Seven Deadly Sins San Francisco deviantMEET
Location: 5th & Folsom in San Francisco, CA When: Saturday, February 18th @ 2:30pm San Francisco deviants! We're headed to 5th and Folsom ( See the map here) to see 's work recreated as a billboard -- his prize for winning the Anarki3000 Seven Deadly Sins contest -- and we want you to join us! On Saturday, February 18th at 2:30 PM, deviants of all ages are invited to come together and see the billboard! We'll gather at the billboard and spend some time meeting and mingling. DeviantART staff will be there to meet fellow deviants and to discuss all things deviantART-related! Around 3:30, we'll head to Yerba Buena Gardens to grab some food and spend time making and sharing art. Don't forget your camera or camera phone to capture the unforgettable memories. We'll also be handing out deviantART swag, so you won't want to miss it! This event is free and open to all deviants. Come for a little bit or stay for a while -- we want to meet you! If you can attend, please RSVP by hitting the 'I want to attend' button below!
But A Beast - Drabble When he arrived, the twilight made his wild eyes glow. The tears spread in drops like dew on his lashes, and sparkled in the oncoming starlight. He gently tapped his short nails on the glass panes set in the door in rapid succession: tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. When they did not come, his anxiety grew until he felt as though it was crushing his lungs and choking his throat; He began to claw at the panes fitting, as he was little but a beast in his predicament. A mighty lion turned wailing kitten was he. At last, they came their black skirts swished as the walked, and their boots clicked on the stone tiles - and opened the door. He tried to seem as dignified as possible, but as soon as they brought him to the kitchen, he gave up, and collapsed on the hand-hooked rug. He showed them the scars where he had carved her name into himself; he was so struck with turmoil that he found himself sick on most days, and today he simply got lucky. His aunts did something they rarely did: they But A Beast - Drabble by McSketcherson
The Witch's Seas: Chapter One"Can you believe what Roderich did for our anniversary? The nerve!" began Elizaveta, throwing open the door. It was a cool day, and the room was full of ladies getting ready to flirt with men for profit. They thickened their eyelashes with lead brushes and went through the tedious process of pulling on dresses. Everyone gave half-hearted gestures and mumbles for the irate woman to continue. Elizaveta sat down on the couch in the corner, opened her mouth to rant and rave for hours and hours and then the window exploded. The screams of the damned came in its wake; everyone screeched, throwing up their arms to shield themselves from the flying shards of glass. Hellfire blazed beyond the broken panes, and in swung in a handsome young devil. He landed squarely on his two feet, but wasted no time, and sprung from his landing, darting around the wash basins and such. "Good morning, ladies!" he whispered loudly, fleeing out the door. The women looked on in bewilderment. The young man di The Witch's Seas: Chapter One by McSketcherson
Captain, That Coat With Those Boots? The trinkets in his golden dreads clink like the coins he covets. He stands high up in the crow's nest, looking out on the glittering tropical waters, his armada coat billowing epically in the gentle wind. His left hand has been replaced with a menacing golden hook, sharp and gleaming wickedly in the burning sunlight. This man, with his too-colorful clothes, overdone stunts, and kidnapping of wenches are only for stereotypical pirates. He made his way out onto the main deck, his boots thunking with each self-assured, self-entitled step. Captain Kirkland put both hands on his hips, and took a deep breath of salty air. There was nothing more peacful, to him, than being out on the ocean, no land in sight or storm on the horizon. Just good old pillaging of spice-carrying merchant ships. "Cap'n?" asked one of the crew. Arthur turned to look at him. "Why are you all dressed up?" The captain looked down at what he wearing. His burgandy armada coat was accented with black and gold e Captain, That Coat With Those Boots? by McSketcherson
The Witch's Seas Prologue Who would have thought that the smithy-brat - so loud, naïve, and cocky would be smart enough to aid in a mutiny? Captain Arthur Kirkland stared down the barrel of a flintlock pistol, and slowly dragged his eyes up to meet the smithy-brat's. They were treacherous and grey, the colorless irises of an albino that shone with the joyous soul of a killer. They were the kind that could strike fear into the hearts of many men and, with Arthur gone, they would. How had the obnoxious, but loyal apprentince of a smith gone from a dedicated soldier to this? The young man's hair, off-white where the moon kissed it and darkening blues where the shadows roamed, whipped about in the night's shallow breath. His thin, pale lips split into a wicked smile, a bloodless slash that cut to the yellowed bone of his teeth. Arthur must have taught him well too well, obviously. Surrounded by his now faithless crew, the captain former captain knew that t The Witch's Seas by McSketcherson
PanicAt what point do you know what pain is? The gutters overflowed as rancid odors flowing through the open window. It was as if the scenery I had never intended for had come, like a sign... perhaps it was a sign. Nonetheless, I sat on the single chair, unsettled by the continuous rain. I had no one, knew no one, was almost no one. I still had a name, a body, a soul with a desire, but I was no less than certain that I wouldn't last too long as a somebody anyway. Convaluting voices, agitating memories that threw my mind around the dark, so much- too much. I needed an escape, urgently. However, with closed spaces I could not even see, I could get nowhere. No one could or would help; only I could hear the screeching, the nails scratching at the chalkboard constantly, the eyeless holes in their bleeding faces. The vexations drummed through my body although the only thing others could hear was that light pitter patter of rain, dropping one by one. It was that simple a sound that tore through me Panic by SimplySimile
AlmostI was born without a mother or a father. I was simply a lingering soul longing for a home, within myself. Yet ironically, though all I ever had was myself, I could never pull out the sense of security and acceptance. Perhaps I was too much for my own self to handle. All I could ever do was cover my face, frail and disillusioned, peeking through the slits of my fingers, questioning my existence. Growing up, the world appeared to be no more than a facade of a paradise. I saw nothing, but the residue of gun powder. The night swallowing up the eternity as if the flames had been blown away like a candle. A dying, flickering light, so close, yet so distant. Bound against me was my only tightening grasp on passive-aggressive love. A scarf. That was all. Nonetheless, it was always enough to hold me back and warm me up when I needed it in my solitary and barren land of dry mist, lashing against my face, punishing me for what I did or thought wrong, taking the place of the mother whom I'd never Almost by SimplySimile