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Reblog or your mom will die in 928 seconds.
I love my mom.
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I am risking nothing
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I AM SORRY FOLLOWERS, I LOVE MY MOMMY
Will not risk.
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sorry followers :(
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Sup
Yo anyone who has lesbians or Gods in their wip rb this and I’ll follow
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Something I day dreamed this morning.
"Rebel stop!" Auminette cried. Furious tears were running down her face as she grabbed Rebel's arm, trying to pry the gun out of it.
"You'll be just like them. Is that what you want?"
The others waited patiently for something to dawn on Rebel. For her straight face and creased eyebrows to turn into her usual wide, playful grin. They waited because it's what they expected.
Rebel looked to all their faces, watching emotionlessly as they looked at her with pleading eyes.
She knew what they were thinking. She knew what they expected.
But she had been known to not live up to the expectations of most. Why should now be any different?
She gave Auminette one final glance before moving her gaze to the Wolves standing in front of the pit.
"Go ahead, Avery. Shoot us," Amy growled. Rebel could tell by the way she stood rigid that she was scared.
"Damn right. You should be scared, bitch, " she thought.
"Do you realize where we're standing? We are at the edge of a fifty foot, deadly drop down to doom. Your doom specifically. You are about to lose your life after years of torturing one that didn't deserve it. I suggest you deeply appreciate your last few breaths of air, "
"After all you've done, you deserved and still deserve nothing less than torture, Rebellion soldier," Amy spat, fists clenched tightly at her sides.
Rebel almost smiled. "Oh, I'm not talking about me," She chanced a glance at Auminette who was crying into Iris's shoulder, scared to look.
Rebel almost felt bad. She almost backed down.
Almost.
She raised the gun again, the mouth of it aimed at Amy's chest.
"She won't mind. There's nothing beating in there anyways,"
Saffron had finally had enough. She thought Rebel was better than this. Stronger. More in control. But clearly she was not.
"Rebel stop. You know this isn't what you want,"
"Girl bye," the dark haired girl thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
Rebel's grip on the weapon tightened and she clenched her already tight jaw.
"You're right," she said, "this isn't what I want. What I want..I want them to feel pure pain. The deep, agonizing emotional type that makes your insides twist and contort. I want them to lose everything. Their families, their home, their freedom, their best friend. I want them to lie awake at night wondering why they're not good enough. I want them to feel a loneliness so strong, it cripples them. I want them to suffer. As I did. But unfortunately, we are out of time and I am out of patience. So since I can't get exactly what I want..."
She cocked the gun.
"You assholes. Are going. To fucking bleed,"
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I actually wrote something.
Wow.
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Random person: Hey what're you doing?
Me: I'm reading a book...
Random person: Oh cool? Is it good? What's the name?
*Stares down at (insert shipname) fanfiction*
*Sweats nervously"
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Teenagers start a war after being told not to start a war and then fake their own death after realizing starting a war was a bad idea
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The worse the explanation, the better.
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sometimes I just really want to ask another aspiring writer TONS of questions about their current project………………….. reblog this if you are willing to be that person
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Sometimes I read through an unfinished chapter and deliberately don't continue it cause the person who wrote up to this point is clearly more qualified than I am...
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i’d love to make more friends on writeblr- reblog if i can talk to you?
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Did I make a legend that may or may not be true about my own story instead of actually writing said story? Yes I did it. Do I regret it? Not even a little.
THE LEGEND OF THE BLOOD MOON LAKE
Decades ago… when the Guardian and his team still walked the world, a new civilization rose from the shadows. They called themselves the Fasians. A name linked to the name of the land they appointed as theirs.
This new civilization was very different from the ones the protectors had come into contact with hence far. They were nothing like the peaceful Kendors, creative Starians or philosophical Greavers.
They were violent and unfeeling towards races that were not their own. They killed for sport and drained their victims of the thick red liquid that ran through their veins.
Their killing sprees on the wild animals who roamed their forest upset the Keeper.
He appeared before them to warn them that their crimes against nature would not go unpunished.
The Fasians paid the warning no heed and instead tried to attack the Keeper.
In the midst of their sudden and unnecessary attempt, they set their forest on fire.
Legend says the Keeper was so engulfed in pain and rage at the Fasian’s heartless and ignorant attitude towards nature that he called upon the elements of the wild and with enough fury to battle a hurricane, he killed almost everyone in the tribe.
The ground shook with the screams of his victims. Screams loud and pain-filled enough to make even the bravest of men cower in terror.
Regretting his act immediately, the Keeper tried desperately to get rid of his mistake. So the same night of his mass murder, he threw the dead bodies into Lake Fanustasia.
But alas, the blood of his many victims had turned the lake blood red.
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Worried about what the rest of Secondaria would think, the Keeper called on the help of his fellow protectors.
Together, they cast an enchantment on the lake, returning it to normal.
The Guardian, upset with the Keeper for his actions, cast an enchantment of his own so that every full moon, Lake Fanustasia would revert, becoming a blood filled water body once again and would cry out with the screams of those who had their lives wrongfully taken.
Cries only the Keeper and the Fasians would be able to hear.
This would serve as a warning to both of them.
This way, the Keeper would never take the life of another soul and generations of Fasians to come would know what the consequence could be for their crimes against nature.
This legend is believed to be the reason the Fasians live in the treetops and rarely show their faces to the outside world.
Forever mourning the lives of their ancestors whose spirits will never be put to proper rest…
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if you would be so kind as to reblog this if you feel insecure about your writing skills.
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Moodboards
I made some moodboards recently... Do you guys wanna see them?
Not too confident about them right now.
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Sometimes writing is fun! Sometimes it’s crying into your keyboard as you hurt your own feelings.
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Writerblr Introduction
Hi! My name is Reseanne. Please do not bother trying to pronounce that, you'll be here forever.
I'm new to the writerblr scene and I'm not all too perfect at navigating Tumblr but I'll get there eventually!
I'm a teen fiction and fantasy fiction writer though sometimes I do short stories. I'm currently working on a story called:
Secondaria: Legend of the Protectors
But before I was working on a story called Stingrays. Still working on the name for that one.
I've been writing basically all my life so far and I've realized that nothing hurts a writer more than writing. *sheds a few tears of frustration and pain*
But I'm hoping sharing my work now will motivate me to write more and improve my skill.
Bye!
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