Moans written down

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Well, x-kit updated the reblog yourself and reblog as text extensions on the new bets version. But there are no more reblog and follow button in the upper right corner on a page. So I can’t go to a post of mine from a year ago and reblog it, unless I scroll way down on my main blog post thing, where all the posts are. It’s always something.

Before, I could reblog from my blog but not as text and not myself most of the time. :/

  • 10 hours ago
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anna-bear90 replied to your post: Crossing the Line

Where have yooooou been?! Ive been wondering why youve been missing from my tumblr.

I’ve been busy with school an no inspiration. School’s done. Inspiration is coming back slowly.

tooflytorecognize replied to your post: Crossing the Line

*Slow Clap* Good job, man.

Thank you. After Jen pointed a lot of stuff out at Inkstained I saw how much better it would be if I changed stuff. So I’m happy with it, but it will get a few more drafts. I’m thinking of using it as the beginning to a novella or a novel. We’ll see.

    • #anna-bear90
    • #tooflytorecognize
  • 2 days ago
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Crossing the Line

An old beaten down Buick rolled down a city street and pulled up slowly in front of a three story building. The street flashed red and blue, lit up in the night by police cars. A man carefully got out of the car, avoiding a nearby puddle. He wore a big trench coat and didn’t have an umbrella with him even though it was raining heavily. The man ran across the sidewalk to the entrance of the building and made his way inside.

“Are you a resident, sir?” Asked a uniformed cop before the man could even say a word.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Then I can’t allow you inside, sir. The whole second floor is a crime scene.”

“I’m Danny Cross. Here to see seargent Wardell,” Said the man and fished out an ID out of his pocket. He put it right in front of the cop’s face.

“Outside consultant?”

“That’s right. I consult in certain cases when the department needs my help. Now let me through.”

The officer let him through and Cross made his way up the old staircase to the second floor. It wasn’t hard to guess where the crime took place. The door to the apartment was broken into and a slightly overweight man stood in front. He looked like a cop from a mile off. It was the looks. Cop’s suit, cop’s shoes, cop’s demeanor.

“Wardell, I presume?”

The man turned his attention to Cross, “You the consultant?”

“Yeah, that would be me.”

“My predecessor, Briggs, he told me lots about you,” Wardell said. “I just hope you’re as good as he said. Now, follow me.”

The two men went into the apartment, through the little hallway and into the living room. A blood covered dog lied tied up on the couch.

“Victim’s dog,” Said Wardell and pointed at him. “Someone ought to come soon for him. Other than messing up the crime scene trying he did no harm. He’s been good with everyone.”

Wardell watched the dog for a moment, probably pitying the poor animal, “Come, the body is here.” He turned to his left and went to the bedroom that was connected to the living room. There was a body on the bed.

Cross stopped dead in his tracks. He cocked his head, bit his lip. The body was mutilated. Chunks of flesh scattered around the room. Blood covering the ceiling and the walls. Big, deep gashes across the woman’s body. Her leg completely severed from her body. The face now unrecognizable.

“I did what Briggs told me to do. If I ever had a crime that was hard to explain, impossible even. I call you. Anything strange happens and I call you.”

Cross nodded politely, “Thank you. How many people touched the body?”

“I tried to keep it to a minimum,” Wardell said and leaned against a nearby wall. “What could do this? A wolf, a bear? But…no wolves or bears in an apartment in the middle of the city.”

Cross knelt next to the body. He leaned over and sniffed the blood, ran his hands over the gashes and continued to inspect. Out of his pocket he produced a small vial. Cross took a tiny but of see-through liquid from inside one of the wounds. He pulled out a small bag of yellow powder from another pocket and put it in the vial. It only took a few seconds for the liquid to turn red.

“You’re thinking in the right direction. Not a wolf though, or a bear. It’s a werewolf,” Said Cross and stood up again.

“Excuse me?”

“A werewolf.” Cross paused for a second, looking around the room. “No time to explain. Just trust me. Who called it in?”

“Ummm…the neighbors. One of them broke the door, had a gun with him too. They heard screaming. Came in to find this.”

“Broke the door in you said?”

“Correct.”

“That means it was locked. Which means the killer left and locked up behind him, or he left through the window.” He turned and glanced at the bedroom window, “It’s closed. Either someone closed it later…or he did. There wasn’t enough time to escape. if the neighbors came right in…he just couldn’t have.”

Cross continued scanning the room, the living room. Clicking his tongue every now and again. And then he froze, “Is there a dog’s bowl in the apartment?”

Wardell was taken aback by the question, he took a second to compose himself before answering, “No. Why?”

