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Wedding shoes by daddyslittlejanegirl
Wedding shoes
As the title suggests, these are the shoes I will be married in next year. Got the approval from Shannon.
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[re-edited as of 8:36 central time]

Prologue: Endings and Beginnings

1
Two masked figures approached the abandoned hospital on Market Street. Both figures wore black, but while the taller of the two had short hair and wore a birdlike masque with a long beaked nose, covering only the top half of her face, the shorter one had hair that reached halfway down her back and wore a smooth black masque which covered all but the top right corner of her visage. Both were brunettes, but the taller figure had small, but visible breasts, while the shorter was flat as a board. The latter made up for this lack with the weapons she carried, she wore a katana on her back, daggers strapped to each thigh, and two sais hung from her hips. Both were clad in black, but the taller woman wore a tight running shirt and a pair of nylon track pants. The shorter figure wore black tights and a black cotton dress. Sensible black street shoes adorned the feet of both.
What had once been a state of the art hospital in a booming town center was now reduced to a dingy, crumbling husk in a poorly lit, poorly maintained slum. No street cleaner or garbage man ever graced this neighborhood with their business anymore, as was evidenced by the filthy gutters and the rotten smell of decay that filled the air. Twenty years ago this had been the place to be if you were well to do, or even a middle classer. Now it was populated mainly by pimps, drug dealers, squatters, whores, and pickpockets. Occasionally, a high rolling mafioso would swing by in is Mercedes or Royce to dump the body of a traitor held in particular disdain, but that was about all the flash and pomp one could expect from Market Street anymore, and no one would ever admit to being around when that happened. There a lot of fine ways for a man or woman to die, but being a loose end for the mafia to tie up wasn’t one of them.
Masque took a brief moment to scan her surroundings, taking mental note on the similarities this neighborhood bore to her own. There wasn’t a hospital on her block, abandoned or otherwise, but the stench and the trash heaps were both familiar to her.
“Are you sure this is the place?” She whispered to Raven, her mentor, who had accompanied her this evening.
Raven flashed her metallic teeth in an eery smile, pointed at a dimly flickering light emanating from third floor window, and cupped a hand to her ear as a signal for Masque to listen.
Masque glared at Raven, the woman was infuriating! This was one of the reasons she’d chosen to go solo, as soon as that beaked masque went on, Raven refused to communicate like an ordinary human being! All the same, Masque understood the message. She looked up and listened. Sure enough, there was a muffled voice, grating like a rusty knife on concrete, the words hard to make out from this distance. And there was the sound of someone screaming. Or rather, trying to scream, likely with his or her mouth sewn shut. This had to be him. Skull Fuck had indeed come to Tripton.


Decided to add Raven to the story just to make things a little more interesting. Been thinking of revamping the original idea ever since I got feedback from my writer group. That's all.

S.D.
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Reading: Spawn: The Endgame Collection
  • Watching: WWE Summer Slam 2014
My ride home from Clinton today proved beyond doubt that Primal is still around. Hadn't felt it much since my grandfather's passing, so I hoped I'd managed to slip it while grieving. Nope. Just dormant again. It threw quite a tantrum in the car. Been having some stress problems, as last night's journal indicated. I was meeting with Laura Booker of IDHS today, she asked me why I was considering the path of being a Pastor. Why do job counselors always get that incredulous "what are you thinking?" look in their eyes when I tell them that? It's in their voice as well and I never get the feeling that my explanation ever fully satisfies them. I think that might be part of what set the Primal off. But it's really hard to say, anger is a very complicated emotion, and anger is essentially what Primal is composed of; anger and a lust for violence. I'm just glad it stays dormant much longer than it used to prior to 2010.

