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About Literature / Hobbyist Sarah F.Female/New Zealand Recent Activity
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Literature
Comic Sans
He wrote his suicide note in Comic Sans.
He folded it up nine times.
He placed it under the rabbit's foot, beside the pottle of wax and jar of feather.
He set his paper boat down in the ocean and sailed off without a rudder.
He saw the doves with their rose thorn branches.
He left paradise without taking a pomegranate seed.
He came out of hell whiter than asbestos.
He left an eagle chained to a rock, palms encased in snake-skin gloves.
He enjoyed life, and now he's barred from heaven.
He made friends with the seven sins.
He wrote a note to God in Comic Sans.
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:iconsessils:Sessils 1 0
Literature
Nostalgia
Nostalgia
n. asentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.
I shift only slightly, as too much may draw attention of the watcher.
I can see him through the eyeglass affixed to my head, the monocle-like device strapped tight as I peer through one eye. He sits upon the rooftop- I can only see his muzzle and the occasional flash of fur. For what beasts they are they do hold intellect, for he has been watching for some hours. His back is now to me, and as such I find myself relaxing somewhat more into the snow, tense muscles allowed to breathe for what is the first time in hours. This location, this place, it remains far, far from familiar territory- what once was obviously a small town has been taken, by both tundra and beast. In the clear blue light of the new day it almost looks peaceful, a simple place for what may have once been a simple life. The snow is fast to claim what is rightful its however, for the snow banks have already crep
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:iconsessils:Sessils 0 0
Literature
vita incerta, mors certissima
vita incerta, mors certissima
The interrogation room was cold, unnervingly cold. Water soaked into the woollen blanket that sat on her shoulders as Iosefka stared at the table before her, eyes unfocused, body shivering hard. A cup of something hot sat to one side of hers, the book to the other, its thickened cover marred by welts of leather, etched creations of gothic detail. Despite the water that clung in its rivets and dragged down edges of the pages the young woman knew no liquid would ever stain its form; it was untouchable, a source of immense power. Of ambiguous intent. It almost physically pulsed beneath her hand that white knuckled against its spine, breathing into her flesh, and yet unable to pull herself away Iosefka merely breathed along with it, finding her own breath beginning to waver with its. The warmth it had given her the first time she removed it from the Great Library’s shelves was missing, a luke-warm attempt at a replication. Was it really gone forever?
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Literature
I do not understand
I do not understand.
When we were young and fill of trust, we thought every promise must be kept. Neglecting of course, the simple ones, like promises to buy sweets or promises to marry when we were running through playgrounds laughing. They were just forgotten about- Not in a bad way, but merely drifted off through the passage of time, an elderly couple living their end days.  
We remember them not as broken nor forgotten, not with hurt feelings but with wistful smiles, or chuckles at how childish we were.  
They did not harm when they passed the due dates and flittered by- No more then a sting of sorrow or a pang of regret for the friends who primary school friends who drifted away, never to be heard of again except from your friend's friend who knows them on Facebook, so many years later. They are sweet losses, broken promises which you are at peace at, because when you were young the term 'broken' did not how it's emotional connotations, in such negative ways, that it does when you
:iconSessils:Sessils
:iconsessils:Sessils 3 6
Literature
Bridge
The sky was grey. It clung to the atmosphere above her head, a curled and twisted moss that only the paid or the fanatical would clean. The wind was little better, silently screeching as it buffed against her black jacketed back, gripping and dragging her brown hair outwards to frame a paled face. She cared for neither, distant ice eyes staring at the landscape in front of her, the chopping waves of the sea hiding a peaceful gut. She is the same but upside down, the only sign of the malicious storm the white knuckles that grip her journal to her heart. They both have been violated, her organ and book, to the point where she trusts neither and either. They are just pawns in the games she plays with her and herself.
Her balance is perfect, her ballerina feet keeping her rooted to the railing. Still the girl wears the white dress beneath the black jacket, the beauty tainted only by the wearer herself- For she wore her heart on her sleeves, and now that they have burst the draping arms are
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:iconsessils:Sessils 1 3
Literature
Leto's Inversed
