DarkAutumnWrites
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whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
DarkAutumnWrites
@whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
71 followers 370 following 22 posts
Spare/alt account for my literary musings and gaming adventures. Forever lost in the pages of books and the worlds of games. I'm exploring the art of storytelling, one pixel and paragraph at a time! #WritingInProgress #Bookworm #Gamer #Nintendo
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whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
DarkAutumnWrites @whimsicalwraith.bsky.social · 14d
One of my favourite quotes!
A dark background with a quote from Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and a logo of the Bushwick Book Club. "I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other".
Reposted by DarkAutumnWrites
wolftwinthomas.bsky.social
one lamp on —
I tell the darkness
it can stay
#haiku #poetry
November 30, 2025 at 4:10 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
#AnimeQuotes #BlackButler #CielPhantomhive #Truth
An image of the character Ciel from Black Butler, looking towards the camera with an eye patch on. A quote beneath in white reads "There's nothing more deceiving than an obvious truth" - Ciel Phantomhive Text in the bottom left corner in yellow reads animemotivation.com and @animemotivate at the right hand side.
December 11, 2025 at 11:56 AM
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lightwavers.bsky.social
Oh well
If only part of me hadn’t climbed up
Displaced the body
We could burn

Oh well
If only part of me hadn’t seen the light
Found a truth
We could break the loop

Alas, alas
This winter’s crisp
There’s much to miss
Alas, alas
December 10, 2025 at 4:47 PM
Reposted by DarkAutumnWrites
theduncanmackay.bsky.social
I’ve posted this before but the light was perfect today- a little Victorian cat paw in a brick at the front of the old Norfolk & Norwich Hospital. As this is on the front-facing corner of the main gates, the bricklayer quite clearly put it there on purpose, at a height where children would spot it.
Cat paw print in a red brick wall.
December 10, 2025 at 4:07 PM
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saddletramp1956.bsky.social
Truth!
December 9, 2025 at 6:06 PM
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writeforwellbeing.bsky.social
#TuesdayThoughts
#TuesdayMotivation
#TuesdayTips
writingforwellbeing.co.uk
Roald Dahl quotes: 'A little nonsense now and then, is relished by the wisest men.' 'And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you, because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely of places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it.'
December 9, 2025 at 9:30 PM
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ignorantfairy.bsky.social
faerie with split wings
doomed do wander mortal realms
glamour slowly fades
magic weakened far from home
crystal acorn talisman

* * *

remnant of kinship
glimmering blue in her palms
restored hope at dusk

#tanka #senryu #fae #split #blueskyrelay #poetry #poetrycommunity
December 9, 2025 at 8:12 PM
Reposted by DarkAutumnWrites
lightwavers.bsky.social
Someday soon I’ll sing in tune
Find my soul and mend the wound
Yet right now I’m in reverie
Thinking of all the yous and mes
Drawing scarlet, black and white

After that there’ll be a path
Course corroded through my tries
I’ll follow ‘til my fires fade
Attack the root of pain and haze
December 9, 2025 at 8:40 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
Today's write 🌵

