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Inivisibilitrix: an Avengers self-insert (1) :iconchen63:chen63 1 0
Mature content
Thgiliwt: It's Twilight, Backwards :iconchen63:chen63 1 2
Literature
Sherlock: Sherlock, Your Benedict is Showing
Lestrade, upon hearing Sherlock's pronouncement, gave John an amused look before thrusting the offending object into Sherlock's arms and simply walking away.
"John. JOHN. What do I do with it?" The usual baritone was suffused with a mild note of panic as the infant woke up, startled by its sudden change in position, and looked up at him, puzzled.
"It's a baby, Sherlock, you just have to hold it," said John, frowning, as Sherlock held it up under the arms to examine it critically. "And it's actually a he, you know."
"Yes, yes, I know its name," he said, turning it around to examine the other side. "Not very interesting." His elbows were bent at odd angles to keep the child aloft, and it made some soft blurbling noises, causing Sherlock to wrinkle his noise and move his arms a little farther away from his body.
"That's not how you're supposed to hold him, you're doing it wrong," said John.
"This is a perfectly fine way! Look, he's happy, he's drooling. See?" He turned the baby back aroun
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Literature
Sensual Exercises: I and II
Swinging
Swinging is joy in rhythm.
The legs stretch and extend, as far as they can go from standstill. They come back and curl up on themselves – as lazily or intensely as you would ever want to go. Nobody judges when you're swinging – or, if they do, at least you can't find it in yourself to care anymore. Your muscles strain against gravity, armed with a seat and rope, and push you farther farther and higher higher into the stratosphere. Your entire body is tense with the effort, to allow your weight further leverage against this will. Dull, glitzy pain flits through your mind – but you're almost there – you reach the crest – briefest relief. Then you're soaring down again, wild wind pulling your hair back over your face. The world is your oyster as you collide with nothing for several glorious counts. Your legs, far from being tired, are re-energized at this sudden burst of joy, and impulsively, you start again.
your toes might have touched the sta
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Literature
Sherlock: Linear Regression
   Sit and tell a story, John.
Bring a detective story and a thermos of tea )two cups(
read it and present it to the judging gravestone
it listens with an ugly sneer
and scoffs at the dialogue
)though he's dead
you can hear his voice(
and you've never heard a silence so wretched
)he demanded it in life;
he would not receive it, even in death,
so help him God(
Bring along an encyclopedia of poisons
list them off to the name engraved
)the man engraved also,
for he himself could never be entombed(
You'll consider them
what they might taste like on your tongue
)probably like dust – as everything else
does(
Consider the impossible things to say
(I you)
or to sign
(you I)
or to symbol
(≠ Ʃ(═?); ÷ ♥);
the arithmetic ends
with a newly-stained entry for
hemlock
You're beginning to break down, John
)fairy tales
are for little children
the ones you see in your office, sick, sad, snotty
why couldn't the book have stayed closed?(
Carry your can
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Literature
Untitled
The hospital is plastic and inorganic as Feliciano steps through the pneumatic doors. A thick woolen coat rests on his body and a thick red scarf is tied snugly around his neck, and his cheeks bloom with the pink color of cold. The strap of his school bag is clutched in one gloved hand, and the other fidgets nervously with anything it can take hold of -- the large buttons, the lining of his pocket, his scarf.
He approaches the front desk and inquires after his friend, and, hearing that he is awake, sighs in relief. The nurse looks tired and harried, so Feliciano does not pause to tell her how glad he is to hear her news, and instead hurries forward to the stairwell, fairly flies up the steps (only the tips of his toes touching each before he propels himself upward, a buouyancy only attributed to him), and skims through the hallways, keeping a sharp eye for the number. He gains so much speed that he eventually flies past the room, and has to double back to check for correctness.
He knoc
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Literature
APH: Auld Lang Syne
[A/N: please be sure to check artist's comments at the bottom!]
Auld Lang Syne
1.
Ivan Braginski did not believe in ghosts.
He was an ordinary, if big, man – a ballet teacher  -- deceptively tall and heavy, with a frown too gentle to be angry and a smile too cold to be happy.
His aunt raised him, along with her daughter. Ivan did not remember why two men and a woman (so key in all of their conjoined lives) were missing. It might have been a war, a sickness, a bottle of whiskey. And it didn't matter to him.
Not much did.
Besides his dancing (his only constant companion), and his cousin and aunt (both loved him very much, and both lived very far away), there was music. Sometimes – he wished he had a talent for it. Sometimes – he'd go into a music store (an abandoned one, where the cashier was miles away with earbuds in and it was only his body keeping him there) and plink away at the keys of a dusty piano, light years away from grand.
He could have bought it.
<i>
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Literature
testing: PrUK: peanut butter cookies
"I thought you were bad at cooking."
"Terrible, really. But I'm honestly not awful at making peanut butter cookies." Arthur caught Gilbert's look and rolled his eyes. "Are you going to help me or not?"
"Yeah, sure, whatever. Should I bring an apron?"
