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st-a-y · 10 months

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Sadness hits at two am, and four am and then suddenly it's three pm and it is still stuck onto you. Sadness is like glue and it sticks to you like someone rubbed it onto every pore of your body.When was the last time you smiled girly? Have you laughed since last year? The stench of cigarettes on your fingertips is your new perfume and the curled up smoke i see criss-crossing into your hair and out of your mouth is nearly haunting.You’re beautiful. But why are you so sad man, i can’t remember the last time you talked to me, or anyone, the glue like sadness got a hold of your cherry pink lips and it lingers there like its the best part, your heart is glued shut, and your lips no longer remember the freedom of talking out loud instead of bieng stuck in your own mind, listening to yourself over and over again. Girly you’re messing with my head, your sadness it seems beautiful, i think you’re addicted to it, and i think it’s fucked because you’re making me lose my mind, i romanticize you, why am i romanticizing you, you’re the saddest thing i’ve ever seen, and yet, yet you’re the most beautiful.

#sad #writing #writers #words #spiltink #spilled #broke #broken #poetry #dark #darkwriting #love #girl #sadgirl #lonely #alone #crying #smoking #aestehtic #aesthetic writing #dark blogs #dark writers

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diaryofdarkdevil · 8 months

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Evilness isn't dead, just faded. Am not evil, just a sobering darkdevil who live in shadows.

When you feel nothing but forced to breathe and survive, nothing anymore bothers you. Nothing will anyhow bother you.. You don't bother love, lust don't attract u anymore, no one's charm is appealing u anymore. I wonder where this is driving me into. I ponder whether it is fine or not. Million thoughts in my head affecting and building the heaviness in my heart. A ruined bitch who lives in complete darkness. No soul to open my locked up coffin. The key to my coffin is lost and buried long gone... If u find my grave, u can still see my bloody bones breathing to death..

- Nandhini Chithra 🥀🖤

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xisadorapurlowx · 1 year

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Welcome to My Blog ^^

My name is Isadora and I'm a writer.

Disclaimer

I've been writing ever since I was twelve, starting off in fanfiction and then moving onto original fiction when I was fourteen (Although that doesn't mean to say I don't write fanfic anymore lmao)

I'm deeply influenced by anime and manga, some of my favourites being: Banana Fish, My Hero Academia and Bungo Stray Dogs. Also classic novels, plays and some musicals (Heathers, Six and The Phantom of the Opera) My most recent WIP was inspired by the Manta Webcomic, My Husband, My Sister and I.

Current Read: The Mysterious Case of Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde

My current WIP Progress: I'm currently ironing out a new plot for my book whilst I work on a book of short stories - I'm not sure if I'll publish them online or in book format, still thinking about that and may publish it behind a pay wall???

I also keep a commonplace book! I'll be uploading quotes from that book under the tag: #isadorascommonplace

I tag all writing advice I find on Tumblr under #stuffifinduseful

Things I do that aren't writing related:

I play Genshin Impact - AR 56 and Xiaoless, proud Kaeya main.

Yoga, meditate, collect shiny rocks.

Daydream

Simp for Shigaraki (This would be my full time job if I could get paid for it lol)

Play HSR, Trailblazer Level - 70, Welt Main, Jing Yuan & Imbibitor Lunae <3

Series I have Written:

Books:

Bloodstained Lilium - Available on Amazon if you prefer paperback

Bloodstained Lilium Prequel Stories:

These are my little prequel stories to Bloodstained Lilium - they generally make little to no impact on the main story.

Jai's Story: Masterlist

Years Ago...

Other Things to Know:

MDNI

DO NOT PUT MY WORK INTO A.I. DON'T LET ROBOTS STEAL CREATIVE JOBS.

I have ADHD.

I don't tolerate hate speech of any kind - get that bigotry out of here.