As for the good news portion: I have been told by my friend Dan that I am the first person being accepted for this year's SOKM class. I've been stressing over that for most of the summer. I wish I could say getting that news has made me entirely stress free for awhile, but unfortunately kiddos, life is a lot more complicated than that. Getting a job didn't take care of my stress and this hasn't either. It's made the load slightly less heavy, to be sure, but there's still plenty of other stresses I'm struggling to overcome. The grace of God, my heavenly Father, helps me to bear it without giving any serious thoughts to suicide, but my autism, adhd, upcoming wedding, and residual DID, in addition to the cultural disadvantages of being a girly male still give me plenty of anxiety. I'm going strong, to be sure, but the thing about strength is that it is always being tested internally and externally.
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Listening to: Rise Against: Hero of War
  • Reading: Two Cheers For Anarchism
I really miss having more folk like me to hang with. Just played with a match to calm myself. Didn't help and now my room smells like sulfur. Had a slight urge to cut myself or burn myself to deal with the loneliness. Did not do either. I really should go to bed, that's likely part of my problem.

S.D.
  • Mood: Lonely
  • Reading: Two Cheers For Anarchism
  • Watching: Home Alone
My dad's dad died. I actually like my dad now, have for a while, but I'm still not very close to him and probably never will be. But I was very close to my Grandpa Cox. A week ago today I was in the hospital waiting for him to recover from his heart surgery. He never did. He never woke up. Funeral was on Saturday, I took the day off work to go to it. And yeah, by the way, the day after he died I was called into an orientation at Lincoln's Challenge in Rantoul, where, the following day, I had my first shift as a dishwasher. I work Thursdays and Fridays from 6:25 am to 12:55 pm, Saturdays and Sundays from 12:55 to 7:30.

Back to my grandpa's funeral. Went pretty good, as far as funerals go, though there was some breaking down from friends and family, myself included. Toward the end, though, the empty-headed pastor Jim Vance (acquaintance of my grandfather's) had insisted on decided he'd toot his horn by giving a Sunday morning-esque sermon that barely mentioned my grandfather at all. My grandfather had written out what he wanted for his funeral long before he passed. Preaching a sermon was not on the itinerary. We didn't make a scene, but when he tried to conclude the event, we decided to get back on track and, much to his dismay, several of us got up and spoke, myself included. We're very spiritual people, my family and I, my grandfather was a pastor for 18 years. But a funeral is not the place for a church sermon, it's supposed to be about honoring the memory of the person who's passed. And that's what we did, moronic pastor aside. Trying to let that one go, but it still irritates me.

Sunday morning The Tardis died for the final time. That's what I call my car, though I don't think I've ever mentioned that on here before. My dad wants to use some of the money my grandfather left him to get me a better car and consider that his farewell present to me. My grandmother and my dad are still having a hard time dealing with the loss, as am I. For the time being, I'm driving my dad's car and he's driving his dad's truck. Hoping I start getting good news that actually feels like good news again. Just give me some time and I'll be okay again.


S.D.
  • Mood: Pain
  • Listening to: Emenim
  • Reading: Two Cheers For Anarchism
[re-edited as of 8:36 central time]

Prologue: Endings and Beginnings

1
Two masked figures approached the abandoned hospital on Market Street. Both figures wore black, but while the taller of the two had short hair and wore a birdlike masque with a long beaked nose, covering only the top half of her face, the shorter one had hair that reached halfway down her back and wore a smooth black masque which covered all but the top right corner of her visage. Both were brunettes, but the taller figure had small, but visible breasts, while the shorter was flat as a board. The latter made up for this lack with the weapons she carried, she wore a katana on her back, daggers strapped to each thigh, and two sais hung from her hips. Both were clad in black, but the taller woman wore a tight running shirt and a pair of nylon track pants. The shorter figure wore black tights and a black cotton dress. Sensible black street shoes adorned the feet of both.
What had once been a state of the art hospital in a booming town center was now reduced to a dingy, crumbling husk in a poorly lit, poorly maintained slum. No street cleaner or garbage man ever graced this neighborhood with their business anymore, as was evidenced by the filthy gutters and the rotten smell of decay that filled the air. Twenty years ago this had been the place to be if you were well to do, or even a middle classer. Now it was populated mainly by pimps, drug dealers, squatters, whores, and pickpockets. Occasionally, a high rolling mafioso would swing by in is Mercedes or Royce to dump the body of a traitor held in particular disdain, but that was about all the flash and pomp one could expect from Market Street anymore, and no one would ever admit to being around when that happened. There a lot of fine ways for a man or woman to die, but being a loose end for the mafia to tie up wasn’t one of them.
Masque took a brief moment to scan her surroundings, taking mental note on the similarities this neighborhood bore to her own. There wasn’t a hospital on her block, abandoned or otherwise, but the stench and the trash heaps were both familiar to her.
“Are you sure this is the place?” She whispered to Raven, her mentor, who had accompanied her this evening.
Raven flashed her metallic teeth in an eery smile, pointed at a dimly flickering light emanating from third floor window, and cupped a hand to her ear as a signal for Masque to listen.
Masque glared at Raven, the woman was infuriating! This was one of the reasons she’d chosen to go solo, as soon as that beaked masque went on, Raven refused to communicate like an ordinary human being! All the same, Masque understood the message. She looked up and listened. Sure enough, there was a muffled voice, grating like a rusty knife on concrete, the words hard to make out from this distance. And there was the sound of someone screaming. Or rather, trying to scream, likely with his or her mouth sewn shut. This had to be him. Skull Fuck had indeed come to Tripton.


