Shy Sugar Writer @shysugarwriter - Tumblr Blog

Looking for RP Partners

General Information:

I’m 18 years old.

I do double ups.

I’ve been roleplaying for more than 6 years.

I can collaborate on a plot.

Fandoms I Do:

Queen

BioShock

CupHead

Encanto

Resident Evil: Village

Lore Olympus

What I’m Currently Looking For:

I’m mainly focusing on a Queen role play.

OC x CC.

I LOVE drama in the plot-line.

I’m looking for someone to play as either Roger Taylor or John Deacon.

#roleplay #rp request #oc x cc rp #1x1 plot #Queen rp

<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30511416">Lies That Bind</a> (7458 words) by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShySugarWriter">ShySugarWriter</a> Chapters: 9/? Fandom: <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/tags/BioShock%201%20*a*%202%20(Video%20Games)">BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)</a> Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Frank Fontaine, Andrew Ryan, Brigid Tenenbaum, Yi Suchong, Bill McDonagh, Atlas (BioShock), Big Daddy (BioShock), Little Sister (BioShock), Spider Splicer (BioShock), Leadhead Splicer (BioShock), Houdini Splicer (BioShock), Grace Holloway (BioShock), Sullivan (BioShock), Reggie (BioShock), Sofia Lamb, Eleanor Lamb Additional Tags: Atlas (BioShock)/OC, Frank Fontaine/Original Female Character - Freeform Summary: Bonnie Sinclair, younger sister of Augustus Sinclair, arrives in Rapture to escape her abusive ex husband. Follow her through her story as she faces new and familiar challenges... maybe even finding love along the way.Note: Bonnie Sinclair is MY original character.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I FINALLY UPDATED MY STORY!

#atlas bioshock #andrew ryan #augustus sinclair #bioshock oc #bioshock #frank fontaine #brigid tenenbaum #sofia lamb

So, I decided to edit my OC’s outfit.

For those who don’t know:

Monique comes from a line of Colombian mythical creatures: she is la madremonte. No, that does not make her “white Isabela” in terms of her abilities.

She can turn into a 50 foot monster and cause unintentional plant life growth wherever she goes. She can also cause mass floods if she gets into a river, along with protecting wildlife from greedy humans.

She’s not well liked in the Encanto, mostly because of Alma before she almost leveled the town, but managed to attract Bruno’s eye. They bonded over their harsh home life and the rumors surrounding them, individually.

#encanto oc #encanto #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal #alma madrigal

Happy birthday, Mirabel! I drew my OC with her because this was originally from an older drawing that was also meant as a birthday thing. NOT A SHIP, I may add because Monique is in her 40’s. The drawing originated from a role play in which Mirabel ends up in present-day New York and Monique takes her in to protect her from the dangers of city-living. The color of the dresses and the background were due to a head canon made by my friend that Mirabel likes strawberries.

#mirabel encanto #encanto oc #oc art #encanto

𝙲𝚊𝚜𝚝:

𝙰𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊𝚜 𝚁𝚊𝚘𝚞𝚕

𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊 𝚊𝚜 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚊

𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚜 𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚎

𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚊𝚜 𝙴𝚛𝚒𝚔/𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚖

𝚂𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜:

𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚐𝚘𝚎

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝙽𝚘 𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗 𝚋𝚢 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚎𝚜 𝙷𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚏 𝚁𝚒𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚐𝚘𝚎

𝙱𝚊𝚌𝚔𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝙸𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗:

𝙵𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚢 𝙾𝙲 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚘’𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢. 𝙼𝚢 𝙾𝙲 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚢𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎. 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚗𝚍, 𝚗𝚘, 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚊 “𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝“ 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚢𝚊𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚘 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚙𝚎𝚘𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚢, 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗. 𝙼𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚜. 𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚗, 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜, 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚘’𝚜. 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝟷𝟻 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙰𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝟷𝟶 𝚋𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜. 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎, 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚜 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝙽𝙰, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚗𝚊𝚒𝚊𝚍, 𝚊 𝚠𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚙𝚑. 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚍. 𝙰𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙱𝚛𝚞𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍. 𝙷𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚏𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚍𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚢 𝚒𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚌𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝙰𝚕𝚖𝚊 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎, 𝚙𝚕𝚞𝚜 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚒𝚕𝚊, 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔.

𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷𝟹 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎.

#encanto #encanto oc #bruno madrigal #bruno madrigal x oc

shysugarwriter

Welp, here’s my work-in-progress:

"https://archiveofourown.org/works/30511416"

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

shysugarwriter

Finally updated! Chapters 1-8 are out! Will continue to post over the summer!

