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Storybook WonderlandA strange Wonderland,
Comprised of the breaking reality.
What’s here is now,
A lonely child’s domain.
A sky a vibrant hue,
A bright world free of strife.
Something comprised with wonders alone,
By the enigmatic girl,
Stands here untouched.
A storybook land,
Her fascination birthing its existence.
The Cheshire girl,
Seeks the missing residents,
Of a storybook Wonderland.
“Madness and paradox,
Reality and dreamscape,
It collides in the borders,
Colliding with Fiction.
Here in Wonderland,
Will be a domain for two…
Maybe an endless amount!”
A lonely Cheshire’s madness,
Reigns ultimately here.
Anomaly or Paradox,
Fantasy and Reality,
It’s all the same now.
Like a fairytale,
Or a lucid dream…
“Would one even know,
If this is Reality,
Or a Dream?
One’d be aware.
Cheshire’s lost track,
Some Character TriviaOnia:
~The bizarre pronouncation of Onia's name does not match its spelling, often leading to other RPers calling her 'Onya' rather than the proper "O-Nye-Uh."
~In more personal works, I've developed of a habit of referring to her as the "Broken Alice" as a reference her mental state and the major influence of 'Alice' on her visual design.
~Onia's first outfit prior to the timeskip was slightly reminiscent to the Eastern 'Alice.'
~The second outfit is a more blatant reference and focused on the more widely-known concept.
~Onia is the first character that has actually developed so far that I am sometimes literally stumped in how to have her react to a situation.
~Though it doesn't look like it, Onia's mental state is still on the verge, but Onia is the type that doesn't like to burden others with her own despair.
~It's pretty much in collective agreement that if Zyntar or Otaryn were to die, Onia's mentality would entirely break, though the results following are unknown.
DreamerWhen I was very young,
I dreamed of distant lands.
My brother and I,
Made everything a game.
The boundaries of my mind,
Were limitless and holding open gates,
To vibrant new worlds.
I learned that reality was just as beautiful,
Though cruel as well,
And the crystal clear images piled further.
To endlessly convey those thoughts,
Through the power of my words,
Is the wish I’ve forever held,
Deep inside my heart.
I am a Dreamer,
The borders of Fantasy and Reality,
Gently meeting with bounded seams.
A vibrancy of sight,
A brightness of emotion,
And clarity born of strife and aspiration.
For Lucy: Apparition in the Gray RainThe world is bleak,
And colored only in
Stains of gray.
It wasn't this way before,
but without you,
All I can see is this bleak,
Our hearts had intertwined,
And our emotions were connected deeply.
I felt I could always be happy.
Though my world was always gray,
You had been the one to light it with vivid reflections of color.
The box in my pocket,
It's tiny, but it feels so heavy.
My tears won't cease their flow.
I had wanted to spend my life with you,
But you were gone before I could say anything.
Standing here in the rain,
The world looks as bleak as it ever has,
But at least it conceals my tears.
When I start to the house,
I swear I see something strangely familiar.
A figure of white,
But there is something warm in that familiar expression.
A soft reassurance,
From the one I thought I'd never see.
Our hands connect for the final time,
And we dance in this bleak, silver rain,
But to me, it's so bright,
Until you leave my side.
My tears are falling more than t
Requiem for a Fool's Dream and a Deluded Reality"Is this your indiscriminate justice? Your deluded judgement? Then it is a Fate I refuse to succumb to..."
The countless days that pass
Bare only images of blood and treachery.
I, who seeks only a sense of Peace,
Bends farther under the weight of each recurring tragedy,
Only baring a broken smile and standing once again.
For a world tainted by Hatred and Sadness,
I try to pave a path for Happiness and Peace.
Again and again, I break through the chains of the Pain and Treachery.
"Is it only I, whom is deluded?"
Stained by blood so thoroughly that my form is wracked with Pain,
I still refuse to fall and speak the countless words I want to reach...
Yet this world is too full of those who live only to be alive,
Too full of those who grip their ears and clench their eyes shut.
The few that open their eyes and listen,
Are the ones that are cleaved apart.
"Is this what one would call Reality?"