closed eyes but broken hearted
mine, a thousands tons of lead
a fabricated illness was their dismissal
but she was the only one dismissed
their hate and pity pounds upon me.
as broad as it is long
but their minds are just too human
that of marble hearted women
and those of pig headed men.
jealously like a Barbary pigeon
for that i am kept at bay
peeking through aloof white fences
my fingers taint them grey.
my presense poisons their rose-smattered views
but not of their wrath i am made afraid.
i am god's unwanted
but this isn't my valedictory speech.
for me the church bells didn't play
for her god's ethereal home she will stay.
this was her love-fueled reaction
to my actions that only gossipmongers would say.
i am Leto's inversed, a once brightened image to fade
closed eyes but broken hearted
mine, a thousands tons of lead
suicide was my dismissal
but she was not to be dismissed.
:iconSessils:Sessils
:iconsessils:Sessils 0 2
Literature
She
She makes Raro drinks in her mouth with me.
It was my idea really, though truth be told I did not expect her to trust me. We probably should have stopped after inhaling those tiny white specks of Raro crystals by accident and began to cough. But we did not, and adding water we sloshed the combination in our mouths and swallowed.
The result was less than satisfactory, but she laughed for so long that I'm glad I told her about it. I can not help but be thankful that she is used to my oddness.
She comes to me to get her away.
Into my dingy car we clamber, and on my restricted license I drive us away from the horrid music and chaos that is our highschool prom. I take her to my thinking place, and for the next few hours we lay in the dewed grass and stare at the stars, the water seeping into our beautiful dresses like nebulas beneath us. The acolyte I am holds the truth, which whispered to the sky sound sweeter than kept in my head, and as she leans against my echoed form I know she is list
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:iconsessils:Sessils 2 6
Literature
I will tell and have told
I have told myself I am not callous
[for I am not callous]
And I have told myself I am not selfish
[for I am not selfish]
But in a creeping, sobbing, incoherent moment
[I am not callous]
I, for once, thought on my own
[I am not selfish]
And cut you down to shape
[I am human, and above I am all.]
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:iconsessils:Sessils 2 12
Literature
Taste of Freedom - Chpt. 11
Title: Taste of Freedom (Chpt. 11)
Game: Dragon Age 2
Author: Blissy-Kills, aka Sessils
Characters/pairing: Anders, Varric, Leandra, Fenris, Orana, Bodhan, Sandal and Cinnamon Hawke
Author's note: All characters belong to Bioware, except Cinnamon Hawke. Yeah, I'm not going to apologise for this wait this time, because it's become clich'e. All I will say is: Wow. I am sorry Cinnamon- It'll get worse before it gets better.
_________________________________________________________
It was her little secret, the mirror. Not its existance, but her reluctance to stare into it. The inability to face herself. The scars that stained her features brought back memories, painful ones, and the tired smiling eyes seemed to better haunt than heal. And all the while, the absent colours would run though her mind, a desperate attempt to keep them alive. The red of her family's crest, the blue of her mother's eyes. Cinnamon could see the shades, the transition from one hue to another lighter or darker one
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:iconsessils:Sessils 1 0
Literature
Averil
Rain drips slowly down the side of her face;
Her eyes don't see no clouds today.
Soft feet whisper on supposed green;
It's the mind, swirling in its sleep,
And softly, gently forgetting.
She has walked this path before,
but now, in dreams it is alive.
Afraid the love has been squandered
In the pursuit of her long years
Now she sits, alone, breathless and cold.
Who wants to live forever?
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:iconsessils:Sessils 4 2
Literature
Taste of freedom - Chpt. 10.5
Title: Taste of Freedom (Chpt. 10.5)  
Game: Dragon Age 2  
Author: Blissy-Kills, aka Sessils  
Characters/pairing: Anders, Varric, Fenris, the three wise spirits (together again) and Cinnamon Hawke   
Author's note: All characters belong to Bioware, except Cinnamon Hawke and my adaptations of the spirits. And once again Freddick, the unsuspecting cheesewheel. He is always watching. Enjoy, and sorry for the wait. Again. Again. Again. c:  
_________________________________________________________  
The absence of air tickling her skin was worse than its presence, and the feeling pushed Cinnamon into awareness. Instantly she wished she was back in her dreams, where it was blue sky of Kirkwall, not the emotionless and empty expanse of the Fade, that greeted her eyes. Because the sight of reality proved to the mage that she was wrong.
The sight shifted as Cinnamon sat up, blue eyes sweeping to prove she was back at the starti
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:iconsessils:Sessils 1 3
Literature
The Thief
     'Judge your success by what you had to give up in order to get it.'
~ Dalai Lama

