#writters on tumblr
Ginny x Luna
I had this idea at like 3am and I wanted to write it. I've never wrote a fic before so this is gonna be bad so dont judge.
@bi-in-space came up with part of this aswell. Follow her.
Also there is swearing.
Ginny yawned aa she rolled over in her bed. It was almost nine am and if she didnt get up soon, she would miss breakfast. Ginny hadn't returned to her dorm untill well past 1 am last night from her secret meet up with Luna. The two girls had spent the night stargazing in the astronomy tower. Luna pointing out all the constellations while Ginny lay beside her, falling ever more in love with the beautiful blond haired girl. It was almost ridiculous how much the pair cared for eachother.
Still riding high from last night Ginny rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and climbed out of bed. To he Ginnys relief, the dorm was empty, everyone was already at breakfast, she could avoid the akward questions about where she was last night for now. Still half asleep Ginny grabbed her jumper from a heap beside her bad and pulled it on before making her way down to breakfast.
The hallways were relatively quiet, most people already at the great hall or back in their dorms. When Ginny finally reached the hall, she scanned the gryffindor bench for her friends. She found them quick enough, seated with their backs to the raven ravenclaws, laughing about god knows what. She made her way up the rows of benches to where harry Ron and Hermione sat and dropped herself onto the bench.
"Morning" she yawned, reaching for a peice of toast.
The others fell silent.
"What?" Ginny mumbled, a peice of toast shoved in her mouth.
"Um?" Ron said, nodding towards her chest, "care to explain?"
Ginny glanced down to her sweatshirt, her eyes were met with stripes of blue and grey.
"Shit" she whispered, not loud enough for anyone else to hear.
Suddenly it rushed back to her. Last night, up on the astronomy tower Ginny had been cold, so luna gave her her sweatshirt. When Ginny got back to her dorm, tired, she had pulled it off leaving it beside her gryffindor one. When she woke up this morning she must have grabbed the wrong one.
Panicking, Ginny decided to play dumb
"What?" She asked, calmly.
"I couldnt help but notice its blue?" Harry said, confused.
Ginny glanced between the three people infront of her. Ron looked confused and surprised, Harry's right eyebrow was raised in a questioning manner and Hermione was smirking.
"Is it? I hadn't noticed, thanks Harry." Ginny replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Who's is it?" Ron asked, a protective tone to his voice.
Hermione still remained silent. Ginny subtlety glances over the others heads to the ravenclaws table, looking at Luna who was staring at the group, a smile plastered across her face.
"None of your business" Ginny remarked, piling her plate with food.
"Come on Ginny, tell us!" Ron pleaded.
Hermione much to Ginny's confusion, was still sitting in utter silence, that sly grin on her face.
"Guys, leave her alone" Hermione laughed shaking her head.
"Thank your Hermione" Ginny said matter of factly. Before eating her last bite of food and getting up from the table.
She glanced at luna over shoulder, who was now in fits of laughter, clutching her stomach.
Hermione caught up with her just as she was reaching the doors to the hallway. The two boys wernt far behind her.
"You know, you are good together" hermione said, slyly, before bouncing off into corridor.
Ginny stood, shocked for a moment a smile crawling across her face.
Ok as I said at the start, it's my first fic, so..... I know it's bad lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Tell me what you thought
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Ngực trầm xinh cho tiếng trái tim vang vọng vào đời chói chang
Cho nắng tắt, cho trăng rằm lên, cho vừa đôi chân em đến
📷 No name
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As you heal you'll naturally lose resonance with the people who were only attracted to the unhealed version of you.
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It was a silent war, between what I wanted to believe and the truth.
There he stood, guns drawn, finger on the trigger with each bullet piercing through all of the lies,
and one by one they allowed the truth to seep through.
All of the lies, dismantling right before me. And for the first time I saw him for who he is, and for the first time I realized, I did not love him;
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How does destruction of forest affects us culturally?
