about drawing and firing one, and it wasn’t sure if Pala’s light shielding would hold against a direct hit. Best to have it out of harm’s way.

As it approached the door, it activated the ultrasonics in its claws and sliced through the lock with a quick, silent cut. It turned and watched as Pala scuttled away into the overgrown lawn, resisting the urge to go back and regain sight of it. The little one would be fine on its own for a while.

Stepping through the door, Coyote armed its flechette gun, felt a round slide home into the barrel behind its palm.

#writeblr summerfest #coyote and pala #sci-fi #writeblr #writing prompts

[writeblrsummerfest]

Let's talk about secrets. But not the secrets of your MC. Let's talk about the secrets that your side characters are holding. Let's talk about the things that they aren't telling the MC. Let's talk about what's happening just outside of the main focus.

#writeblr #writeblr summerfest

[abalonetea]

Writeblr Summerfest Theme 2

What is the Writeblr Summerfest? It's an annual event that takes place here on Tumblr every year, during the month of August! Come by for fun games, writing prompts, community sharing, and a chance to enter into both free and paid writing contests!

Goodie bags and themed merchandise will be available for purchase! There will be stories! Events! Activities!

Each year, we get a little better and a little more organized. Vote for your favorite theme and then sit back, relax, and see how it affects the games that come out this year!

#polls #poll #writeblr summerfest #writeblr

[acertainmoshke]

Hello! 😁 Here with an ask from the writeblr summerfest event! 🌴

Are your OCs allergic to anything?

Hi! Thanks for asking ^_^ It would be cheating to mention silver and werewolves, wouldn't it? Ok, then. I'm going to say that Beth is allergic to gluten and Mad about it and Tatiana has a slight sensitivity to dairy that she mostly ignores.

#thanks! #writeblr summerfest #moshke writes #cold iron

[moonluringfrost]

Thinking about the summerfest crossover thing: I think if my Cold Iron guys ran across your Potion Tester crew, they would just kind of do a same-hat wave as they both went about their quests. HOWEVER, I think if they met the Scorpion Grass crew they would end up sitting down to chat and then get wrapped up in one of their mysteries. I think Shaka would like hanging out with Sylv, and I think Kris would like trying to annoy Pat until he inevitably got distracted by whatever evidence he wasn't supposed to see.

For some reason thinking about cold iron and potion tester people meeting made me think of like. A scooby doo esque scene where they're all in the same location for some reason, and people keep on coming and going from different doors and occasionally running into each other while goofy music plays in the background.

I think Sylv would have a nice time hanging out with Shaka. The two of them would probably get along pretty well. Pat can still get along with people that annoy them, but Kris might try their patience. That's not too uncommon though, so I think it would turn out alright. Especially if Kris helps find some evidence, that's a good way into Pat's good graces...

#ask game #crossover #writeblr summerfest

[hyba]

Right back at you with a summerfest ask! If your characters were just normal guys (no big plot to follow) what would their ideal life look like?

Hello hello! 😁 Thanks for sending this in!

I'll answer this for my M/E characters first, but it's not as cool cause they're still gonna do what they would have done anyway 😂

Perry would study business and politics to please his parents and fulfil their expectations, but would always pursue photography as a career on the side. He would ultimately have married Elise, and through that marriage two of the most powerful families would forge an unbreakable alliance. (Not that they're on bad terms anyway 😂.)

Adrian would probably be against working for his father's business despite the pressure his dad puts on him, and would instead gravitate towards simpler jobs that may not earn him a lot of money but do allow him to live life enjoying the small pleasures and experiences with his loved ones. (And if we go back in time even more, he probably would have never come to Blackwood, met Marie, etc etc... so he would have been living in the city, would have married someone there, etc etc.)

Marie's always had her future cut out for her: study business, work at her father's company, and gain the knowledge and experience required to take over later on in her life. She would at some point find herself in a moment of peace, where she would consider her passions, interests, and what it is she enjoys, and maybe take steps towards incorporating that into her life. (I'm thinking, opening a publishing house?)

As a lil bonus, if Elise didn't die, she would also have a very similar trajectory. The difference is that Elise would pursue a life with more fame, leaning into her influencer and celebrity status. She might open some businesses of her own, to own something that's only hers.

#writeblr #writeblr summerfest #marie/elise

[pluttskutt]

Lemon Tree Lane

Event: Summerfest @writeblrsummerfest

Prompt: Write your minky (or other character!) as they ENCOUNTER SOMETHING SHINY HANGING IN THE TREE outside of Lemon Tree Lane. Tell us what YOUR character finds! This will be an ongoing challenge! Every day, we’re going to see a little bit more of Lizzy’s story and get a new Lemon Tree Lane prompt. Let’s explore the haunted house together!

This is it, Saga thinks and breathes in deeply. It's ironic how she can still do that. Her cold exhale leaves her lungs in a cloud of smoke. One last look of her surroundings before she leaves—hopefully forever.

An old oak tree loams a few steps away. It reminds her of the one by the cottage in the woods. Just as that tree, this one has a hidden treasure that twinkles in the sun.

"Really?" Saga mumbles for herself, squinting to see it better. Walking over doesn't take a lot but she thinks she's seen it before once upon a dream. A memory she can try to reach but not hold as it slips out of her grasp and vanishes into the dark.

Hanging from a branch with a twine knotted around it, a silver key dangles in the air. It's big with an unusual pattern. What looks to be a wave stands out in a bumpy pattern at the top.

"Okay... thanks, Time." She holds the key to her chest with both hands. "Let this one take me home."

#writeblr summerfest #saga #lemon tree lane

[cheshirequeenwithoutaheart]

Hi! I'm visiting to celebrate Writeblr Summerfest. I have one question that I'm really hoping isn't a spoiler. What's the relationship dynamic between Natasa and Carina? Do the werewolf and werejaguar live in the same house?

hi, thanks for visiting!

the answer to that is that most of the time they do!

they're adopted sisters who've spent at least 8 years together, considering they're 16, and they did live in the same house.

however, due to the fact they were getting older and their werewolf/werejaguar natures respectively started to clash for reasons that are somewhat spoilery, they were split up in order to attend school in different places. they do still live together during certain holidays/breaks, however.

their dynamic is that they clash and argue a lot, but are still always there for each other when it counts.

#chesh answers #writeblr summerfest #dlwp #the o'sullivan family