My Dear Friend 🌹

My Dear Friend 🌹

This is my mother preparing bread despite the war and bombing everywhere šŸ˜”šŸ’”

I hope you can help me, I want her to be fine šŸ˜”

Thank you very much my friendsšŸ™šŸ™

https://www.tumblr.com/ahmedziaad?source=share

Everyone please help if you can!

More Posts from Ajkiranwrites and Others

1 year ago

Character Archetypes

Peace and blessings upon everyone!

I hope life's treating you well. I’m Esmeray and I welcome you to this post on my blog Dear Esmeray.

Today's post is for my fellow writers here. I'll be sharing with you character archetypes for you to use in your books.

The Warrior

The Child

The Orphan

The Guardian

The Mentor

The Caregiver

The Rebel

The Leader

The Ruler

The Lover

The Everyman

The Joker/Jester

The Explorer

The Hero

The Outlaw

The Villian

The Tyrant

The Bastard Child

The Sadist

The Evil Genius

The Terrorist

The Lunatic

The Black Widow

The Schemer

The Anti-Hero

The SideKick

The Traitor

I hope this post helped you assign an archetype to your beloved OCs or perhaps inspired your newest OC.

With love, Esmeray ā™”

2 years ago

The Moon Singing on Homely Nights

The moon sings softly on the nights Esther climbs in through her brother’s window. These nights turn sparser as Amador stays in his new apartment across the country. During these nights, her heart beats in a lulled pace while she sits on his empty bed.Ā 

There’s a soft click as she unlatches the window and when she crawls in, she makes sure to land on her toes. She finds more than just her older brother. She doesn’t know what she’ll see or what she hopes to see. When she’d last seen him, he’d slammed the door, tears streaking down his face and voice hoarse from screaming. She still doesn’t have the full pieces from the fight that led to her father’s roaring voice startling their home into silence and the unusual pitch of Amador’s voice as he walked out the door.Ā 

She opens his bedroom door to see if he is in the living room or spending his time in a library. She hopes he’s found a library he likes here despite all that has transpired.Ā 

Amador’s head is lolled on the couch, his mouth parted and dead to the world. His body is slightly tilted with one arm around his childhood friend, Maya’s sleeping form who was hugging her brother’s waist. The ugly green blanket Esther had gifted him as a joke is bunch around their feet as if kicked. There’s Snakes n Ladders, playing cards, and Candyland strewn across the table.Ā 

Maya had always filled Amador’s head with ideas—little fantasies that didn’t include Esther most likely that he could escape into. Frowning, she steps forward, fully planning to yank the woman out but the floor creaks loudly under her feet. They both jolt open, Amador’s shaking his head and Maya drags her hands across her face to remove her hair from her mouth, scrunching her face.Ā 

When Amador turns around to face the source of the sound, he finds her face and gives a dopey smile. ā€˜Hey, you’re home. When d’you come here?’ 

This is the first time she heard him call this place home, and a little piece of Esther’s heart cracks as if he’s renouncing the family home. Something vicious crawls onto Esther’s tongue as she bites out, ā€˜Thought you’d know that you’ve not succeeded in getting rid of me yet.’ 

Milas flinches as hurt flashes across his face, and in an instant, Maya grips his arm. Esther can never guess how Maya knows that while still keeping her piercing gaze fixed on her.

ā€˜I don’t want to get rid of you,’ Amador says in confusion before letting out a shaky laugh, ā€˜no matter how annoying you are, you little rugrat.’ 

Esther should ideally know that. She doesn’t have the full pieces of the fight he had with mom and dad, or the unfamiliar way he’s glancing at Esther, still wary but now distant. Even in the moonlight, she can see the color back on his face, the surety of his movements as he tidies up the table and the blanket to give Esther a place to sit.Ā 

When Maya flicks on the floor lamp in the corner, his eyes crinkle at Esther and he pats the seat next to him. His cheeks are no longer sallow, his face no longer as pale as Esther, and he no longer sways in a way that makes Esther worry that a faint breeze could have knocked the husk of a rock her brother used to be.Ā 

Her brother had been wasting away for months, and Esther had not noticed.Ā 

From the corner of her eyes, Maya walks in with two plates balanced in a tray and slides the biggest portion of what looks like heated leftover lasagna to her brother, glancing warily, as she reminds him, ā€˜You’d promised you’d eat tomorrow nine hours ago. It’s 12:03. Eat up.’ 

She offers another to Esther as she leisurely nibbles on peanuts to keep her brother company. Her brother makes a little face at the size, and Maya produces a bar of chocolate in her fingers seemingly out of thin air as a bribe and chews obnoxiously loud until he drops it. He slouches to rest his head on Maya’s shoulders in acquiesce like Esther had seen him do a thousand times since she could remember, and the woefully domestic scene sours her heart.Ā 

Her plate remains untouched and she nods her head in gratitude for the food and the company. She makes excuses poorly at best and outlandish at worst, and walks out the door.Ā 

One day, she would know the words of the fight and Amador’s dreams if he’d let her, but for now, she takes the earliest train home. As she looks through the window, she sees her mother’s eyes with dark circles underneath. They both have her eyes, but this new Amador’s eyes gleam bright enough to quiet the moon.Ā 


Tags
2 years ago

ingrid sundberg's colour dictionary - writing help

Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help
1 year ago

One of the best writing advice I have gotten in all the months I have been writing is "if you can't go anywhere from a sentence, the problem isn't in you, it's in the last sentence." and I'm mad because it works so well and barely anyone talks about it. If you're stuck at a line, go back. Backspace those last two lines and write it from another angle or take it to some other route. You're stuck because you thought up to that exact sentence and nothing after that. Well, delete that sentence, make your brain think because the dead end is gone. It has worked wonders for me for so long it's unreal

2 years ago

Only in dreams could I cross the walls of time and space to feel the curve of her body next to mine.

And it will have to be enough


Tags
2 months ago

the big three questions of media analysis: what the author wanted to say, what they actually said, and what they didn’t know they were saying

1 month ago

readings: essays, articles & short stories pt. 2

the winter of civilisation

fruits we'll never taste, languages we'll never hear: the need for needless complexity

emily dickinson and the creative solitude of space

the lost art of looking at nature

the bowl, the ram and the folded map: navigating the complicated world

ada limón on preparing the body for a reopened world

before it was 'bittersweet', nostalgia was seen as a parasite

why alien languages could be far stranger than we imagine

the fig leaf, benjamin shane evans

cat pianos, sound-houses, and other imaginary musical instruments

of shark moves, shell shocks, and trash landings on the moon

as bright as a feather — ostriches, home dyeing, and the global plume trade

getting ahead, jonas karlsson

do these florida dolphins have a language?

the form of a demon and the heart of a person: kitagawa utamaro's prints of yamauba and kintarō (ca. 1800)

who needs ai text-generation when there's erasmus of rotterdam

when memories from fiction become part of who you are

how do transgender people remember their earlier selves?

1 year ago

The writeblr side of my dash is pretty inactive, so please interact with this post if you're an active writing blog! My main is over at @brw, so that's where follows will be coming from :)

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ajkiranwrites - SphinxofBlackQuartz
SphinxofBlackQuartz

Original Work Primary Blog. Sideblog for fanfics @stickdoodlefriend Come yell at me! | 18+

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