Decided to add Raven to the story just to make things a little more interesting. Been thinking of revamping the original idea ever since I got feedback from my writer group. That's all.

S.D.
  • Mood: Neutral
  • Reading: Spawn: The Endgame Collection
  • Watching: WWE Summer Slam 2014

deviantID

daddyslittlejanegirl's Profile Picture
daddyslittlejanegirl
Simyona Deanova
United States
I'm pansexual and genderfluid. Also, emo/punk with high-functioning Autism. Religiously, I'm a Christian Mystic.

By the way, this picture update is not an indication that my gender identity has changed. I'm still genderfluid. I've just got shorter, more punky hair now. In the new pic I have spiking wax in my hair and liquid foundation softening the features of my face.

Current Residence: F.C., IL
Favourite genre of music: Could you be more specific?
MP3 player of choice: I don't now, nor will I ever own an MP3.
Shell of choice: What's THAT supposed to mean?!
Skin of choice: ?
Favourite cartoon character: Garfield the cat
Personal Quote: "Money cannot purchase honor." -Fremen saying
Interests

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Comments


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:iconkajm:
Kajm Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy Birthday!
Reply
:icondaddyslittlejanegirl:
daddyslittlejanegirl Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2014
thank you. Sorry for the delayed response. I've have connectivity issues since Thursday and am currently using a family member's computer. I'm hoping to have the issue resolved soon.
Reply
:icona-l-connor:
a-l-connor Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2013
Sorry to randomly pop in without any prior introduction, but I happened to noticed that one of your favourite drawings here is one titled "Here Comes the Bride." As this picture includes me, so to speak, I couldn't help but contact you... 

Do you by any chance know "someone" (an internet troll, character in many different respects, in all kinds of stories, etc...he was a lot of things) by the name of Fredrick? He also went by Freddy, and would've likely taken the last name Macvarian. I'm looking for this person, but have yet to find any trace of them other than via this image. Hopefully you can help me...
Reply
:icondaddyslittlejanegirl:
daddyslittlejanegirl Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2013
I don't think so, but it's probably been a while since I faved that drawing. And I mostly pay attention to the art itself when I fave things. I hope you find this person you're searching for though. Sounds pretty serious.
Reply
:icona-l-connor:
a-l-connor Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2013
it was for a long time. the person i'm looking for actually was the artist that drew that, but his/her (its confusing) account has since gone quiet for years. i've been trawling the internet looking for any account of theirs, but thus far this is the closest i have come. *sigh*
Reply
:icondaddyslittlejanegirl:
daddyslittlejanegirl Featured By Owner Dec 8, 2013
I'm sorry to hear that.
Reply
:iconmushu-xiii:
Mushu-XIII Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2013   Photographer
I Am No Longer Dead! ;D
Reply
:icondaddyslittlejanegirl:
daddyslittlejanegirl Featured By Owner Dec 5, 2013
Yayyy!!!!
Reply
:iconmushu-xiii:
Mushu-XIII Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2013   Photographer
So How's DaddysGirl Been? :)
Reply
:icondaddyslittlejanegirl:
daddyslittlejanegirl Featured By Owner Dec 7, 2013
Mostly frustrated, but with occasional happy spots.
Reply
(1 Reply)
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