Massive clearing of forest or deforestation will result in loosening of soil. This causes famines such as floods and droughts. Such disasters bring a lot of destruction to human life and assets which will adversely affect the quality of life.
Secondly, In our society women are considered to be hometaker. They have to travel long distances to collect water, fodder and food. If destruction is continued in a similar way, women will suffer for their basic necessities. This will further result in negligence of their children upbringing and hence, they might become a liability for their nation.
😔 Pandemic Sunday Sadness
Today I just feel like free writing ✍🏻.
🏡 I was supposed to visit my parents in the countryside. Still, my husband is feeling ill, and we didn't want to risk passing 🦠 COVID to my parents. They just got the second vaccine shot yesterday, and I heard we should wait two weeks until the 💉 vaccine kicks in.
I was expecting to spend this ☀️ sunny afternoon in their swimming pool, be around nature for a while. And it's all canceled now, and I'm stuck here in our apartment like I've been the whole week 😑.
My husband is a total hypochondriac 🤢. There's a chance he didn't want to be around my family, so he may have exaggerated his illness. But I was a good husband to him, and I stayed in with him 👼🏻.
Funny that now he's feeling better, and he is thinking about us seeing his mother later tonight. What the hell 🤡.
My Instagram crush 💔 on Mathew is still causing me pain.
I found out about an app that allows you to peek on others' Instagram stories without them knowing🕵🏻♂️.
I've been taking advantage of this new gadget to compare my ordinary life to his exciting digital nomad lifestyle. He's an engineer and works on a tech firm 👨🏻💻 that fully embraced home-office after the pandemic. Or as he likes to call it, anywhere-office.
He's been renting isolated 🏖 beach-houses on air B&B and seems to be having the time of his life while most people are struggling during a pandemic.
I know social media 📱 makes us feel like that, right? Everybody seems to have a perfect life, and when we compare it to our ordinary lives, we feel unhappy ☹️.
But that's the thing about him. He doesn't boast. He looks gorgeous, even though his photos are always so casual and poorly taken. His IG stories are basically reposts from his friends; he never demands attention with needy shirtless selfies 🤳, like most silly gay guys.
He's bisexual, actually. Maybe that's why. Straight guys are much less shallow than gay guys; if I have to give them something, I will give them that 🤷🏻♂️.
But anyways. I think having spent this Sunday locked up in this apartment peeking at my nomad crush's freedom has got me depressed a bit 💙.
💭 Perhaps in my mind, I fantasize him as everything I wish I was, and I'm not: younger, beautiful, well-employed, straight-looking, and full of meaningful friendships.
I actually feel stupid to have tried to convince him to hook up with me.
😔 Well, I just had to let that off of me (sigh).
Maybe I'll pull up a card to see what the Tarot has to say about this?
I asked: What should I know about this whole thing I feel about Mathew?
I got the Justice Card 👩🏻⚖️, but it was reversed. Well, not a surprise. As you can see, the man on the card is holding a scale ⚖️, the symbol of balance. And, since the card is reversed, I think the Tarot is trying to tell me that crushing 💔 on him brings imbalance to my life.
I should have better judgment when thinking he lives a perfect life while mine is boring and stagnated. Perhaps, the truth lies in the middle. His life is not perfect. And my life is pretty comfortable, even though I might be a bit too accommodated with a husband that gives me everything but locks me up like a pet.
Please, feel free to reblog 🔁 this post and comment. My intention is to inspire others to journal and do Tarot to let feelings off and seek guidance 👍.
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And after you have struggled to keep that beautiful equation with someone alive a bit longer, and failed nevertheless, does it always feel impossible to built it again someplace else with someone else?
Like it's too much effort for a pointless cause, like you can predict what will come of it anyway?
Like there's only one possible ending to every story you may ever start?
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Hi writting community!!
Does anyone have advice for someone starting out as a writer?? I aspire to be a guionist and storyteller in general, what would you recommend for me to start with? what sites are good for writers?