#WriterSky #CreativeWriting #StoryADayKeepsTheBoredomAtBay #Cactus #WildWalkPrompt
White background with black text reading: One moment you're downing another shot of tequila, then the next you're sat debating if the bathroom light is too harsh for your indoor cactus. Blessed Mother, what was she even doing with her life anymore? Clara sighed, the sound muffled by a bright green, fluffy, oversized towel wrapped around her head. She didn't have to debate; the answer was a resounding yes. Those cheap, buzzing fluorescent lights were an environmental, and horticultural, crime. Her poor old Ferocactus - she'd named him Bartholomew - had barely recovered from the fungal gnats he’d acquired after the move, and now to suffer this indignity. Sighing, yet again, gingerly she rose from the edge of the tub, wincing as her knees cracked in quiet protest, a sound she definitely hadn't heard when she was twenty-six and confidently ordering her third round. She pulled the switch cord, plunging the bathroom into a softer, less menacing gloom courtesy of the overhead LED vanity lights. "There, you go Bart. Better?" she murmured to the rotund spiky green ball, which obviously offered absolutely no opinion back. Of course. The sad truth wasn't just the tequila-to-cacti pipeline; it was the sheer, baffling speed of the whole transition. Last month, she'd been convinced she was having a renaissance - a flirtation with a handsome, perpetually unavailable bartender named Leonardo, fuelled by late nights and questionably poor decisions… but, she'd told herself she was spontaneous.
December 9, 2025 at 7:58 PM
Reposted by DarkAutumnWrites
danigracewrites.bsky.social
Her #magenta lips called to him from across the courtyard. He watched as she spoke to her group of friends. He didn't know her yet, but he was going to.

He began a slow approach, then rushed and stole her away at supernatural speed. Those lips screamed. It was the last time anyone saw her.

#vss365
December 7, 2025 at 2:05 PM
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edmondsscanner.bsky.social
Your fortune for today:
Become the creature in the shadows, or the creature in the shadows will be coming for you.
December 7, 2025 at 5:00 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
Today's #QuickWrite

#Storm #Dragon #CreativeWriting #WriterSky #DragonStory
White background with black text reading: As the rain battered down, the great Drake sensed it, Her. He lifted his head skyward expectantly, and shook out his wings in preparation. His anticipation building further as the pressure dropped while he stretched, and raked the soft ground with his talons. His tail twitched, to and fro, as he looked up at the darkening sky, eagerly searching. Tonight, he thought, Tonight, I will catch her. Thunder rumbled low and ominous, the deep growl of a Sky Dragon reverberating through his chest and body, as if in challenge. And it was one he was eager to accept. Suddenly, a bright streak appeared as a fork of lightning cut through the thunder clap, and split the sky apart. There! In a powerful burst of movement he launched himself from the ground, vertically skyward into the air. With his wings outstretched and beating mightily, he pushed himself harder with each downdraft. He threw himself at the streak of static that was dancing within the arc of each lightning burst. The Sky Dragon's Daughter, Thundrah, was his quarry, and her playful, tempestuous spirit responded to his audacious chase not with indifference, but with invitation. The air itself became a living thing, crackling with ozone and the scent of freshly charged rain mingled with wet grass. The wind currents, once a hindrance, now seemed to guide him, pulling him deeper into the very heart of the storm
December 7, 2025 at 1:47 PM
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badlydrawnbears.bsky.social
I want to be the very best but I am very tired xox
December 5, 2025 at 5:35 PM
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wolftwinthomas.bsky.social
ginger tom —
his name known
only to him
#haiku #poetry #caturday
December 6, 2025 at 4:37 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
Today's #QuickWrite 🗡️

#CreativeWriting #ShortProse #WriterSky #BlackSmith #MetalWorking
#AStoryADayKeepsTheBoredomAway
A white background with black text reading: The quenching steam hissed and spat as the twice heated metal was plunged into a dousing bucket. The sharp crescendo of hammer on iron was a sound relentless; yet welcoming. It was the true heartbeat of the Forge.” The Smith pulled the now rapidly cooling steel from the bucket. A momentary hush fell inside the shop, broken only by the rhythmic puff of the bellows, drawing air into the furnace pit. The bucket water, dark and slick with scale and carbon, continued to bubble softly, releasing the last of the captured heat. She ignored the smoke and the dry heat that radiated off the flame pit like a living thing, a captured dragonet. Her eyes, permanently narrowed against the glare of the white-hot iron, focused on the delicate workpiece. A blade, a long, elegant dagger. Its edges clean, and its lines, true. It felt solid and keenly obedient in her tongs, with all the promise of sharp perfection. A knife like this was not meant for cutting bread.This was a tool meant for extraction, whether of information or life, was a choice left entirely to the client.
December 6, 2025 at 12:22 AM
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farahauthor.bsky.social
so hard being softly spoken in this world of foghorn air raid siren loudspeaker dying seagull donkey hee-haw unbearable cacophony voices
December 2, 2025 at 6:34 PM
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kbspangler.com
Me, then: I shall take a quick nap and be refreshed to fight on for the rest of the day!