One by one,
The brave fall to ignorant masses that gather closer.
In the End,
It is only Fear and Ma
Colors of the SoulFloods of color spill around
Emanating with sadness and with joy
I find myself here today
Watching all the color fill the sky
Painting hearts with fleeting shades
Azure within our hearts for pain that we endure
Yellow in our hearts for the happiness that makes us shine
Just how far does it all extend?
That which creates beauty
Is the root of that which destroys it
That which brings our sadness
Is the same as that which gives us hope
And round-about are we
The people on this Earth
The colors that we etch within our hearts
That bleed within the sky
Are the reflection of our souls
That go unseen forevermore
Lost in Time
Lost Within the EveningThe tick-tock of the evening's natural clock
Seems to signal the end of something
As a foreboding sign
I, who held blindly to you
Knew nothing of the world around me
Before I even came to know it
I couldn't see anything at all except for the darkness
You, who was always by my side
Are no longer where I can see you
I can't grasp your hand at all
Or make out your silhouette
Tears and a faint singing voice
Mix together with tinges of fear
Now, I'll call out hopelessly for you
Whom I have lost somewhere behind
These few I have led with me
Their numbers dwindle as they're swallowed by death
Cries will not return them to my side
I must be brave now
I must be a Leader
Their tears and my own
Mingle and create an azure hue of sadness
But all that I can see
Are the distorted figures of red and black
That move now before my green eyes
Here alone, I must try to become an adult
Those who's lives are on my shoulders
Their numbers dwindle and heart only shatters more as they go
I, who lon
Another Writing MemeCongratulation! Your characters have won a free trip to this super special awesome place! There is no way this trip could go wrong... or is it?
- Pick 10 of your OCs in any order. If you don’t have 10 characters use canon or borrow your friends's charies, whatever!
- Don't look at the questions while picking the characters!
- Link back to the blank.
- Have fun!
PICK YOUR VIC... er, I mean WINNERS!
1. Karun Yunatsu
2. Lucy Winters
3. Ravare Udel
4. Rachelle Linet
1. First, , do you have any statements before depart?
Arzium: Where are we going?~
2. Rejoice! You guys will travel on this scary looking train! Cool isn't it? Does  have any problem with this choice of transportation?
Rose: Scary? It does not bother me at all....~Cants head~
3. We are about to start! But  and  delay the depart time by show up late together. What are their reasons?
Ako: I got lost~
Onia: I couldn't find her anyway..
TreasureThe sun seems bright today
And is dotting everything in gold
Here in the trees
I can feel a cool breeze sweeping by
As I close my eyes
I can see you all there...
My feelings of lonliness and sadness
Melt away and are carried away from me
Your arms holding me
Are warm and block out all the cold
I'm not scared anymore
Because you are here with me
Once again I understand
What love is
You all have taught me this
And so much more
I'll never be all alone again
Not with you here, my closest friends and family
I'm learning with all my might
So that one day
I will be strong like you all have taught me
Things once fleeting
That now burn within my heart
That is my treasure
That I'll always hold close
cosmic lattesmall town diner jukebox
casts 90's pop songs on a loop
across creaking hardwood
and paisley-print cushions;
there's a mustard stain
on the waitress's checkerboard apron,
a run in her hose
and fingernail polish flaking like dandruff
into the burly corner booth truck driver's
scrambled egg whites and hash, hold the salt.
if this were wednesday, the perky brunette
would be disheveled, sobbing
into her on-again off-again's embroidered handkerchief
while your food waits, forgotten, in the window...
but it's thursday and they've made up
and his breath is only slightly tainted by his addictions.
instead, she flits a smirk at you
over the pages of the novel
you hope you're hiding well behind
and fills your cup to sloshing
free of charge.
when you add creamer,
it looks like the universe
opening to you.
The DoubterThe Doubter
One Day Someone Will Come To Doubt You.
He Will Insist!
You Gonna Hate Him For This,
If You Don't Love Him.
He Already Loves You,
He Just Doesn't Know It Yet.
He Will Know, When He Meets You.