#bioshock oc #atlas bioshock #bioshock #frank fontaine #brigid tenenbaum #sofia lamb #augustus sinclair #eleanor lamb #grace holloway #andrew ryan

leoninekelter

Picrew chain?

@satan-incarnate-666 @welcome-to-crowleys-hellhole @cheese-greater-official

kaijubluu

PLS THIS PICREW IS SO CUTE

tagging @crispyjenkins @detective4blog @clxudtea @thespookiestspooky

detective4blog

THIS PICCREW MY BELOVED

@nio-bee-um @consultingcriminal @hitoshi-toshi @fuzzysoulyt

howldean

OMFG

look at xem!!! lil cottage goth child

@literally every single one of you unironically make this spread like wildfire omfg

cconsummatumestt

!!!

I would die for him immediately

@wonderlandifulcat @battlenix @kurt-nightcrawler @snugglyducklingbrewhouse

snugglyducklingbrewhouse-deacti

I chose pink and bows and frills and I ran with it.

Can I please have tea with this mouse?

@13-taylor-swift @macgyvergf @freddiesaysalright @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @daniellesimagines

crazylittlethingcalledobsession

Ok literally this is the CUTEST Picrew ever 🥰

I want to mother this crow 😭

If you wanna do it, do it. I'm lazy when it comes to tagging.

stephydearestxo

This is the most adorable crow ever.

shysugarwriter

Cutest little picrew I’ve ever used!

Welp, here’s my work-in-progress:

"https://archiveofourown.org/works/30511416"

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

#bioshock oc #bioshock #atlas bioshock #frank fontaine #brigid tenenbaum #sofia lamb #augustus sinclair #eleanor lamb #grace holloway #andrew ryan

Welp, I guess I’ll just start posting BioShock stuff. I’m already writing a fanfic... And no one reads my other stuff.

Guess I’ll start with my OCs:

Bonnie Sinclair:

- Augustus Sinclair’s younger sister.

Mood board

Louise Sinclair:

- Daughter of Bonnie Sinclair and Harry Potter (no, not that one. He’s another OC).

Mood board

Harry Potter:

- Bonnie’s abusive ex husband.

I’d make a mood board for him, but he doesn’t deserve one.

Lucille Rodriguez:

- Sister to Hector Rodriguez. Was left in an orphanage.

Mood board

#bioshock #atlas bioshock #frank fontaine #andrew ryan #sofia lamb #augustus sinclair #brigid tenenbaum #bioshock oc

shysugarwriter

Thank you for those who read my last story, it literally brought me to tears when I got the notifications! Here’s another story! It’s a bit shorter than the last one...

You know the drill!

|

V

Til Death Do We Part

I stare at your lifeless form lying in a pool of crimson; the gash in your shoulder remained quite evident since the silver letter opener was still sticking out of it. Bowing down, I worked my fingers through your damp auburn hair and reminisced about how this could’ve ended differently. The din of fright from the downstairs guests flew about in a frenzy, seeking to contact any authority that might aid in your salvation. They still don’t understand that this day was… inevitable.

You told me that you wanted to leave, so I left the cat… mangled. Her hide was rent, broken bones fractured through the wounds at her joints, and her lovely golden eyes had been carved out by a familiar blade. I took note of your troubled expression when our daughter asked you where her precious “Fluffy” was. Your knees were stained with dirt, sweat dripped down your neck as you explained to her that “Fluffy” was no more. She wept for hours after that, and her tears caused you to stay.

You broke my heart, so I broke your foot. You claimed that you no longer loved me, then I dropped the toaster on your foot. You cried out in agony, stumbling into the wall, unable to feel anything except the overwhelming pain in your crushed foot. I lied to your face, pleading with you to accept my actions as accidental when I had meant harm.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I was not the only one in your heart.

You tore our wedding photo, so I tore your tendons. I spilled olive oil on the marble floor, in a place where you always progressed through during the late evening from your office to the balcony. You wandered down the hall, slipping into a wide stance before howling in distress. I had to pretend to care when you clutched onto me and screamed at an unsuspecting butler for his carelessness. Yes, dear, he really should’ve been more responsible.

You stabbed me in the back, so I did the same. How dare you say that you love her over me?! I sacrificed my life- my soul- to you! You were so willing to toss me to the side for those ocean blue eyes! What about what I did for you? What has she done that could’ve overridden all of the things I’ve done?! I slaved over a hot stove, listened to your every complaint, helped you with your work, stood by you through thick and thin, I even gave you a daughter!