Thanks for any advice! I really appreciate that :)
Also please forgive my english lol
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poets are people who want to scream from the intensity of how much they felt about a particular thing, something or someone which may be absolutely mundane like that white flowers in their garden or their grumpy neighbour with the same old cardigan from a carnival years back.
but they do so, gently. they bleed, but gently. they write, but gently. so gentle even when the first of instincts are to scream. so gentle that when another human reads, it's as if they can almost see that too—why the white petals are serene and why the old women in that cardigan is like a poetry herself. almost.
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I just really really want to make a painting, write a few letters to no one in particular, think long about love and the way the sun is coming in to my room and the way everything is just so beautiful and soft at the moment and listen to a playlist curated entirely for stuff like this, press flowers and fantasize about ideal dates and the apartment I'll own in future and create a list of all the mandatory books going in each shelf of the personal library I'll have in there but I'm just here with engineering reference books all around me, groaning over an incoming online class and running on three hours of sleep.
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You lose your mind and call me insane. I snigger; it drives you mad even more. I can discern the overwhelming anxiety, the ache and discomfort when you run hither and thither inside the glass-walled chamber. Your madness is out of control. You take it out all on me. The only way to get rid of it is to avenge me, you say? I snigger; it drives you mad even more, even more! What a bliss 'tis.
You say you see your reflection in me? What a delusion! I am nothing of you; you are nothing in me. You are merely a puppet in the hands of your own rebellious spirit that shaped your (in)sanity You'll choke me to death? Was it not me whose body was devoted to a miserable death? My body has learned to breathe with no air. But now i watch the human within you die slowly. What harm would a corpse do to the one already dead, you say? I snigger, It drives you mad, even more, even more, Even more!
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I felt so lonely this morning like I had no mother and all my friends had left. Then she texted me. Why must the only thing I can’t say no to text me while I am in the most melancholy mood? How can she still drain me of all I have to give and still come back? Still, the mouthers milk will never be enough for a greedy baby. why must you always make me the fool, you sick cruel girl? I want to bury you under the ivory pillars of my temple, I don't want to remember you or what I lost what you took away from me. I lost myself to you, I had to go back to my own mirror to swallow the broken shards and rearrange them in my guts, I had to find the painful parts of me to replace the softness you stole. The beauty that still lingers is jaded and bitter and the painful shards of reflection will never dull. I am broken and I don't know how to put myself back together. I don't think I can, I’m not sure if I ever will.
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A Love Story
His words didn’t hurt as much as his hands
He said he wouldn’t ever hurt me
I did what he wanted
I kept him happy
I was just 13
He told me that it was all love
I begged him to stop
I’m not ready
You’re hurting me
He liked me in purple and
When he was mad
He made it known
My ribs got the brunt of it
My face did too
It was his love language
It’s okay because
He loved me
It’s my fault
I deserved it.
I asked for it.
I was different before him
I wore dresses and
But I’m different now
Long sleeves and concealer are
What I wear
It hides the harsh realities of his love
It’s our secret
No one can know
I was always told
Boys are mean to you
Because they like you
Two years later
I’m broken and
I am damaged
I wear these mental scars as reminders
I don’t trust
I know my place now
I am a SURVIVOR
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You know everything already...you now know this is why i need you.
Week after week tossing turning wanting rest only for a jolt to wake me up, so jolting like my very being wants to live...so I wake up, only to beg for more than a nap followed by a long winded cry.
Wake me up every couple hours as though you push play to save me from a dark room.
Please The armor be with me as the sun rises again. please God you know everything, you know how to help me. You know how to give peace and comfort so im not picking myself up off the floor again.
Not in the “i need medication and therapy” kind of note to myself...no this is the note to say there is more to this life. The kind of jot that screams, God I need healing. The kind that says if you know I don’t understand the power of your healing please continue to forgive me.