For You I Don't Know More,
You Gonna Hate Him,
If You Don't Love Him.
lone wolf is wholesome
as his body is pressed,
pierced, and perforated.
rib cage curls like fingers
as crimson nail polish
paint the tips.
nailed to the wall like game,
sanguine saliva drips
from its snarling lips.
eyes shut tight
as its frame is contorted
like abstract art,
pen his heart in ink
or permanent marker.
knees skinned like a child
his body idle as the soul vibrates
while his inners regurgitate,
morbidity slivers down his legs
white fur stains read by death
as it plays necromancer.
the pack may not walk with you
but the moon hums with the owl orchestra.
your grey specks toying with ivory fur
kissed by red cartilage edges.
fade away as your puzzle
finally becomes wholesome
you feed raw meat to lions,
i feed raw me to liars-
the crowds line-in like
they’re ready to witness
me eat crow feet like i’m lyin’,
but these eyes are tired
of watching the vultures
masquerade as innocent crows
when the flock is called a murder.
and these crimes are unaccounted for
because we don’t realize what they’re killing
are the lion-hearted and eating the carcass,
leaving souls to float in the desert
while frames play bowls to a heartless dessert.
deserted bones tumbling like weeds
in the dead glass,
and lightning doesn’t strike
in the same place twice,
so don’t expect quartz here.
the law of living has no courts here
and karma is no judge
because there are no sentences
being placed on the objects
that subject you to the adjective of their
their words unnecessary,
excessive when the circle has begun.
wing disks spinning, dizzying,
dazzling, dying down
through dirt tolls
because we all have to pay
Writer's AuraWhat would you say if I told you that paper had an aura?
The interesting thing about it is that I’m telling half the truth.
Paper can only have an aura when it’s in someone’s hands
And being recited by the very person that wrote it.
The aura of the paper comes from the person, strengthening the sheet’s purpose.
Strengthening the person.
But how, you might ask?
How can a person give a flimsy object like paper an aura?
I have done so several times, so I shall tell you.
The people-those like me-that can do this are called Writers.
Every word-every letter-from a Writer’s hand that falls onto the paper…
It has its own life.
Losing one letter can make an entire story unravel.
Make a poem’s meaning drop.
Make a sheet of paper…meaningless.
And by extension, for that moment, the Writer’s life means nothing.
A small mistake, however, isn’t as large a mockery to us as a blank, white sheet of paper.
Both it and the Writer cry out, begging
A StoryLovely features rest
In a crystalized tomb
Adorned in roaming ivy
Locked in silver moonlight
Approaches handsome figure
With weary leather boots
Having rode his way there
Searching for treasures to loot
Coming to the crossroads
The two strangers meet
One forever locked in
Curse's dreamless sleep
Figure draws near
Pearlescent glass gleams
Stretching out his hand
He sees the beauty skin-deep
Instead of acting as a story
A fairytale kept in time
The figure walks away
Deciding corpses should be kept
Out of the sunlight
+my mother always told me
to make good choices
and although she tried to teach me
i never learned the difference
between good choices and easy ones
and i think that’s why i’m still here,
because most days it’s harder to think about
what my mother would say at my funeral
than it is to keep breathing
obsessionand i know i shouldn't
but when the smoke hits my lungs
and the goosebumps
drape over my skin
because the taste
of this blood
and the touch
of these fingers
feel just as soft.
War ZoneThe bright flashes overwhelm.
Ash scatters like wind.
I walk a path so paved with dark.
Though I take my beloved's hand,
There's no telling when I'll depart.
A Life of hiding long ago ended.
A Life of fighting has already begun.
Licks against the sky.
Blue is brought to Black,
And Peace is burned to Wrath.
I feel no Fear,
And seek only an End.
I won't involve those I love.
I wish them the least of danger.
My return is my Promise,
Despite all risks.
This Life is one,
I wish to return to.
This War will end one day.
I know this.
Ash black clouds will signal the end.
Victory will only be signaled by our return.
The chimes of those voices that I know as those I love,
Echo back a hundred times.
It's like a calling of what I've come to know.
Bright flashes overwhelm.
Ash scatters like the wind.
When Black is brought to Blue,
And Wrath is lightened to Peace,
I Promise I'll still stand.
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More