Ah, but you never cared once for my heart. Sitting in a worn, wooden chair as hundreds of eyes stare me down, anticipating my next move. My hands still smelled of you when I brought them close to my nose. I had washed and bleached my fingers, but your scent remained. The man in the black with bold, white curls sized me up, “How do you plead?” I smiled to myself as I simply replied, “Til death do we part.”

Here’s more dark, depressing poetry about my mental health! I usually write stuff that other people usually wouldn’t feel comfortable putting down into words. Please read my other poems and short stories!

|

V

Ocean

Drowning beneath the surface,

Thinking, “What did I do to deserve this?”

The water swallows my lungs and I can’t breathe,

It’s hard to believe that I trusted her.

I expressed my pain and she mocked me,

Saying, “It’s all in your head, stop being so dramatic!”

A brand new set of cuffs appeared above my feet,

Around my throat and yanked me backwards.

Her words continued to add links to my heart and soul,

As the clear liquid seeped down my throat and loshed about in my stomach.

The chains bound to the ball softly clanked around my ankles,

And proceeded to pull me beneath the Ocean.

#original poem #poetry #dark poem #depression #mockery #emotions #mental health

shysugarwriter

This is my first story to publish on this site. I want to at least get somewhat of a fan base before I start a Patreon. My parents are struggling right now, and I want to help them anyway I can.

Scroll down please <3

|

V

Beautiful

I stare at the iridescent surface clinging onto the bars of the cell that confines me; my face is tear-stained from the previous gagging, my legs bent in an attempt to hold my torso, and my body… my body gasps for the nutrition but refuses to clutch it in warm arms. The mirror reaches its talons out as it speaks to me, “What an eyesore,” it begins, “Why can’t you be beautiful?” My aching heart pounds against my ribs at that word; “Beautiful” I’ve longed to hear that vocable from someone who truly cared.

The mirror tilts its head and beckons me forward, “Come, monstrosity, embrace your future beauty! Isn’t it wondrous?” My shaking honey eyes lift from their position on the shimmering floor only to see a skeleton bearing into my irises. She was not blithe like the mirror had fibbed to me, she was swaying and appeared to be close to collapsing. “I don’t want to die…” her voice gurgled and shook, forcing her to sway faster until she threw herself onto her knees. Why would I want this, I questioned myself, must I continue to harm myself till death?

The gold rose cage door clicked open from behind me I turned around to see an all-too-familiar figure holding out his hand. Is it not amazing how one little look can make my shoulders drop from their once tense condition of insecurity to one of competence? I still could not believe that he would continue to take the time to see such an unlovely, feathered creature shrouded in pain and sin every day. The man smiled to see my relaxed figure but slightly frowned at my scrawny image.

Perhaps, I contemplated, he finds me as an abomination? Tears sprang into my quivering eyes, soon, the man realized my misconception and smiled once more and attempted to switch the ghastly subject which had burned into my fragile mind. “Why don’t you ever stretch your wings?” His grin faltered for a moment noticing my terrified expression. He sighed and reached into my corral, carrying me out.

“Oh, little canary, what have you done to yourself?” I peeked an eye from behind my right mosaic red and white wing to look at the shadowed figure. He plopped me down onto a velvet cushion and began searching for a mortar. I, of all Mosaic Canaries, knew that he was the only human who felt responsible for my well being. Any other would have dodged my cage and wandered straight towards the more prepossessing animals.

Loretta, a Parakeet, stuck her large beak through the bars of the pen next to mine and had begun to taunt me, “Why isn’t it Vivette? Who let the rodent loose?” She boisterously squawked. I knew the glittering, daffodil pigmented Parakeet meant to cause my incapacitated heart harm. My purple soul cornered my locutions and pressured them into an overflowing bottle of hushed sentiments that were pressing their scarred hands against the fractured glass. The panic held itself captive in my unsettled abdomen my quaking breath drew ragged as my swallowed agony rose to my throat, forcing its way out in a silent scream that not even I could hear!

Everything came to a sudden halt; the man had returned, but with a silver bowl filled with bijou pellets. A little girl, begging the age of six, peeked her head out and smiled at me. Me. As if I was the only being that could change the very course of her shifting, benevolent life. The girl stood at about three feet tall, mangled black hair that was hanging into two messy pigtails, and the hem of her overall skirt hung roughly below her knees. But nothing she wore matched the hopeful and innocent emerald eyes staring into my beating heart.

“What about that one!?” The little girl tugged on the man’s sleeve all the while bouncing joyously on the balls of her feet and oddly pointing at my nervous figure. He smiled, striding over to my feathery image and placed the dish on the birch stand. I attempted to leap from my placement on the pillow only to plop face down onto the wooden surface beneath me earning a few giggles from the birds behind me.