The kind of note that says; what do i need to work on , for God to allow me healing. The kind of post it that reminds me that’s not a demon playing with me its God reminding me very few understand this type of stuff.
The kind of note, that says I can sleep.
The kind of Love that God only knows.
The kind of love that saw me lay on the floor begging and says stand don’t mind them noticing, don’t mind as others do nothing. This is my weight seeing clear a broken hearted world.
The kind of note saying Don’t mind the laughter for being strong enough to humble yourself and pray. Keep praying the jolt keeps me awake for more than another sleepless night more than a 90s kid diary.
Pray there is a greater purpose to broken sleep.
To what we call insomnia.
Pray there is Something purposeful behind what we categorize as mental illness alone.
I pray and pray knowing others are praying for healing too. We avoid the pain and anxiety and write it off as a mystery and a pill.
Here is my shack on the rocks, standing firm. the words rushing to remind me to change corse. a intact foundation to self improvement.
Please not laying on the floor because its the warriors choice of comfort. It is the warrior whom herself rises when God reminds her there is a battle vs a war. This a endless battle of mental stamina strength and courage because hopefully there is a spiritual war telling me to love and to open up to live life. Hopefully this is to share with someone, share the cornerstones of the person and mind called lost.girl
Maybe I am delusional, maybe i am the things you think. Or maybe I’m just like you looking for reasons for purpose.
Maybe im just like you, wanting to be comforted back to Lovely hands. Wanting to move on so i can join the laughing, join those who watched from a distance thinking they know why Insomnia is heavy.
God if it’s crazy to ask for peace and a clear understanding than I do not want to be sane. Crazy to know there is always someone watching waiting to tell me how much I need improvement what i did or said and what they think i mean or meant. Don’t need any pointing out about lost.girl, you didn’t sleep well again. Sleep without me then. Stop trying to kill a mockingbird.
Start helping those with clipped wings. Watching does nothing, listening does little, actions speak louder than words. Put actions behind the love songs and share the love everyday, every morning with someone you love the way God loves us...unconditionally. Thats the kind of love i hope to one day learn and share. Wanting The humblest scenic path to Gods grace.
(If you have concerns don’t i am fine, just need to relax breathe and remember this is another side effect of a past of endless jabs and tomfoolery. This insomnia and anxiety can be subsided with patients and forgiveness. This note is for the person I am at 5am who i will be after and grateful for not being alone even if it is through window panes.
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This old dog
That old song doesn’t move me
My wide eyes have become narrow
My heart, calm
I walk where I used to run
I see where I used to look
I understand where I thought I knew
Time has humbled this fool
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Didnt know, i knew what you know, you now know i know you know.
We all know we aren’t alone...you hear me, you see me tumblr, i hear you, i see you tumblr
Good and bad
Coincidences or not, where it applies or not.
I like you tumblr and keep coming back for your opposition, your mind, your story, your message back.
You guys have good motivations and love!
The new music has been a great gift!
Helped because it was your hands reaching out.
However, The creative side is constantly cock blocked. no the alluring illusion of a weekend with benefit is not what i want. Creative you and me on our own together! Our own success and progress.
I am in need, Needing the reality of a permanent “our” “we” forever filled with the same amount of self confidence.
Teach me Patients and passion to slow down.
being queened by my king at night... im not afraid to be me anymore, be free.
Yes i see the coincidences, click the like anyway. not afraid to hold the leash. Good balancing the dark side of the moon.
Hi i am all natural bell, lost in a frozen parallel of tired memories. Hi i am awake unlike sleeping beauty but scared to take this start of my life alone like 27scores worth of broken agos.
Yes now we know i know what we all know
Not mad at anyone but me. The rest? thats just lyrics to move a mind stuck in a museum of “don’t be yourself”.
so strong, all natural woman, so modern but too weak to leave this place.
Need that romance to be here, why hide my desires like a good girl anymore, for whom?
Not asexual and nothing against it. People categorize a backstory they have not and will never read.