There was a door.
It was a very nice door. Someone, God knows who, had taken their sweet, precious time to carve out intricate designs of gears, swirls and abstract lines before defining said indents with gold paint. The wood itself was so old, so cherished and polished that the rich mahogany colour stood out like a painting. It was so beautiful one could have licked it and tasted the heritage, though door licking was not encouraged in modern day society. Of course it was not the front door- such a door did not desire to be locked up like a nun's innocence just so the esteemed bank that lay behind its gateway was protected. No, it was more or less the second door, as the first door was a metal, lockable excuse for an entrance and about as attractive as a moldy, slimy slab of granite. In a dress.
Still, it was a bloody impressive second door.
And it may well have continu
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:iconsessils:Sessils 5 12
Literature
Preview - Work in progress, name needed
' It's me against myself this time
Me against the world I hide
Can I overcome and find a way
To be alive.'

There was a door.
It was a very nice door. Someone, God knows whom, had taken their sweet, precious time to carve out intricate designs of gears, swirls and abstract lines before defining said indents with gold paint. The wood itself was so old, so cherished and polished that the rich mahogany colour stood out like a painting. It was so beautiful one could have licked it and tasted the heritage, though door licking was not encouraged in modern day society. Of course it was not the front door, as such a door did not desire to be locked up like a nun's innocence just so that the esteemed bank that lay behind its gateway was protected. No, it was more or less the second door, as the first door was a metal, lockable excuse for an entrance  and the first-and-a-half door was a sophisticated metal detector operated by one of the many service androids.
Still, it was a blo
:iconSessils:Sessils
:iconsessils:Sessils 0 19
Literature
Nothing is constant but change
A single step
A moment's leap
Without a thought
Nothing to keep
Would you lose
To gain another?
Would you keep
But kill each other?
If doves that crash
Were made to die
Would you stay
And sing goodbye?
Who are you
To give your life
Without a thought
Of grief or strife
Oh...
In a thousand years
The streets are white
Painted so
So they can't fight
Over
Our
Wars.
:iconSessils:Sessils
:iconsessils:Sessils 4 4
Literature
Taste of freedom - Chpt. 10
Title: Taste of Freedom (Chpt. 10)
Game: Dragon Age 2
Author: Blissy-Kills, aka Sessils
Characters/pairing: Fenris, the Spirit of Compassion, a Rage Demon, other peons and Cinnamon Hawke
Author's note: All characters belong to Bioware, except Cinnamon Hawke. Enjoy c:
And please forgive me, I know it's been nearly two months since I lasted posted, I am so sorry. I am finally getting back into writing so the next will be quicker. Thank you so much for your paitence.
_________________________________________________________
They were screaming. Loudly. To precisely tell who 'they' were, was impossible at the moment, but an unwanted suspicious grew on Cinnamon that those who were fighting and dying at the moment were mages. And the cause of such misery was a certain important elf.
The little voice that told her to run was a strong one in Hawke about now. She ignored it, like all the other times, and instead continued to trek down the cavern's passage way, determination creased into the lin
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:iconsessils:Sessils 4 4
Mature content
Twenty-carat gold blood :iconsessils:Sessils 1 4
Warning:
Your eyes might burn. You know I love you all.

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:thumb177479889: Procrastination Stamp by SweetDuke

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Greetings and salutations!
So, I have not been active in a long, long time- for many a reason. But I'm starting to come back, and I'm not even sure who is around anymore- or if anyone still follows me. If you do, hello there!

I've been meaning to ask of those that do or those who read my things, what would you like from me? More short stories, bigger pieces, a continuation of my Dragon Age fanfic?

I'll keep writing my own stuff, just curious if there is anyone who is wanting anything in particular.

Sincerely,
Sessils
  • Listening to: I'll Be Good- Jaymes Young
Greetings and salutations!
So, I have not been active in a long, long time- for many a reason. But I'm starting to come back, and I'm not even sure who is around anymore- or if anyone still follows me. If you do, hello there!

I've been meaning to ask of those that do or those who read my things, what would you like from me? More short stories, bigger pieces, a continuation of my Dragon Age fanfic?

I'll keep writing my own stuff, just curious if there is anyone who is wanting anything in particular.

Sincerely,
Sessils
  • Listening to: I'll Be Good- Jaymes Young

deviantID

Sessils
Sarah F.
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
New Zealand
No

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:iconsimmra:
Simmra Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2017  Student General Artist
Happy Birthday :3
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:iconsessils:
Sessils Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2017  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! ^-^
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:iconjust-caro:
just-caro Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey there!  Thank you so much for the favorite, have a super awesome day :) 
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:iconsweetcake15:
SweetCake15 Featured By Owner Aug 10, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you so much for the favorite c:
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:icontitusweiss:
TitusWeiss Featured By Owner Jul 23, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Thank you for the favorite ^^
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:icongrimhoroscope:
GrimHoroscope Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2015  Student Digital Artist
Thanks so much for faving my work Meow :3 
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:iconsessils:
Sessils Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Teehee, no problem. Totally worth it ^^
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:iconry-spirit:
Ry-Spirit Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
nice meeting you in armaggeddon wellington :3
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:iconsessils:
Sessils Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Late reply, but it was nice meeting you too :3
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:iconmirax3163:
Mirax3163 Featured By Owner Mar 26, 2014  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the watch! :heart:
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