My pro-nouns are she/her/they/them :)

I look forward to writing with you all :D

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yail13 · 1 year

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Just something that came up to me. Inspired by SwanQueen #swanqueen #dark #darkpoetry #poem #darkpoet #darkpoems #darkwritings #writeups #writeup https://www.instagram.com/p/CkaQJhUO9xD/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#swanqueen #dark #darkpoetry #poem #darkpoet #darkpoems #darkwritings #writeups #writeup

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darkwriter1 · 1 year

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The Fourth Victim: Sara's Story (The Foundation Book 1)

Sara’s emotionally abusive husband dies unexpectedly. She’s struggling to reclaim the intelligent, independent person she was before she married. She vows never to let a man take over her life again. Now she’s part of a special team, training to help other women. Mac is has been responsible for training women in special ops techniques so they are prepared when they are challenged to save other…

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#Author #Suspense #Beverley Bateman #Contemporary #darkwriter #Romance #Romance Author

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lilac-den · 4 years

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The 0 among numbers

Warning: Pretty dark thinking, mental conflicts, a bit of depression dripped in.

This isn’t exactly something I write for myself. It’s mainly out of the frustration of a lot of things, especially at how little people have treated content creators or the like, how degrading they believe the creators are without knowing the struggles they faced in completing what they drew, written or created.

So I guess this is my way to send a small message to any content creator that struggles with self-worth or facing self-doubt.

I’m not sure if it will brighten up your day or darken it. I’m more focused on the fact any content creator who loves their creation or work as much as a parent to a child deserves more love than the world can offer.

Thank you for taking the time to check this out. Feel free to share or reblog this to anyone you know to be a loving content creator.

“You suck.”

“You’re bad at this.”

“Why are you even alive, lol?”

“Why is this still going on?”

“This is too hard. This sucks.”

Hands are settled to a stop. My body grows slack in exhaustion while my eyes trail on to the comments on the window of my computer. Hate is blaring with daggers; toxicity is pouring out in letters and spite paints it all as a huge front-line notice.

Heaviness weighs down on me. A sinking depth lies within my mind. Tension fills my shoulders. I cross my arms on the top of my desk and rest my forehead onto them.

They’re just haters.

They’re nothing more than words.

They’re just looking to start a fight.

But even so, that doesn’t make the pain any less suffocating.

No matter how hard I try on my own, they keep increasing. 1, 2, 3, 4. More and more, they grow. The hate simply increases.

Is there a purpose for my creation?

Are there any enjoyment found in what I have produced?

Have there been any sense of comfort to those who desire what I consider my own version of art?

“I don’t like how this turns out – can’t you change it?”

“I don’t get it – why did you make it so easy? Make it harder.”

“The plot is too complicated.”

“The art style isn’t my taste – maybe try using watercolours.”

“This is pure shit. Why are you even continuing this? Just stop already, you suck.”

It’s like an echo; repeating over and over against my ears. I can feel my chest constricting, my throat tightening and hands clutching onto me to drag me down.

I get up. I pace around the room.

Keep moving. Keep going.

Don’t let their words catch you.

Don’t let your mind be clouded.

“When are you going to post more?”

“Where’s the next part?”

“Dude, why is it taking so long? Writing can’t be that hard, right?”

“Why are these drawings locked behind some pay toll? It’s just a couple of drawings – they should be free, asshole.”

“This is just like every other people. Just because you can write, or draw doesn’t mean there should be a pay bar. Make it free for all of us!”

“Hey, if anyone paid for the content, share it with the rest of us! I don’t want my money to get wasted lol”

My breath shudders.

90…91…92…

93…94…95…

“I can draw better than this bitch.”

“Seriously, you call this writing? Lol, I can make it better than that.”

“Why is there a hiatus? Fuck this shit, I’m out.”

“Dumb creator can’t fix their own rl shit #ripcreator”

96…97…98…99…

…

Why are people so entitled?

Why do people assume our life is expendable?

Do they not realize the blood, sweat and tears that were poured?

Or have they never tasted the blockage or burn outs that many of us face?

I don’t know…And I lost the will to muster anything beyond despair.

I stop pacing.

I stop moving.

I set myself back onto the chair and sigh, staring…My vision blurs. I blink.

It feels like something’s broken in me.

Something hollow.

Something empty.

These people who have seen my work, watched it, continue to berate me. Mock me. Haunt me. Like I’m nothing but a singular number to them.

…No.

A number earns more respect than that.

They have value.

They have a purpose.