Straight so straight it hurts deep.
just not aloud to be sexy or sexually attractive from years of shaming and suffocating oh i mean caring friends wolves and family.
you read this, the say, I opened the account... #not sorry still
Telling it how it is, as quickly as the tragedy appears
Can do the same in a positive position,
if i get out of this labyrinth of doubt and shame.
Surround me with love with water ill fucking grow a smile, a sexual desire. Until then I’ll keep pretending not to know what we know.
If my words are of a half assed socrate dreaming
it’s because there are no new thoughts, theres no one here in person to take me home.
Help me Not return to the stale mental state as 18, him telling me not today. Treat this woman to the things she needs. Including love.
String free lyrics,
so why then dose my body remember the same song same place?
Oh ya because nothings changed.
To much asking for someone to do more than post.
Someone ready to help heal so we can move to the next part of our chapter.
Hello once again. yes lost.girl sitting here. i should be writing instead of dwelling on a dribble of a tear. Instead of writing about nothing important.
I should work on me more, should be writing down things that matter not problems.
Wrote about love and it’s season
i have helped so many throughout to balance all the negative karma my broken ass made.
All the years, years, fighting the same stupid scenario and scenery.
when is it my turn for the hero to go beyond the romantic style of my very real life
When will he say hello in person, lets go in person, let go together in person.
is he enough to knock on my window, instead of look in from the outside.
Sorry fam “real eyes, realize real, lies”.
Too nice to assert the fact none of this is a coincidence every hour of every coincidence of every day.
I dance and move it is the leash holding back the veil between my window and the world
Yes there is love to be found.
Yes you are appreciated not mad at the posts glad you guys hear see feel understand
You also have a half to make whole.
I hope we know this is just another ramble though...out of touch at best.
But I wrote from the mind isn’t that’s what matters? One day now that we all know, we will make it 1+1=2 2+1=creation, God, harmony
You will make it 1+1=2
We will make it together tumblr till infinity ♾
Sober for so long it hurts. Sober even in love no wonder i wont open up correctly. Flower stunted in the cement of “comfort”.
If you know them and like them, kids will appreciate to learn them!
To my fellow writters, and comic makers;
I would like to give you this piece of advice, that I've never read yet someone who have mentionned it on the internet, but that is a very important advice I think it will be useful for all of you folks.
When you write something, specially when writting children's books. Don't have fear of using words you know and you think they are cool because you worry they might be not very easy to grasp or to remember for kids.
Because I know for experience, that kids DO appreciate it when you give them new words to learn!
And I can talk from self-experience, with myself and also with my siblings when they were also kids, and I used to read them bedtime stories.
When I was a kiddo I had this larousse dictionary that I loved (which I think, it must have been weighed almost half of my weigh at that time...I remember it was heavy as hell! LOL ) which I used to carry with me around the house like if it was my favorite toy.
The reason? Because I've always liked to read, but when I was a kid I didn't have the vocabulary level I have the pleasure to have in nowadays. And to make things worse, when I was kid I had really a hard time liking books that were supposed to be for me. Like for example, when I was 5, the books my mom used to buy for me supposed to be for 5 - 7 years old kids, but they were boring..like...
...terribly, terribly, terribly boring!!!
I remember I often used to felt so upset with childrent book’s authors because I felt they insulted my intelligence, because their stories were too simple and often dull as hell! They lacked of a good plot and interesting characters.
And I think what exacerbated me the most it's the fact I wasn’t able to express the source of my rage at that time. So I would just say my mom "mom! This story is so dumb I don’t like it, this is a book for babies! I love the images but pretty please, next time would you buy me a book for big kids my age?"
My mom was a wise and clever lady, thanks goodness. After that she started to buy me cooler stuff, always for kids two or three years bigger the age I had. Of course, maybe the fact that I learned to speak at 6 months old, and to read at 4 years old (thanks to my mom who patiently took her time to teach me both things, she is an extraordinary woman!) made me skip “the pleasure” of not knowing how to read for a long time and thus be able to enjoy these kiddies books with a lot of illustrations and a couple of paragraphs.
