|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
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.
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.
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 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
SprinklesThe year was any number, real or imaginary, and though the city had a name, it was always called something else. It was a holiday, though just what holiday, no one knew. Men and women in masks danced ignorantly across streets and bridges to joyous songs that repeated endlessly. There was laughter and food, a great deal of wine, and color, such glorious colors, on every corner.
There was also a boat in the water, a boat among all of the other boats. Small, this boat was neither painted nor gilded, nor ornamented in any way, and that made it very different indeed.
Though the crowd did not care to examine the strange boat, it was under constant observation: a cat, black with a healthy sprinkling of lone white hairs, followed the boat until it came to rest. An orphan boy, a friend of the cat, followed the animal and so was the first to see what it carried.
The orphan boy and the sprinkled cat watched, at a distance, as the occupants st
Forms of GuiltServices were being held in the Mainal Cathedral. That in and of itself wasn't a strange thing, Volke supposed. He had returned from the city to conduct a few pieces of business, and now he was observing his current contractor. Volke needed to know more about him, needed more information. It was standard protocol.
Ike was seated in the pews, a strange, taut look on his face as if he were restraining a great emotion. His hands were clenched into tight balls on his knees, and his weapons were nowhere in sight. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have cleaned himself up a bit: he was wearing his least frayed set of clothes, with the nicest shoes. At least, from a distance, they looked half decent.
Volke heard the footsteps, but their maker was harmless, so he did not move. "Are you here for the prayer service?" the footstep-maker asked. He was an elderly man, a bishop, likely.
Bottoms UpThe Seven Deadly Sins.
Lately, they're a terribly romantic concept. It seems like everyone and their brother, plus their brother's third cousin twice removed, has tried to tell a story based around the Sins. Few people know about the Seven Heavenly Virtues, the Sins' counterparts, and of those people, even fewer can name them all. No, the Seven Deadly Sins are à la mode at the moment, as it were.
I guess it doesn't hurt to follow the crowd.
I'm here to tell you a story. A story about the Seven Deadly Sins, but mostly about Wrath, because Wrath is terrible and directionless, and when those two features are put together, something akin to emotional Armageddon comes to pass and the being unfortunate enough to have felt Wrath's wrath is wiped out, physically, mentally, psychologically, physiologically--you name it, it's spent.
You might have heard of me before. If you haven't, I'm not naming names, including my own. Tha
The Stars AboveEliwood couldn't sleep.
He tossed and turned, tried lying on his stomach and on his back alternatively, flipped his makeshift pillow around and pummeled it, but it was all to no avail. It had been dark for a long time, and he knew that sunrise must be on its way. Their army had no use for clocks: they traveled by day and rested by night, without any idea of the time. Calendars, of course, were of use, but not watches or clocks, and Eliwood didn't know of anyone who had thought to bring one along. In short, he didn't know how long he had been trying to sleep, or how long he would have to wait until the rest of the army rose.
Disgruntled, Eliwood sat up and held his head in his hand. Across the tent, Hector was snoring something atrocious. Even if he had been able to sleep under normal circumstances, no one could possible sleep with that dull roar in their ears. Eliwood privately thought that it was a miracle that Hector slept through it at all.
He dressed in the dark, with neither match
Packing Up the PastThe day after the battle at the Shrine of Seals was bright and clear. Nino could not see a single cloud in the sky in all directions, and a slight breeze kept the air from becoming stale. In short, by appearances, it was a perfect day.
Nino was out walking, alone, as she had taken to doing ever since she had decided to tag along with Eliwood's army. Though she was never truly "alone"-Jaffar always followed, at a distance and out of sight, for her safety-those walks were the only moments that Nino had to reconcile her feelings. She still remembered listening to Prince Zephiel's prayer through the crack in the door with Jaffar on the night she had been sent on her first and only mission, as an assassin; the first of her farewells to the life she had known. She was still grateful to Jaffar for turning on the Black Fang for her. She shuddered at the thought of what would have transpired at the castle had she not been sent along.
Of course, she knew why she had been sent: she was to assassi
OxygenI stared at the photograph long after you were gone. I didn't know what I should have said or done; I just sat there, staring, waiting. When you didn't come back into the room, I realized that you never would. You were gone; farther away already than you'd ever been before.
I thought about chasing you, but realized the folly. After all, I didn't even know where you'd gone, or if you'd ever be back. How was I supposed to know that the answer was never, you were never going to return to me?