Me, now, lurching around like a beheaded zombie’s corpse: GOT STUCK IN BLANKETS WHAT YEAR IS THIS AM I IN NARNIA AGAIN?
December 4, 2025 at 8:10 PM
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writeforwellbeing.bsky.social
I am an academic editor in my other life when I’m not teaching writing workshops, so this makes me laugh. (And also to remind authors that a professional editor is worth it.)
Painting of woman in medieval dress looking sad with an open book on her lap, while a kneeling man holds her hand. Caption reads: ‘An Author Mourns their Typo’
December 4, 2025 at 8:38 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
A little longer #QuickWrite today, I wanted to see where it went!

#SpectralMoon #Siren #Mermaids #Folklore #CreativeWriting #WriterSky #SeaStories #StoryADayKeepBoredomAway
Image 1 White background with black text Reading: 04/12/25 The ship lurched and fell through the dark seas’ swell, a pale moon illuminated the deck and foredeck in an ethereal light. He wouldn't be surprised if ghosts arose, and walked… or swam… this night. Sighing, and gripping the salt stained guard rail, as the ship peaked through another trough, he stood, his thumb rubbing absently a smooth knot in the wood as he looked out. He watched, as his breath began to mist, and he faintly heard… a song? “... And, when the Spectral Moon comes a’calling, a'calling...’’ Through the briny darkness came a strong, yet haunting, melody. “... My wayward thoughts, they turn only to you…” Not a gruff sailors tenor, this was like honey on wine. He turned once to look about the deck, but he was the only one to draw the watch tonight, while his men were snoring in their hammocks. The melody grew in tempo, abandoning the slow pace for a quicker, more seductive rhythm. “... So, lay down your anchor, lay down your dread...” “... And sink your warm thoughts inside my cold bed...” Image 2 White background with black text reading: Every note was an answer to a question he hadn't ever known he was asking. The coldness of the deck, the loneliness of his watch, the endless labor against the unforgiving ocean - all felt suddenly unbearable. He didn't just want the promised cold rest; he felt he deserved it. His life had been nothing but salt, wood, and hardship. Why should he fight for another dawn? Somewhere far away, in the back of his mind, he knew what sang, and what its cruel design entailed. It wanted the ship to capsize, and it wanted him. His hand instinctively loosened its grip on the salt-stained rail. The misting of his breath seemed to grow heavier, catching the ephemeral moonlight and forming a shimmering veil between him and the rest of the world. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the song fill his lungs instead of the night sea air. “... Come, to the current, where silence is gold...” “... And let our deep water, the weary one, hold.” His free hand was already lifting up and out toward a sheet rope, ready to pull up and swing his leg over the side. The voice was both everywhere and nowhere. Its source, impossible to pinpoint, and yet he knew if he opened his eyes, he would see it: a flash of iridescent scales, and an impossible shadow in the lunar light. Image 3 White background with black text reading: But then, his thumb, still absently rubbing that smooth knot in the guard rail, found a splinter, with a sharp, sudden intrusion of pain. It was minor, meaningless, yet the unexpected physical sensation was like a spark of fire burning through the smooth current of the song. The pain anchored him, momentarily overriding the honeyed promise floating in his ears. He gasped, a sound lost beneath the swell. Duty. The word was sharp and bitter, utterly lacking the siren's simple sweetness, but it was solid. If he went overboard, the ship would continue without a watch, rudderless, risking his sleeping men. With a grunt that was more strain than effort, he slammed his hand back down onto the rail, gripping the splintered wood until the unholy pull of temptation in his chest was replaced by the throbbing pain in his hand. "Not tonight," he whispered, his voice rough and unused. "Not this watch." He didn't quite trust his feet to move him away. Instead, he dragged his gaze away from the sea and focused on the foremast, to a solid, man-made structure piercing the spectral sky. He needed noise, real noise, the noise of work, and danger. Image 4 White background with black text reading: He staggered back to the binnacle, fumbling for the lanyard of the great ship's bell, and pulled it, hard. The harsh clang shattered the hypnotic melody, painfully loud in the sudden silence. The bell rang out twice more, a waking alarm for a call to deck. The song stopped instantly, replaced by the frantic, muffled sounds of confused and groggy sailors scrambling from their hammocks below. He leaned against the rail, heaving and shaking, as he waited for the righteous anger of the newly-woken crew.
December 4, 2025 at 8:40 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
Another day, another #QuickWrite