But it was true still, the stories for little kids were dull as hell. So when I was little I enjoyed a lot more reading books targeted for kids bigger than my age, because they were more interesting, and also because I adored to learn new words. And books for little kids had only the words I already knew, and the authors used the same words over and over and over! So much that it was boring as hell! XD
So that’s why I enjoyed “big kids books”. When I was 7 I read “Vingt mille lieues sous les mers” by Jules Verne, in spanish version of course. And afer that, I read a lot of other books. My second book was Harry Potter, when I was 10 or so if I remember well. I also read a few short stories by Allan Poe. And there was one book I don’t remember the name, but it was at my elementary school library, it was about a school where all teachers were vampires.That was a cool one.
And I treated that dictionary like my favorite toy when I was a kid, because every time I found a new word I didn’t know, I knew I could always trust on it to look up to the words I didn't know, and know their meaning.
And have the incomparable, ecstaticly delightful pleasure of LEARNING NEW WORDS and adding them to my vocabulary! Which until today, it’s still one of my greatest pleasures, though it doesn’t happens as often as it was when I was a kid, but when it happens, it’s still as cool as it was when I was a kid.
And after that, I used to use that one word again and again for a good while so I could store in my mind. Which exhasperated my parents sometimes, now that I see it in retrospective...so I guess this is why they’d say “honey I know you love that new word a lot, but could you stop saying “overwhelming" just for one minute?”
I was considered a weird kiddo by the kids my age. LOL I guess its because of that they thought it was boring to hang out with me at school...
But well sorry I got carried away. So back to my point. When growing up I also used to read books to my brother, then my sister and my other brother that were born later. And while they didn’t know how to read (well, my brother who was born after me started to read at 5 years old, but for bed time stories he preferred that I should be the one who read *chuckles*) whenever they’d heard me reading a new word they didn’t know, they’d go all excited and ask me what it meant, and then I’d go and look up in my faithful larousse and tell them what it meant.
And they they thought I was the coolest older sister. And had these vivid and sparkling eyes, and huge smiles in their faces, that I still remember in nowadays. They had that look in their faces, like if they just had received what they wanted for Christmas.
That was awesome!
So, I’m not telling you to write a play worthy of shakespeare for little kids either. You can still write a kids book with a few paragraphs of text and cool illustrations.
But I mean. Don't make the mistake to think they’re stupid, or lower in intelligence.
Don't insult their intelligence with insipid and dull stories. Write a well developped story with intrigue, action, adventure, and well constructed characters! And for 5 years old kiddos and up, you can go and risk yourself a bit more and, if you know words as “exhasperated”, “overwhelming” “vicissitudes“, that you like and you think are cool, go ahead and write them in your book. Even if it’s only one or two of them at a time.
But don't refrain yourself from writting a cool story with good narration in fear kids will not like it or will not understand new words, because honest to God I tell you, they will adore it!
I'd even bet my drawing hand for that. I’d cut my drawing hand if that’s not true, because I’m sure it's true, if you do this, Kids will love it!
I think, if you want an example of great children books writters or comic makers, I’d say you should take an eye to the work of @47ness and @jenniferstolzer
I think I would have loved to be a kid nowadays to read their work, because I’d have loved to have better reading experiences as a little kid. But the coolest thing about their work it’s that it’s so well done I can enjoy it even now as a grown up adult in her 30′s! :D
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Làm thế nào để sống không hận thù?
- Mỗi khi bạn ghét ai đó, bạn hãy cho họ ra chuồng gà, chuồng gà trong lòng bạn quy định chỉ chứa được tối đa 5 con. Vậy nên khi bạn ghét đến người thứ 6, bạn buộc phải đưa một con gà trở về thế giới loài người. Như vậy là bạn đã trở thành người ít hận thù rồi.
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