I’m just a zero to them.

I’m nothing.

I’m just an empty waste of space.

I’m just a failed creator.

I’m…I’m just a waste of time.

No one would miss me.

…

“I love your work.”

I raise my head. A person stands out, amongst the hate. The hate goes silent. The person continues typing out.

Please don’t take their words to heart. You’ve gotten me through tough times.

It hurts a lot to have people bully you about what you love.

I know.

But I still think they’re awesome.

I know they’re great.

You put so much heart and effort in them.

Even if people say your stuff sucks,

I still think they’re worth living for.

And I know there’s at least one person out there who would agree with me.

Like how there’s one community who cares about what you do.

Sure enough, that one person invites another…and another…and so much more.

“Give them a break! They’ve been working their ass off!”

“They’re already publishing so hard in between their free time!”

“I love the way you draw the eyes.”

“I’m crying over this RO – I want to hug them so bad!”

“I love their personality. I’ll need to try romancing them with a different MC!”

“This is so cool!”

“Please take care of yourself – take all the time you need.”

These words make me elevate. The suffocation, the hands, the pressure.

They disappear. I smile. I laugh. I cry from the absolute relief as I wipe away the signs of my pure joy at the recognition. All from someone who loves my work.

If the world considers me something worse than 0, then I can consider myself 00. I will agree to that.

Because in the end, I only need one to feel like 100.

#writingsnippet #contentcreatorappreciation #creatorappreciation #lovethycreator #darkwriting

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sullyapieceofme · 3 years

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How am I supposed to explain how I feel when feelings are just chemical reactions reacting, colliding, mixing destroying, numbing me until I feel ashamed of wearing this skin, of breathing beside you on those cold nights. If you only knew how much I hate these chemicals, how much I hate myself.

#poetry #love #poetry on tumblr #spilled ink #writing #truth #poets on tumblr #darkwriting #darkwords #chemicals #hate #death #life #life is hard

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killingyousoftlywithmywords · 3 years

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Why did I stop posting in here for so long? So last year was the worst year of many of our lives, I'll tell you why it was mine... on the 15th February 2020 I tried to commit suicide, I lay unconscious vomiting blood uncontrollably, my girlfriend at the time called an ambulance and I was rushed straight into resuss, I remember desperately asking myself why she saved me, if I'd have just died when I tried, I'd never have had to endure the break up... she was the love of my life you know and I can't tell anybody because everyone who knew her just tells me how wrong she was for me, we actually met on tumblr, weird huh? Anyway, I'm ranting here because who else is there to talk to? I've been sober for a month! Yeah and I work out for 2 hours daily! I'm really trying, you know? And me and my ex tried to be friends for a while, but it'll never work... ugh, how are you feeling? Thanks for reading my boring life post 👌

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beingcassyrose · 4 years

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#darkwriting #quoteoftheday #writewhatyoufeel #write what you know #write what you want to read #writers #writers on tumblr

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dragonynox · 4 years

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Creators of the world, a power - couple . . . #words #wordpower #writing #darkpoetry #art #artsay #freespirit #fairytales #philosophical #godsanddemons #godess #gothistyle #darkwriting #micropoetry #lightanddarkness #lifesjourney #death #ghost #fantasystory #fantasy #myth #mythologyart #mythology #darkwriting #gothistyle #gothictale #wordswithkings #wordswithqueens #writersnetwork #enlightment #sprüche #geschichten https://www.instagram.com/p/B7ywUjaFSNx/?igshid=nbs3vwpiyqpl

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emisanemu · 5 years

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Bad Decisions

I constantly make bad decisions. Sometimes I can only reflect on the right and wrong but ever actually make the safe choices in the moment. But the worst choice I made was befriending a demon. A nasty little demon, an almost self identified succubus, evil in its nature, so willing and ready to take. She takes life, friends, happiness, every little ounce of hopefulness that you may have. Yet, in this demon I found a friend, woefully unable to find anyone else, at least anyone that would stay. So instead I stayed accompanying a demon just in the hopes of having one person I can keep. Although person Is a strong word as there is no human within the demon. The demon that I trusted, that I looked up to, that I even considered a part of myself. I just make these bad decisions that I wish to forget that I want to be over.