"Probably. And would you mind bringing the chocolate kisses?"
"Is that the only kind of kiss you want me to bring?"
"Don't be an ass." Gilbert smirked.  "Just be at my house tomorrow."
"What time?"
"After lunch some time. I don't know. Just be there."
"Can I take you out to lunch? Just to make sure your kitchen is in a good enough condition for baking. Of course."
"Oh, of course." Arthur swatted Gilbert's arm with the book he had been reading a few minutes earlier. "Well, since you're so concerned about the state of my kitchen, pick me up at the library at eleven thirty, wanker."
"Yes, sir."
*
Since Arthur did not drive (he'd failed the test six consecutive times, to his incredible mortification and despair), it was up to
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Literature
Fairy Godmother
Fairy Godmother, forgive me.
They all died
and the last knight standing before my tower
I guess he was my savior, I trod upon his back first
as I stepped down the human staircase.
I took the hand of the Reaper,
Sir Death he was, encased in scarab armor.
See, he said, touching my cheek with chapped lips,
it's so easy, isn't it.
With all their souls in the sack around my neck
the spirits knotted together to become a chain
the Reaper instead of the tower has me now, Fairy Godmother.
I didn't save myself.
:iconchen63:chen63
:iconchen63:chen63 1 10
Literature
On Editing
     I was asked by your fearless leader (applause here) to write a little sumtin'-sumtin' about the editing process, which drew me to a pause. Editing, to me, has always been, pretty much, my saying: "This is wrong. Fix it." However, your fearless leader's request brought me to the realization that, uh, I should probably back some of this crap up. Dictionaries are generally trustworthy! Let's try one of those! Merriam-Webster defines "edit": as such: "…(c) to alter, adapt, or refine especially to bring about conformity to a standard or to suit a particular purpose." Eh. If Merriam or Webster had bothered to ask my opinion, I would have stated it thusly: "to edit (vb): the art of being an asshole to babies."
     Think about it! That sheaf of papers you're clutching it your ink-spotted and nail-bitten hands is somebody's brainchild. They spent hours birthing and nurturing it, and now you're about to slash it up, draw funny faces on
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Mature content
APH: Scraps vol. I :iconchen63:chen63 0 0
Mature content
APH: Paper Trail B :iconchen63:chen63 47 27
Mature content
APH: Paper Trail A :iconchen63:chen63 40 25
Literature
APH: Prussian Fairytale
Once upon a time, a village near the sea was burned to the ground by an advancing army. The few survivors of this raid made for the mountains in the north and the oceans to the west. None dared to go east, as that was the direction from which their persecutors came, and none went to the forests of the south, as they were holy and forbidden. Bloodied by the swords of the cavalry and seared by their torches, however, three reckless young men sought shelter beneath the blessed branches.
They traveled aimlessly in the forest for four days and four nights, nursing their wounds and catching naïve prey with furtive hands. On the fifth day, they were tracking rabbits in the underbrush when the trail led them to the remains of a crumbled cairn. The youngest man, seeking respite from an afternoon of poor hunting, convinced the other two to pause and help him rebuild it.
As they replaced the last stone on the mound, the ghost of an old priest appeared from behind the rocks and spoke to them.
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Literature
APH: House of Dreams
His dreams are made of the tides that wash upon his rocky beaches. Sometimes, the waters run clear and cold; sometimes, the waves come in choked with the debris of the past and warm with blood. It's impossible to predict or prevent the ocean, so Sweden simply lets the sea bend and twist him (as his nation, he is subject to the whim of the waters), and yet always he trusts it to return him to his starting point.
His dreams are about creating things. First, the tools; and then, using those tools, he builds himself a house, filled with empty rooms and sighs. He sits on the front stoop and looks away and out for something with which to fill the house. Time and matter are constantly rearranging themselves, though, into so many millions of intricate patterns. He merely has to reach out his hand and take the pattern and pour it into the foundations. (He is a country after, all, and these are his dreams.)
The tide comes in and sweeps him away as he waits.
The next time Sweden opens his eyes, t
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Literature
APH: Spring 1992
When China opens the door to a chilly Sunday afternoon, he's not particularly surprised to see Russia standing there, thin cheeks bloody with the cold. It's not the first time, and it's likely not to be the last, so China takes this occasion with more than a little of his usual disdain.
"You look pathetic, aru," he says, folding his hands in his sleeves and taking in his bedraggled neighbor's appearance. "And I am amazed that you dragged yourself out of bed to come and bother me so soon. Half your body collapses and I am still not going to become 'one with Russia.'"
Russia's amethyst eyes (overlarge in their sunken face) blink, as if the thought hadn't even occurred to him. His coat hangs loosely on his slumped shoulders, his shaggy hair has lost any trace of a shine, and one arm is suspended in a sling around his neck. A flat box is cradled against his chest, wrapped in dull paper and a worn ribbon.
"Nyet, I... did not want to ask that of you. Could I... come in?"
"No. You can
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Warning: reading this stuff might give you cavities. :iconlietplz:

Favourites

Francis and Ludwig by CielHargreaves Francis and Ludwig :iconcielhargreaves:CielHargreaves 15 4 Germania by CielHargreaves Germania :iconcielhargreaves:CielHargreaves 14 2 APH: GERMANIA by interFEARia APH: GERMANIA :iconinterfearia:interFEARia 167 44 Rome and Germania by sonic-crazylove Rome and Germania :iconsonic-crazylove:sonic-crazylove 59 7 Holy Roman Empire Teen by skrlt Holy Roman Empire Teen :iconskrlt:skrlt 88 5 Under the same sky by darkn2ght Under the same sky :icondarkn2ght:darkn2ght 755 100 APH: Father's mind by mixed-blessing APH: Father's mind :iconmixed-blessing:mixed-blessing 830 42 APH - Heir of Rome by R-ninja APH - Heir of Rome :iconr-ninja:R-ninja 1,468 125 Holy Roman Empire by Wida-Smashing Holy Roman Empire :iconwida-smashing:Wida-Smashing 102 13 Holy Rome by acqua-alta Holy Rome :iconacqua-alta:acqua-alta 406 81 APH: Look like a dear. by Zieberich APH: Look like a dear. :iconzieberich:Zieberich 119 4 USUK-kiss by LitLoud USUK-kiss :iconlitloud:LitLoud 888 46 APH USUK lineart by maybebaby83 APH USUK lineart :iconmaybebaby83:maybebaby83 324 23 USUK -  for lovers by TechnoRanma USUK - for lovers :icontechnoranma:TechnoRanma 4,985 545 USUK in uniform by maybebaby83 USUK in uniform :iconmaybebaby83:maybebaby83 1,517 50

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deviantID

chen63
chen-ra
Misspelled "seconds" -- too irritated by the concept of "layers" to go back and fix it.

Find me on FanFiction.net: www.fanfiction.net/u/2597086/p… (compendium of my uploaded fanfic)
Find me on Tumblr: [tba]
  • Listening to: the hum of air conditioners
  • Reading: books, so many you wouldn't believe
hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but
READ MY REVERSE TWILIGHT DRABBLE AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK BECAUSE I WANT TO KNOW
REALLY
so call me maybe?

I get back on here and for some reason a lot of people really like "Prussian Fairytale!" Not that I'm unhappy, but... I didn't spend so much time on that. OTL' Try Auld Lang Syne, or Spring 1992? Oh, and some frankly wonderful comments. They made me blush. :heart:

Oh, and Mattel put out a Barbie Dreamhouse webseries. It is amazing, y'all. Look for it on YouTube.

*buzzes off*

(I also gained Game of Thrones as a fandom. Whoops.)

Journal History

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:iconpokeninjagirl:
Pokeninjagirl Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!  :cake:
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:iconpokeninjagirl:
Pokeninjagirl Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday! ^^
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:iconindigoblau:
Indigoblau Featured By Owner Jan 16, 2013  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Happy birthday! :cake: :party:
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:iconshirekat:
Shirekat Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the :+fav: ! :D
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:iconberenini:
Berenini Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2012
Oh dear, thank you for the watch! :hug:
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:iconcobyfrog:
Cobyfrog Featured By Owner Mar 2, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
Thankage for the Watchage~! :heart::iconshaplz:
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:iconsolrsurfr3:
SolrSurfr3 Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2012  Hobbyist Artist
Hey, thanks for watching!
PS: I love your webcam clip. XD
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:iconcapitalia-romi:
Capitalia-Romi Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2012  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Her name is...

Ophelia Prendergast.

Because I said so.
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:iconussspecial:
USSspecial Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2012
Thank you for the fav! c:
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