I waited for you. I heard about you on the TV and in the papers and on the Internet, but you never looked the same as when you did with me. Your hair could never be tamed like those handlers of yours forced it to be, and you never had that dull look in your eyes, and you never, ever, spoke in that sort of uncaring monotone. Not with me, anyway. I didn't understand how you could do that.
So I did what you told me you'd done. I went to Japan and climbed Mount Fuji without permission. Got on a plane, fle
your smile used to be bright. | kaneki ken
Why̴ ͢įs ̡t͠h̵e ͠wo̴r͘ld͡ ̨so̢ ̨c͞r͞uel?
"Are you worried about him?" He — Banjou, if you remember his name correctly — asks as he rests a hand on your right shoulder. You decide not to respond to him and continued to stay silent. Of course, you were worried about him. You were just about worried as everyone here in the cafe. "There's no need to be worried, though. Kaneki is a strong guy. I'm sure he'll make it. We'll save him, too. I promise." He says, trying his best to reassure you with a smile.
"Is it a promise you can keep?" You questioned, your voice mellow. "Promises are meant to be broken, you know."
"I don't break my promises." He says.
"Okay." You're not sure if you trusted him or not — because once you give someone your utmost trust, they'll betray you and throw you away. You'll be forgotten, and you'll be all alone again. Giving your trust to someone else is difficult and pa
You didn't even perform an autopsyYou placed me in the bed of a sarcophagus.
I asked, "Isn't this where you put dead people?"
"Then why am I here?"
"You're dead, of course."
ExpressionShe made a face, which she turned and showed to him. "Hey, what do you think?"
He looked at it. "That's great! I've only got a few mouths. Here," he said, and gave her a smile.
She examined it closely. "It's much better than mine," she said, her voice barely audible. Her own smile was a weak, tremulous thing, as fragile as a dream upon waking and as brittle as a partially healed heart.
He wrapped his arm around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "We're working on that, love. These things take time."
"I know," she said in a voice as soft as falling snow. She stood there staring at the figure they had made, and thought of things long since lost, and how she wished she could take comfort from the strength of his arms.
amorei picked my heart up off the floor
times before giving in to shattered-glass arteries and a fragile state of mind.
nothing went right
until constellations rained from heavens and made angels with their teeth. their goddess stepped forward until i could taste her on my tongue. she leaned into me and whispered
"you are loved"
then fell into my mouth like raindrops off of leaves and melted into me.
heart in hands,
i cradle myself for the eighth time...
through kaleidoscope eyes,
i can tell that she will be my last.
Plead"You are not the man you seem to be."
The quiver of a voice. His words are ghosts in a frozen prison.
"You are not the man you seem to be, and you make the angels weep."
His palms reaching toward the ceiling, down on his knees, he implores a Lord he's never seen.
"You make your son and his mother cry."
The ice in his blue eyes is trying not to melt. A neon is sizzling. It never worked.
"You are not even the man I've cursed."
He is trembling, his heart forever stuck in ice.
"You don't have to forgive me... no, you don't even have to forgive."
He puts his hands on the floor. The flaps of his coat are tattered wings.
"I'm not asking you to give her back to me..."
Tears start to fall, soft noises of rain on immaculate ground.
"I'm not asking you to save me..."
His thin and delicate fingers are claws, metamorphosis of the innocent destroyer.
"I'm not even asking you to love me."
From his jaws, pours a venom black from all the culpability.
"I'm only asking you to..."
Fangs keep the eu
riverwristsriver wrists curl around my waist and lift me to the sun.
we are sunshine. we are gods. we are warriors.
an earthy love to shatter the ground, we dance among the ocean waves and soar among the cosmos.
High School Romance Challenge“Oh. My GOD, look at that new guy!” Alana’s head rose – barely – from her phone and scanned the cafeteria for the “new guy.” Probably just another 7.5/10, like the ones Stacie usually picked out… But then the swish of earth and turquoise caught her eye, and she couldn’t help but widen them, slightly. Alana quickly re-adopted the attitude: eyes bored, tail curled, elbows on the table and eyes on the phone. She fiddled with the settings a moment longer, making it look like she was scanning her tweets, and then set the phone down and looked up, casually following the new guy with her eyes. Her posture said it all – she was interested. The other girls sagged imperceptibly as they saw their leader had set eyes on him… let them pout. It’s not like they had much of a chance anyways… he was a solid 10, and guys like that only went for girls like her.
The new school was a bit intimidating… Chris wasn’t
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.
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
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More