#poem #poetry #darkpoem #writing #writingprompt #darkwriting #story #darkpoetry #darkstory #prompt #mywriting

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diaryofdarkdevil · 9 months

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If anything have the ability to suffocate my heart, I'll blindly go for it.

To be dead is an urge, like alcoholics have for alcohol and druggist have for drugs.... It's that one urge beating my heart...

- Nandhini Chithra🥀🖤

#literature quotes #chaotic thoughts #dark academia #chaotic academia #chaotic academic aesthetic #dark acadamia quotes #dark academia vibes #dark literature #dark words #darkwritings #sad quotation #sad post #sad thoughts #sadgirl #sad quotes #quoteoftheday #death quotes

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allscrawlwrites-blog · 5 years

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We need you

You are what matters,

Not how well you fit into society.

You matter because you are different,

You matter because you make mistakes,

You matter because YOU ARE REAL.

You are stronger than you know.

Life isn't always easy,

Sometimes death seems like a way out,

A choice you can make to take back control.

You can make another choice.

Choose to fight and to struggle.

Choose to be the outcast.

Choose to love and be loved.

WE NEED YOU!

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

On a very personal note, I've made mistakes, hurt people I've loved, had days where I truly believed there was no way out. If you want someone to listen without any judgements, please PM me. I know you don't know me and I don't know you, but I really do care that you are around. @allscrawlwrites

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yail13 · 1 year

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#darkpoetry #darkpoetrycommunity #darkpoetryhouse #darkpoetryofinstagram #darkpoetrysociety #dark #poetry #poem #poetrycommunity #poems #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #wtiting #writer #darkwriter https://www.instagram.com/p/Ckx10a6upKh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#darkpoetry #darkpoetrycommunity #darkpoetryhouse #darkpoetryofinstagram #darkpoetrysociety #dark #poetry #poem #poetrycommunity #poems #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #wtiting #writer #darkwriter

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le-ging · 6 years

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Wreckage

Dark skies, broken glass.

The smell of burning rubble.

The world around us in a frenzy.

But between us it was still.

Both broken and damaged, we faced each other.

Love kept us close.

Hurt kept us apart.

Looking into deep blue I begged you to help me.

But your eyes cried out the same.

We look around at everything broken.

But somehow always jus end up staring back at each other.

Both begging for someone to heal it.

Someone to take away the pain.

To make it all still.

#wreckage #writing #love #heartbreak #anxiety #broken #hurt #help #boyfriend #girlfriend #relationship #friendzone #bestfriend #cute #dark #darkwriting

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laicriptic · 6 years

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Caleb (Short Story)

A tall rugged man dressed in formal charcoal trousers accompanied with a buttoned up shirt tucked neatly in, along with a black trench coat with its collar up concealing the man’s neck stood above his most recent project. A spotlight shinning directly above his work. However this one had failed just as the others had. A bloody torso lay on a table before him. The blood dripping down the side and drenching the floor. In a corner a severed arm peaks out of the shadows. In another corner remains of what used to be legs clutter the floor.

Caleb stood and looked at another failure but I assure you, it was not the last. The night is still young. Caleb places his butcher knife down next to the torso and removes his gloves. He heads outside and lights a cigarette. He sighs and gazes into the small flames of the cigarette. Surrounding him is his garden. Lush plants and beautifully grown rose bushes with a stone path leading into his home and to his workshop.

He finishes his cigarette and decides to go out for a stroll in the fresh and crisp early night air.

Along the way he passes various bars that are probably full of potential clients but he would rather prefer something a little more sober so to speak. In the distance he hears hymns. As he gets closer he realises that the hymns are coming from a church service.

“Perfect.” He says to himself.

He takes a seat on a nearby bench and patiently waits. However something in one of the alleyways takes his attention. At first he just hears screaming. A women’s scream. He slowly walks over to investigate. He turns the corner. His shadows casts over a small man beating a women.

Caleb stares and sighs. The man stops and begins to approach Caleb with his fists curled, ready to attack.

“I must tell you that I do not recommend that. You will regret it.”