“No dog’s bowl, no dog food I presume, no dog’s bed, no toys. And still there is a dog,” Cross looked at Wardell, then back at the dog still lying on the couch. “Don’t you find that odd? How did the killer escape, Sergent?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“He never did.”

Cross reached for the inside of his trench coat. His reflexes were astonishingly fast. He turned on his heel, now facing the dog, but the dog wasn’t lying anymore. The dog pounced across the room. His hand now pulling out a gun, Cross was ready. The dog howled like a wolf. His teeth grew in a matter of seconds. His legs bulked up and became hairier. The claws on his feet extending and extending. The dog grew twice the size, in mid-air. In just a second he transformed into a human sized, hairy creature.

His paw swung at Cross but missed by inches. He was just a foot away now and still airborne. Preparing to massacre Cross in a moment, but he had the gun pointed squarely at the monster. The gun went off. The creature flew back onto his rear. It whimpered like an injured dog. Cross had it in his aim once again, but the creature was fast. It jumped above him before he could pull the trigger and crashed through the window. The werewolf gracefully slid through the air, across the street and landed onto the other building. In a blink of an eye it ran off into the night.

Cross stood in front of the window, watching the dark night, “I bet you have a lot of questions.”

Wardell shook from the horror with a blank look on his face, “I demand some information. What the fuck was that?” He shouted at Cross.

“Knowledge is the most important thing in the world, but…there are some things you don’t need to know. This is one of them. “

“But…but…”

“No buts. Now, do exactly as I say. Keep this under the radar, bury the case. It doesn’t get out. i get access to all the files, the body and everything I need. I get a check every week. My services aren’t free. I’ll catch you your monster. Either kill it, or arrest it. It depends. You don’t say this to anyone. That’s how Briggs and I did business. You do as I say and we won’t have any trouble. Understand?”

Sergeant just stared at him for a few seconds, unable to speak, “Yeah. I understand. It can all be done.”

“Good,” Cross said and rushed out of the room. He was already at the front door and heading into the hallway before he said, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a werewolf to catch.”

Source: inkstained.net

    • #short-story
    • #fiction
  • 3 days ago
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I’ve been pretty absent here for some time now. I was busy with the last month of high school and finishing all up. Yesterday was the last day and today Senior’s day. That means the seniors all gather at the main square and dance, have fun and drink a lot. There’s a float with music and it starts a parade (any other word) across the city to the park where live music is organized and all. It’s organized mayhem really, couple thousand drunk seniors who are very happy to be done with school. And every class makes their own shirt with a funny one liner or something cool. That’s why it’s so colorful. It was a blast, my ears are still ringing.
Anyways with that done now I’ll have more time for writing, and Inkstained which I also made yesterday.
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I’ve been pretty absent here for some time now. I was busy with the last month of high school and finishing all up. Yesterday was the last day and today Senior’s day. That means the seniors all gather at the main square and dance, have fun and drink a lot. There’s a float with music and it starts a parade (any other word) across the city to the park where live music is organized and all. It’s organized mayhem really, couple thousand drunk seniors who are very happy to be done with school. And every class makes their own shirt with a funny one liner or something cool. That’s why it’s so colorful. It was a blast, my ears are still ringing.

Anyways with that done now I’ll have more time for writing, and Inkstained which I also made yesterday.

  • 6 days ago
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Somewhere Around Barstow, When Memories Start to Kick in

The waitress looked me all over. The leather jacket, the worn out jeans and my black boots. For a moment I thought I scared her, but I wasn’t wearing a patch so she figured I wasn’t in a motorcycle club and it was probably safe to come near me.

“What will you have, sugar?” She asked. I studied her pretty face and deep blue eyes. She was too pretty to work a joint like this, in a middle of nowhere on a highway no one cares about. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’ll have the french toast and some orange juice.”

She chuckled and flirted a little, or maybe she didn’t since she was a waitress after all, “Since when do bad bikers drink orange juice?”

For a second I thought about making a cheeky joke, go with it and see where it lands, but just 48 hours ago the love of my life decided to end things. It didn’t feel right, “I’m no bad biker, darling. I’m just a guy with a Harley.”

The waitress smiled again, “Ooh. Doesn’t matter. I like good bikers too.” Her look fell down as she said it and saw the shiny ring I had twirling in my hand, “Thinking about proposing? There’s a lot more fancier places.”

“Nah. This ring…she returned it to me just two days ago. It’s run it’s course.”

An awkward silence ensued and the girl decided to nod and get back to work. I continued playing with the damn ring and sipping on my orange juice. She came back after 10 minutes with my french toast and set it on the table.

