So, I'm not really too active on here anymore. I still lurk (I love everyone I follow to death) but I don't post my stuff here so much. Instead, you can find me on ao3 (Tokyo_the_Glaive).
A Love StoryOnce upon a time, a servant fell in love with a prince. He was handsome and clever and cruel, and she loved the way he spoke to her when they were alone. He did not court her in any traditional sense, though he promised so much with the curl of his lips and the lightness of his touch. He made her feel as if she were already the princess her promised her she would soon become.A Love Story by CrimsonVendetta
And then he disgraced the servant, humiliating her by bragging of his deception shortly before marrying a pretty noblewoman. The servant wept. She loved him. He did not love her.
But this is a fairytale (as anything that begins with 'Once upon a time' must be), and convention dictates that this story cannot end here. It cannot end with the servant suffering a miscarriage and living out her days alone. By the same token, it cannot end with her decision to walk away herself, to have her child and be a single mother and suffer and love and find happiness. So long
The Orphanage of St. MatthiasAn orphan was six years old when he decided that he was going to conquer the empire. He was a willful boy, clever and quick, who feared nothing. His eyes and hair were dark but his skin was pale: he appeared identical to every other child in the whole of the glorious Lancastrian Empire, land of the richest palaces and the filthiest poorhouses.The Orphanage of St. Matthias by CrimsonVendetta
But this orphan boy was not every other child in Lancaster. He was determined to make himself the ruler of them all, and nothing and no one was going to stay in his way for long.
The nuns in the orphanage called him Jake. He hated the name; he asked to be called Alexander, after the Macedonian conqueror. The nuns politely refused and went on their way.
The orphan known unwillingly as Jake had few friends in the orphanage. They were all rowdy, boisterous children, just as unable to be tamed by the elderly nuns as the nuns were unwilling to tame them. They played on and on without minding their studies, without listening, without watching. The year
Building Block-adesThe trouble with having no inspiration, Kasey thought, is that you want to get something done, and try though you might, nothing happens.Building Block-ades by CrimsonVendetta
His desk was a shambles of books, pens, cards, headphones, rulers, and stacks of paper. The few spots of wood that could be seen between the rubbish were all covered with a thin layer of grime. His printer was out of ink, and the flashing indicator light was giving him a headache, as was his computer's psychedelic screen saver.
It was too early in the day for this, Kasey decided, staring dejectedly at the mess he faced. It was too early to be faced with no ideas and no way out. He had homework to do, sure, but that was a constant. He wanted to do something special, something artsy, but the one day he got up the guts to get out his supplies, the inspiration abandoned him, leaving him looking like a messy idiot.
A few hours later saw him cleaning up his mess with a skulky look on his face.
The Brightest LightsShe hadn't slept in two days.The Brightest Lights by CrimsonVendetta
The chart was simple: chronic insomniac, on medication, referred to the ED four times in the past two months by her primary care physician; not a smoker, no drugs, didn't drink, no anxiety or bipolar disorder, in no physical pain.
Except this time. This time, she hadn't slept in two days, and she had a raging headache. Had to be driven in on the bus because she couldn't see straight, and the hallucinations were getting ready to roll.
The toxicology report was clean; there was nothing in her system. She just couldn't sleep.
She was in the waiting room for forty-five minutes while a room was prepped for the customary exam. She watched the minute hand of the clock inch ever forward, tick after tick after tick after tick, thought she saw it jump once, then again, widdershins. Listened gravely to the man next to her who said his bellybutton had moved.
Now, there was a lunatic. He was a diagnosed
Current Residence: The Land of Procrastination|
Operating System: Mac OS X
MP3 player of choice: Black iPod
Personal Quote: "I don't care what you are doing, so much as the idiotic way you are doing it."