#WriteADay #CreativeWriting #WriterSky #Gladiatorial #Spectacle

⚔️ 🛡️ 🎭
A piece of text, white on a black background reads: "03/12/25 They both stood, bloody, radiant. The crowd roared, as the sun beat down on the unfortunates, scattered amongst the arena. Only three remained, and they stood, trembling, in painted wooden armour. A cheap, pale mockery of the full steel splendour that adorned them both. The three had lost their weapons in the chaos, too. Although, not that wooden training daggers, mere props, would've done much against them and their forged plate, not really. And their five comrades were of little further help. The coarse, baked sand had already gorged itself on them, drinking their spilled life with a greedy efficiency. All in all, they would dominate this spectacle, but… he huffed in contempt. A challenge would've been nice.
December 4, 2025 at 12:52 AM
Reposted by DarkAutumnWrites
studiograil.com
Thrilled to announce GRAVE REGRETS - a psychological horror & mystery visual novel. 🪦👁️

Play as a haunted detective. Gather evidence, navigate fragile relationships, and hold onto your sanity. Every choice matters. Will you do the right thing?

store.steampowered.com/app/3161540/

Please repost 🖤
December 3, 2025 at 2:23 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
#BookQuotes #Advice #TheOdssey #Homer #ClassicalLit #BookSky
💙 📚
A black background with a pair of large yellow quote marks at the top, white text that reads "Words empty as the wind are best left unsaid". By Homer. By gracious quotes.com
December 3, 2025 at 6:58 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
My first #QuickWrite

#ShortProse #CreativeWriting #WriterSky #WriteADay
A piece of text, white on a black background reading: "Voices called, and yet here she was. Hidden, still holding on, in the dark undergrowth. But the plants had taken over here, too, since the system had begun to fail. The ominous dark smoke curling up from Server Tower 4 had certainly increased, as of late. No longer just during the afternoon pull of demand, as it had done when Wraith was younger. But, the flowers seemed happier, at least. "Thank goodness for small mercies" she sighed, making herself comfortable.
December 3, 2025 at 1:25 PM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
📈 🔄 🌪️
#Durarara #AntiHeroe #DRRR #AnimeQuote #MakeAChoice
A picture of an anime boy, Orihara Izaya from Durarara, And a quote written to the left of him reading "If you truly want to continue escaping from everyday life, you've no choice but to keep evolving. No matter whether you're aiming higher or lower" from manga-anime-quotes.tumblr.com
December 2, 2025 at 12:40 AM
whimsicalwraith.bsky.social
A collector of things quite #antique,
Found a clock with a curious squeak.
When he wound the old key,
It sang merrily,
Not a loud 'cuckoo!' but 'Peep!'

#Limerick #WriterSky #CreativeWriting
a cuckoo clock with roman numerals and a bird flying around it
Alt: a cuckoo clock with roman numerals and a bird flying out of it on a spring
media.tenor.com
November 30, 2025 at 11:21 PM