Gosh, Vivette, can’t you do anything right?! My mind cried in a rage at yet another mishap caused by my incompetence. The green-eyed girl tilted her head quizzically before stepping forward to fix my estranged position. She dusted me off only to notice my visible rib cage and pounding heart stretching out of a thin layer of tarnished flesh conveyed beneath a short cloak of feathers. My pupils derived the girl’s features more carefully; black rings hung below her eyelids, and her bony fingers were practically seamed together, but what captured my attention was that she appeared much older than she was just mere moments ago.

“Ana and Mia got to you too.” She shut her eyes and quietly sighed. She knows the twins all too well, her sunken eyes swallowed the doubt in my mind. After a few minutes had passed, she began again, “It gets better, little bird, all you have to do is love yourself.” I thought back to the very first time that I was called ‘ugly’; the bloodied screeches from my mother, the irate howls flushing out of my father’s beak, and the vast darkness cascading my vision which harbor me unconscious another day.

The memories from that heinous night flooded to my glued heart and wrapped it up in weighted chains. Now was no time to recall the past, I have to let go of the shrouded pain that haunts me in every dream to every nightmare. Some time, when I had lost myself in my thoughts, the man had opened the window and turned to me. I shifted my head slightly to the left, after bringing myself back to reality. “What are you doing?” My question was answered silently by a single look from the little girl. I hesitantly flexed my wings and swiftly took off into the sunset, with a single word begging the little girl’s voice, “Beautiful…”.

Okay, this took a while, but this is a story that revolves around my own mental health. This is the first time that I’ve written a story about my depression, aside from my poetry that is.

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V

The Tree Next To The Ocean

The chilling water ushers a shell of a body that once was mine to the beaches of my mind. The salty air is thick enough to bring the senses back to any deceased man. My heavy eyelids flutter open to view an endless, starry night sky stamped with delicate crystals of bottled up sorrow. The pain of my reality set in as I set my hazel eyes on the tree. The tree next to the ocean. My only sanctuary from the chains that bound my ankles to the sea.

I raised myself up with the strain of the weight of what felt like the world upon my shoulders. Every trembling stride made the chains clatter wearily that one day I might not ever make it there. The wind howled in my ears, beckoning me to return to the ocean. Be it my stubbornness or the thought of hope trickling through my fingers, I pressed forward.

The tree was what many a soul would claim to be “majestic”, but I perceived it as a safe haven. The lilac hue of the bark was alleviating to the body, but the crystalline teardrops lightly dancing together to develop such calming melodies soothes the mind. The roots struggled to discover stable ground, so they peered through the ivory sand to watch the waves. The only item that was peculiar on the tree was the silver pocket watch that dangled from one of the dainty branches. The ticking echo was almost ominous to any ears who have heard it.

Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…

Though passive in sound, it sends shivers down my spine. But nothing in this plane of existence terrifies me as much as his voice does. Some can call him a friend, although he has never acted like one since the beginning. His pretentious laughter as he mocks my anxieties still causes me to suffocate on my words to this day. He has wrapped my mistakes around his pinky and reminds me of memories that I wish that I could forget.

“Do you remember what you did earlier today?” His voice taunted, “When you wailed at the top of your lungs because you lost control of the situation?”

His frigid breath freezing the attentive hairs on the back of my neck. Tears sprung to my eyes as the memories crushed my throat. Choking on my pride felt heavier than any amount of water that entered my lungs.

I whispered back through tears unshed, “There is a mockingbird in my heart, but a raven in my head. The mockingbird will give out all of the love I could never give to myself. And you, sir, are the raven who lurks deep inside the shadows of my mind, but you will not hold me accountable for a past I cannot amend!”

In all the years since he has made a home in the cobwebs of shattered ambitions and unkept vows, he was motionless. Not a word passed through his lips in his usual cold retorts. It was almost as if he had become smaller than I. As if he was no longer in control of my mentality.

Through all my bitterness, I had not realized that I was standing beneath the tree. The moonlight seeped through the crystalline teardrops and positioned a spotlight on me. I turned around to look my raven in the eyes, so I could tell him that any further association could wait until later, but… his beady, midnight eyes looked at peace. I believe this was the first time that we had been on the same page in this never-ending novel of agony.

His black, feathery physique sauntered carefully to my side through the delicate sand. It was the first time I had ever gotten a favorable look at him. For once, I did not perceive him as the monster that plagued my mind, but as a friend was once forgotten. And, perhaps, there was a time when I called him my friend.