“What happened between you two if you don’t mind me asking? You seem like quite a catch,” Once again she flirted.

I took a bite of my meal, “Well, there was a time when we were inseparable. We had plans. I’d buy a Harley and we would drive all the way to Louisiana. She always wanted to see New Orleans, then we’d go and see the desert, move up to California too. No restraints, no worries. Just the bike, her and me.”

“Seems like she had a change of mind.” The waitress said.

“Yeah. Somewhere between dream and reality she decided that a Benz, security and a nice place in a quiet neighborhood outrank a Harley and the open road,” I said. “Can’t blame her though. Everyone wants security. A nomad’s life isn’t a pretty one.”

I ate through all my french toast now and took my wallet out. As much as I liked talking to this pretty stranger I figured it was best to leave, “Here you go, darling.”

The waitress smiled, “Where to now?”

“Wherever I end up. I’ll ride around, see which place looks good. You never know where the road might take you.”

She smiled and took a small piece of paper, scrambled and address and a phone number, “If the road ever takes you to Barstow. Why don’t you visit me?”

I took the paper and smiled, got up and went for the door, “Sure, darling. I don’t know your name yet, doesn’t matter. If I ever decide to stop by in Barstow you’ll be my first stop.”

“Have a nice day and take care.” She said.

I put my helmet on and sat on the bike, looking at the open road ahead, the sun shining bright. I could go wherever I wanted. Just me, my bike and the vast beyond. Chances were I’d end up in Barstow sooner than later though, we all know I can’t resist a pair of nice eyes.

The engine came to life and I drove off trying to get as much distance as I could from me and all the troubles back home.

    • #prose
    • #fiction
    • #bonus points for getting the title reference
    • #creative writing
  • 1 week ago > moaningatmidnight
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Neil Young and Crazy Horse - Hey Hey, My My (Into the Black)

Such a great version, wow. Also this is the most diverse crowd I’ve ever seen I think. The old lady going crazy at the end is perfect.

    • #neil young
    • #hey hey my my
  • 1 week ago
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Aditi anonymously submitted a poem, yay!

it’s been so long since I wrote you a poem,
but I hope you know that it doesn’t mean
that I’ve run out of words for you,
for anything, for everything.
I hope you know that I’ve lent you a little plot
on my land, and that you’re always there.
I hope that you understand that I cannot tend to
my crops as often as I’d like to
because at the end of the day, 
I only have two hands.
But with you on my land, my mind, my heart,
I have nothing to worry about.
There’s a little bird perching on my cheek
and it’s singing your name to me;
you are the smile that leaves 
love wedged between my teeth.

    • #poetry
    • #submission
  • 1 week ago
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More suitable names for the “friendzone”

“I’m not really attracted to you” zone

“I see you as a friend because you act like one” zone

“You tried to manipulate me into having sex with you by being nice” zone

“You’re not really a nice guy” zone

“If you were direct and confident from the start you wouldn’t be in this zone” zone

“Being nice doesn’t get you a cookie, and especially not sex” zone

“Please explain how I’m obligated into being attracted to you just because you act like a normal human being” zone

  • 1 week ago
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Q:actually, why do you follow her? but i mean at least you're a writing blog. some guys don't even write a word and they follow her. idk

Anonymous

She’s a friend, she writes…why wouldn’t people be allowed to follow whoever they want. And especially able to follow women without being accused of following them just because of their looks, which Alexandra gets a lot.

I’ll follow whoever I want to.

    • #Anonymous
  • 2 weeks ago
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I just saw a post about how ridiculed black people giving interviews on TV are, but racism is really just a thing to keep your head in the sand. The real problem in the world (though America the most) is classism. The 1% of the richest are pointing and laughing at the poor who are so into fighting about race and gender they don’t understand nowadays the biggest wall between people is class.

I mean, people from different races and religions live more or less together, but look at the super rich behind closed gates, cameras, multimillion dollar houses and thousands of workers behind them.

An independent rapper Immortal Technique and the only rapper I can stand, pretty much said it really good:

“As much as racism bleeds America, we need to understand that classism is the real issue. Many of us are in the same boat and it’s sinking, while these bougie Mother-Fuckers ride on a luxury liner, and as long as we keep fighting over kicking people out of the little boat we’re all in, we’re gonna miss an opportunity to gain a better standard of living as a whole.”

This was a random, kind of political post. I’ll finally write some fiction later. it’s been some time.

  • 2 weeks ago
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About

Avatar An 19 year old guy named Lucian who appreciates film, blues music and writing. Not in that particular order.

Everything posted here is mine unless stated otherwise.

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