The man ignores Caleb’s words and proceeds to attack. Caleb reaches into left pocket and pulls out something. It is too dark to see anything. As the man is about the procced with his first punch Caleb quickly cuts a straight and shallow line into the man’s stomach with a homemade knuckle blade. The man instantly becomes paralysed. The women lets out screams. Calling for help.

Caleb walks over to her and puts his finger over her lips quieting her.

“No one is going to hear you. Those hymns drown out your screams just as much as their religion does.” Tears begin to fall down the women’s face.

“No, no do not cry’ he wipes the tears from her face. ‘You are special. You get to be involved in something special.”

The women, in her frightened state lets out a croaky “What?”

Caleb lets out a smile.

“I like your eyes.” He says as he closely examines them.

The women’s expression turn from being scared to confused.

“Sorry, it is rude of me to just stare. Where was I? Ah yes I wanted to say that you are going to be my next project and I think your friend over there as well but I’ll do something different with him.”

The women tries to let out a scream but is stopped by a damp cloth over her mouth. She collapses to the ground.

“Now that that is done for the moment, let’s get to you.” He says as he walks over to the man that is beginning to gain movability.

“Hmm… I think I should send a message to those church goers. They did sing those hymns too loud for that poor girl over there and do you want to know what else they did?” The man looks up at him and says nothing.

“I went there to do the whole confess your sins thing and I did just that but, you know what they said. They said that I’m going to hell. Well maybe that’s true but it is still not a nice thing to say don’t you think?”

“You are going to hell you freak.” Replied the man and spat at Caleb’s shoes.

Like a flash Caleb grips the man by the neck and lifts him. “I am going to enjoy this.” His tone now angrier. He swiftly punches the man and knocks him out and heads to the nearest rooftop entrance

The man wakes up a few minutes later.

“You’re awake. Splendid. Now time to go. I had fun.”

When the man turns Caleb is nowhere to be found. The man beams with relief.

He hears a whisper in his ear. “I hope you like the drop.”

Before the man can turn a rope is yanked around his neck and he is thrown over the roof of the church. His neck instantly breaks.

Caleb heads down to retrieve the women who is still unconscious. As he carries her in his arms he turns the corner to see the man hanging in front of an illuminated sign with the words ‘Welcome Home’ lit up. He smiles and walks home.

He checks his watch. It is only midnight.

Caleb heads through his garden to his workshop and gently places the women next to the torso he had specifically left behind for his next visitor.

“Hmm… I could wait for you to wake up but I did use a heavy dosage tonight. What the hell, I’ll just start now.”

He picks up his butchers knife and begins to cut of different parts of the women’s body. First the arms then the legs.

“This left leg should work.” He says as he places it next to the torso.

He continues to cut off bits of the now dead body. Blood covers his hands. His knife is dripping with plasma. He suddenly remembers.

“The eyes.” He exclaims.

With what could be a spoon but with a sharper point, Caleb Slowly removes an eye and carefully places it down. He then proceeds to remove the other and places it next to the other.

He drops the knife and hurries of to retrieve a head that he had been saving for a rainy day.

“Now let us begin.”

He picks up a wooden box from underneath the work bench. From the box he retrieves and needle and some thick thread. He starts with the head and stitches it to the torso. Next he does the arms and the legs. Finally he moves onto the eyes and slowly and perfectly places perfect emerald green eyes into the head of the body.

He does some finishing touches and then stands back to look at his creation.

Caleb stares at his accomplishment but something catches his eye from the women’s bag. He walks over and takes out a packet full of smaller packets of cocaine. With the packet is another bag full of bank notes and paper of anonymous orders for numerous illegal drugs.

Caleb fills with anger as he realises that another one of his creations is a failure. He runs over to the body and rips its limbs off, throwing them to corners of the room. He uses the butcher knife to constantly stab the body’s chest. Small amount of blood spew out of the limbs. Lastly he rips both eyes out of their dead sockets and throw them onto the floor where he vigorously stomps on them, screaming at the top of his voice. Caleb falls down to the floor soaking his clothes in blood and tears that begin to roll down his face.

#death #shortstory #writing #writers #writeblr #horror #killer #dark #darkwriting

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