Tumgik
#originalwriting
a-dreamersjournal · 1 month
Text
"Death is a gift you haven't earned yet"
And just as I was about to take that final step off the ledge, a strong gust of wind pushed me back. A cold haunting voice greeted me as soon as my back touched the hard floor beneath.
"You're not done dying yet", it said. " I'll land the final blow. So until then, die a little everyday because death is a gift you haven't earned yet. But when the time comes, I'll be there, to collect what's left of your sanity and life. A life you lived, wishing you were dead everyday."
And my lips curled into a smile because I knew that now the race between death and my will to die has begun. Life was finally getting fun.
Tumblr media
27 notes · View notes
Text
the human element
the calm before the storm...
wait for it...
I can feel it...
come on...
it's been calm too long...
where the hell is the storm?
by @inadvertently-writing©
21 notes · View notes
sapphirefate · 3 months
Text
My demon
I was pleased to meet a devil who treated me better,
He refused a deal but protected me like Heather.
He had a tattoo etched into him perhaps, he was etched into my soul.
He was an angel to me while a devil to the rest of the world.
When he said he would leave me alone,
I pleaded for a deal and pledged my soul.
But he left me with scars while all I needed was him because he was my home.
22 notes · View notes
abitbrokenpoetry · 10 months
Text
And if you notice.. the world is falling apart.. let it.. let the flames dance around you and watch it burn.. to nothing more than ash.. you can’t save it anyway.. no one can.. so let it end. there’s beauty in the destruction.. in the chaos… There’s serenity in the sound of the crackling of wood.. there’s cleansing with each inhale/ exhale of bitter smoke.. and when it’s done, weep with sorrow.. weep as long as want to, grieve for all that was lost.. then get up from the ruins and start again.
50 notes · View notes
mypoeticsoul-ny · 8 months
Text
Everything
Maybe if death comes
It will finally stop to hurt
Maybe all the chasing,
Will finally stop short
Maybe if the days end
The mind will stop to reel
And everything at once,
Will simply stop to feel
©5.19.2023 - MyPoeticSoulNy(-mps)
18 notes · View notes
lilydavisauthor · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
This is a sample of my writing for one of my alien species that will be featured in my Courting Constellations series.
Currently the very Spicy Dark explicit short story sits at just under 5k words with more installments to come. This short story will be posted in full under the Dark Spice and All Inclusive tier of my : patreon.com/LilyDavisNovels
The Fosci are a monstrous Lamia\Naga alien who's only humanoid feature happens to be their torso and arms. Lovely sketch by my friend attached. 
Trigger\Tags that apply to full post: Kidnapping, Dubcon-heavy dubcon, Oviposition, Sensory deprivation, Naga alien, ‘Venom’ injection\drugging, Double cocks- one an egg layer. Technically an ovipositor, Cervix penetration, Stomach bulge from both cock and eggies, Overstimulation, Crying, Too many orgasms, Rut cycles\breeding stamina, Mild to medium bondage with rope and tail, Mild abrasions and cuts from claws, Vaginal gaping, Bloodplay, Heavy predator prey, Some initial concern over being Eaten as a meal, Rough use, Characters passing out from fucking, Oral, Vaginal and implied anal, FxM, MxM, Male and Female egg incubator, Start of mind break.
Please be respectful as this is written fantasy and is not a real life condoning of these situations. 
---------------------- "Breeding Season" teaser: SFW
The nightmare was back. Heavy, humid air pressed down on the fleeing figure from all sides; shadows thickened by the overlapping canopy of towering trees. Sunlight occasionally broke through to throw a patch of dazzling brilliance onto the leaf littered forest floor, but that only deepened the eerie twilight shrouded surroundings further. Twigs snapped loud as blaster shots under the booted heels of the pursued and wherever she turned the sounds of the insect life hushed until she had gone; as though the very presence of the human in their midst was a threat.
Sweat dripped down Jenna’s temples, ran into her eyes, pooled at the small of her back. She had no idea how long she had been running, only that she couldn’t stop. Whatever was hunting her would not give up so easily. She had almost seen it a few turns back but the darkness of the jungle had prevented her from getting more than a glimpse. She knew it was large. Knew it was hungry. Knew if it caught her there would be no escape. The blood smeared over the trunk of a tree directly in her path under another bright spot of sunlight made the woman’s stomach turn.
The blood was red. Nothing on this planet bled red but other humans. In her nightmare the woman always woke up just as she tripped on a root and went face first into the viscera spattered leaves at the base of the tree, the silhouette of the creature hunting her rising up in her periphery. She always bolted upright in her bed with the slickness of her palms still lingering, heart hammering as the scent of blood faded from her nose. That was where her nightmare ended. Only this time, she hadn’t woken up.
She hadn’t even felt the bite. Her wrist ached from the impact with the jungle floor in a dull, far away sensation that she instinctively knew couldn’t last forever. Her neck was numb and tingling where the fangs of the creature had struck the moment its tail had lifted from its camouflage to trip her. There had been no root, no blood. Just the blind panic of running for her life and the mistake of looking over her shoulder to see the thing hunting her that had been two steps ahead.