He settled down next to me, then stared out towards the ocean. I can’t recall a time where I have ever felt so comfortable next to someone whom I saw as my adversary. The serene aura of the tree draped its weary limbs around him and I. It was days like this that enraptured my mind, ‘How can everything be so still in desperate times such as this?’

The water quietly lapped at the shore as he and I gazed as life passed by before our eyes. The war that waged in my ears had attained a stalemate leaving only the serenity of the air to encircle about us. I sometimes disregard that life will invariably be an uphill crusade to happiness, but I can not grasp the tides to try to avoid the worst that is yet to come. Taking his hand in mine, we settled tiredly beneath the tree next to the ocean.

#mental health #depression #inner demons #original story #short story #my story #pain #struggle

More depressing, dark poetry! I was going to post another story, but I’m still editing at the moment.

Lets go! <3

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V

Tired

I’m tired.

I’m tired of explaining.

I’ve been running towards the finish line of a race that I’ve already won.

To be honest, wasting my breath on that was kind of draining.

When I was younger,

I was happier.

I used to believe that everyday was going to get better,

And that I’d get hurt less.

Then, I got tired.

He seeped through the cracks of my exhaustion,

And made a home there.

Sometimes he comes out to play with my feelings,

But sometimes he’s just tired too.

Then, we’re just sitting under a tree of crystallized tears,

Being tired together.

#tired #original poem #poetry #depression #inner demons #darkness

I also write poetry... it’s still some dark poetry. Don’t think you can get away from the darkness.

Anyway, back to your scheduled writing!

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V

Believe

Breathing,

Beating,

Bursting!

Every dark hallway expands and lingers,

The haven quickly slipping through my fingers.

Black silhouettes mock my pain,

They don’t know what it’s like be in disdain.

My calloused feet can only carry me so far,

Before the tile floor turns to tar.

His claws scrape away every shred of my sanity,

Whispers filling my ears with sheer profanity.

I shake myself hoping to be freed from this nightmare,

His beady brown eyes are more than I can bear!

I wake up and he’s still in my mind,

People don’t believe in what they cannot find.

#poetry #depression #monster #darkness #original poem #fear

Thank you for those who read my last story, it literally brought me to tears when I got the notifications! Here’s another story! It’s a bit shorter than the last one...

You know the drill!

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V

Til Death Do We Part

I stare at your lifeless form lying in a pool of crimson; the gash in your shoulder remained quite evident since the silver letter opener was still sticking out of it. Bowing down, I worked my fingers through your damp auburn hair and reminisced about how this could’ve ended differently. The din of fright from the downstairs guests flew about in a frenzy, seeking to contact any authority that might aid in your salvation. They still don’t understand that this day was… inevitable.

You told me that you wanted to leave, so I left the cat… mangled. Her hide was rent, broken bones fractured through the wounds at her joints, and her lovely golden eyes had been carved out by a familiar blade. I took note of your troubled expression when our daughter asked you where her precious “Fluffy” was. Your knees were stained with dirt, sweat dripped down your neck as you explained to her that “Fluffy” was no more. She wept for hours after that, and her tears caused you to stay.

You broke my heart, so I broke your foot. You claimed that you no longer loved me, then I dropped the toaster on your foot. You cried out in agony, stumbling into the wall, unable to feel anything except the overwhelming pain in your crushed foot. I lied to your face, pleading with you to accept my actions as accidental when I had meant harm.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I was not the only one in your heart.

You tore our wedding photo, so I tore your tendons. I spilled olive oil on the marble floor, in a place where you always progressed through during the late evening from your office to the balcony. You wandered down the hall, slipping into a wide stance before howling in distress. I had to pretend to care when you clutched onto me and screamed at an unsuspecting butler for his carelessness. Yes, dear, he really should’ve been more responsible.

You stabbed me in the back, so I did the same. How dare you say that you love her over me?! I sacrificed my life- my soul- to you! You were so willing to toss me to the side for those ocean blue eyes! What about what I did for you? What has she done that could’ve overridden all of the things I’ve done?! I slaved over a hot stove, listened to your every complaint, helped you with your work, stood by you through thick and thin, I even gave you a daughter!

Ah, but you never cared once for my heart. Sitting in a worn, wooden chair as hundreds of eyes stare me down, anticipating my next move. My hands still smelled of you when I brought them close to my nose. I had washed and bleached my fingers, but your scent remained. The man in the black with bold, white curls sized me up, “How do you plead?” I smiled to myself as I simply replied, “Til death do we part.”

#narcissism #murder #jealousy #short story #sensitive topics #divorce #revenge #brutality #mental health #seek help #rage #original story