8 notes · View notes
artificelux · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
A brief excerpt of the main character in my upcoming novel COLOR OF A MIRROR.
Now on Kickstarter. Check it out below!
57 notes · View notes
beluolisablog · 13 days
Text
Tumblr media
original writing by Olisa, quote Goswami (1993)
3 notes · View notes
lesbrooke02 · 1 month
Text
I am my mother’s daughter. I love someone until I cannot find enough love for myself, I scream into an empty void hoping anyone can hear me and come help, and if they do I won’t accept the help because I am also strong to a fault. I convince myself I need to be strong enough for everyone around me so they won’t fall, but who is there when I fall? My mom and I go in a constant cycle of being there for one another, I cry on her shoulder then within the hour she is crying on mine, we are one in the same. Some days I feel I only have my mom to talk to because we have had similar experiences in the worst ways possible. My mother and I have a trauma bond, we have seen too much together and I am not sure if that helps us or sends us deeper into the darkest pits of our minds. I fear I ruined my mother in some way, she had more going for her before I came along, I wish I could fix it all. I have tried my whole life not to be a carbon copy of my mother, that’s what everyone expected of me, but at the end of the day I am my mother’s daughter. I’m sorry. 
2 notes · View notes
polinawrites · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
An excerpt from my short story. 
You can read it on my Substack Lina creates: https://open.substack.com/pub/linagmills/p/room?r=3b251o&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web
2 notes · View notes
daisyjwilde · 5 months
Text
White whispers are louder than Brown screams. Silence is the loudest of them all. 
5 notes · View notes
a-dreamersjournal · 1 month
Text
The sweetest poison.
I knew I religiously loathed myself when you kissed me softly and I hated it. Because somehow, it wasn't hurting me. You weren't hurting me. And I don't recognize myself when I'm not aching. I still remember the night when you held me and I begged you to kiss me hard, hard enough to draw blood from my lips, I couldn't tell you how I longed to feel the pain. So when you smiled, confused, I smiled back, dismissing my plea as a joke. I was too ashamed to confess how desperately I wanted love to hurt me, to give up on one last strand of dim hope. To give up on the hope that, maybe love could save me. I wish I knew the pain i was seeking would break my skin and bones, make me crawl and beg for mercy every single day. I didn't know you could Love like that, Darling. I didn't know you could make me hurt like that.
Did you somehow figure out I wasn't Joking that night? Or did you hurt me because..you simply could? I guess I will never know the answer to that. But for what it's worth.. You are the sweetest most deadliest poison I ever had.
Tumblr media
31 notes · View notes
inadvertently-writing · 9 months
Text
Am I
I smell the strife that no one smells…
I taste the fragments of fear and loathing
I yell the gripe that no one hears
as it echos in my mind..releasing a deluge
of anger from the remains of yesteryear
I dont mind not minding
I don't smell the odiferous stagnation of a societal
meltdown as it drips like candle wax on a warm night…
I can taste the metalic flavor of a long lost episodic
occurence as it replays itself again and again
I can reach into the past and bring it to the present;
I often taste the taste(s) of yesteryear
as they drench my saliva with thoughts
I am the destiny of myself;
destined to be the me that i was meant to be
to be
to not be
the me
the (not) me
to see
to not(sea)
to me,
or not to me…
To whom it may concern,
I am alone...
not alone but lone(ly)
I am
By@inadvertently-writing ©
41 notes · View notes
kaleidoscopevisualart · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media
Abstract Symmetrical Artwork Design Pattern Kaleidoscope Visual Relaxation
5 notes · View notes
abitbrokenpoetry · 10 months
Text
You patched up.. the holes in our boat.. with duct tape.. and complained.. that your socks were wet.. but me?.. I just sat there.. waiting for this boat.. to slowly finish sinking.. until it finally did.. now I contemplate.. here at the bottom.. of the ocean.. how many times.. I’ve gone down.. with the ship.
20 notes · View notes
mypoeticsoul-ny · 1 year
Text
There are nights when I get emotional for no reason at all, and somehow I'd like to think that it's my heart weeping for my dreams that didn't come true. I guess I'd been so used to people talking about how painful a broken heart is, but this kind, I've come to learn, is something that hits differently. Time may make it feel better, but little random moments remind me of those things that I used to pray for, I used to work hard for, that I had to let go because they just weren't working out no matter how hard I try—and then I break a little.
I know that in life, finding contentment in what we have is key to happiness. But maybe the heart really doesn't forget. Maybe the stars do weep at night. Whatever the case is, my little hope is that those dreams I had to let go, those little things that shine and that person I so wished to have become, I hope that they're all broken pieces of the puzzle and one day, they will fall into their rightful place to show me something more beautiful than what my heart could ever ask for.
—Jun Mark Patilan
33 notes · View notes