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About Deviant Artist Seraphina MitiklukFemale/United States Group :iconbeautifully-undead: Beautifully-UnDead
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the first guy I ever fucked
was eighteen years my senior.
he was also the first guy I ever kissed
because the old man who raised me
and tried to stick his fingers in me
doesn't count.

He told me men want girls
that make them feel like kings,
that make them feel
like the greatest thing on earth.
that they would like me better
if I made noises
like the girls in pornos

His name was Bill
it was the year Kurt Cobain died
I was fourteen
and he was the world to me.

I rent my body out to strangers.
not all of my body,
just the lower half
and my mouth
and my rack.

I guess I should be thankful.
it could be a lot worse.
no one found my cold, dead body
in a dumpster.

I go to pray in a cemetery
because my faith,
like the iron gates
and the boxes in the dirt,
is nondenominational.

you know who's buried here?
Catholics and Protestants,
a few Muslims, some Jews,
and God knows how many atheists.

no one judges anyone here.
there are always flowers
and solemn, crying loved ones
and everything goes to heaven.

Bill came by
about a week after our night together
to drop off the lacy panties
I left at his place.

he stayed for waffles and bacon
and offered Fagin,
my hands-off pimp
and the only father I'd ever known,
enough cash to have me to himself
for the rest of the month.

the first few days,
he kept me in bed for hours.
we fucked like bunnies
and I asked about all his scars
and tattoos.

I cooked for him,
and scrubbed his floors,
and washed his clothes,
and played with his dog,
and I felt like a newlywed.

the first time he hit me,
and it wouldn't be the last,
was because I broke a glass
and blamed it on
his drinking.

I told him that the
"hair of the dog" hangover cure
was bullshit
as I picked up the broken glass

I told him that
his damn drunk clumsiness
broke it as well as
my being in his way.

he backhanded me
and made me fall over,
made my mouth bleed

later he had me lay by him
and gave me a sip of his beer
and touched me softly
and ate me out all night long

I asked why he hit me
and he said he didn't.
he said all he did
was keep me up screaming his name
and more and do it again

And I didn't realize
that drunk is not an automatic didn't count

he told me that day
that being with me
brings him back
to when he was seventeen
and hated the world
and everything in it

and I forgot about my bruise
and kissed him on the mouth
and forgot how embarrassed I was
that he found my clit before I could.

Charley and Jack
are actually kind of sweet to me.
they know when I'm panicking
and help me through it.

which is more than I can say
for any other male on earth

they're best friends.
call each other the Artful Dodger
and Master Bates

they sleep under the table together
with separate blankets
so it's not gay
but I wonder about them.

Bill has faded track marks
all up his forearm.
they look like bruises
that refuse to heal
that refuse to be forgotten.

he says he stopped shooting up
when he first heard of AIDS
and he hasn't picked it up since.

he says he misses it
every day of his life
so I kiss the scars better
and try to help him forget.

Bet loves Pretty Woman
more than life itself.
she says I look like Julia Roberts
but I don't see it.

Julia Roberts has legs like a goddess
and a perfect Barbie doll torso
I have little Bambi legs
and no meat on my bones.

Bet wants a Prince Charming,
who not only remembers the safe word
but wants her to be the dom
and buys her dresses
and takes her to the opera.

and sometimes
I want a Prince Charming, too
I want the fairy tale,
like Julia Roberts did

but that would mean leaving this
and that would mean leaving him
and he still needs me

I don't like high heels
but I don't have much of a choice
whores don't wear flats
that's what they tell me

I do like lipstick
and lacy things
they make me feel worth something
like I have a say in life

I don't like sex either.
I don't find people sexy.
I don't like biting
and I don’t like rough stuff
but Bill does
and the more you suffer
the more it shows you really care

Bet says I should get out
of this relationship
and I think she's right

Bill makes me cry
he drains me
he makes me feel stupid
he makes me feel worthless
and when he's done
there's not enough of me
for anyone else.

he was slobbering drunk
and I stayed out of his way
but he said I was ignoring him
and accused me of
being a bitch

he took the collar
off of his dog
and put it around my neck
and dragged me around by it

he hit me
pinched me
bit me
and took me to bed

and that was the first time
I said no
and he didn't listen
other times he threw a fit
but he still stopped

this time
he thought he owned me

the next day
I told him that
I couldn't do that again.
he acted like he didn't know
what on earth I was talking about
asking how I expected him
to remember doing something that drunk

but he does remember.
I can see it in his fucking eyes.
he knew what he did to me
and there was no remorse

I packed my things
and told Bill
I was going to live
with Bet for a while

he said no
and pulled me to him
and kissed me all over
and said I was the only girl
he ever loved

I told him
I can't do it anymore.
we're bad for each other.
he needs a girl
who hits back
and won't be stepped on
and I need someone,
maybe even just a friend,
who would never dream
of stepping on me.

and I pet his dog
and said goodbye
and went to Bet's

we watched movies.
Pretty Woman
and Pulp Fiction,
even Toy Story.

she painted my toenails
and took a pumice stone
to my calluses
and helped me condition my hair

she made me feel like a princess.

later on,
while we were both
getting ready for bed,
she told me she knows
how it feels to be empty

she told me that
I didn't have to like sex.
not everyone does.
and I cried
because she made me feel human

I think she wanted
to kiss me on the mouth
but she hesitated,
noticed I didn't want to,
and hugged me instead.

maybe she's the one
who loves me more than anything.

a week later,
Fagin told us
Bill was in the emergency room.
he went back to smack
and overdosed
but they revived him.

I don't look seventeen.
maybe I'm just so skinny
I look taller
but even when I started
gaining a healthy amount of weight
I looked older

it must be
the wrinkles under my eyes
or the dark circles
or the weary, worn look in them

they are windows to the soul
and my soul is so much older
than just seventeen
I haven't been just seventeen
in a long, long time.

maybe I have never been.

I went back to him.
I couldn't help but fear
that I was why
he was shooting up again

and he treats me like shit
and I know he does,
so how is it I still see
the universe in his
sunken gray eyes,
and miss his bristly buzzed hair?

I often ask myself
do I love him,
or do I love waking up
next to the same face
every morning after
doing what I have to
to get Fagin his money?

is this as good as it gets?

I don't know what I am.
mostly white, probably,
but what kind of white
and is there anything else?

I look at my cheekbones
maybe I'm an Indian
I look at my mess of curly hair
maybe I'm Italian
I look at the drink in my hand
maybe I'm Irish

and I laugh
and I cry
and I drink to forget
all the times someone else
made me drink this stuff

it doesn't taste good
but I never drank it
for the taste.

Oliver is an adorable kid
with beautiful brown skin
and afro hair
and a desire to save the world

he doesn't want to be a criminal
he wants to be a doctor
he wants to help people
and he needs help with his reading

I want to give him everything:
a special needs tutor,
medical school,
and a family to love him.

but all I have
is a jar of mostly quarters
and three fifty dollar bills
for emergencies

and everyone knows
dirt poor black kids
are used as scapegoats
so suburban moms can blame hip hop
for the arrests of the youth

I really hate that
Bill and Toby need Oliver
to help them pull off
a burglary.

I brought the kid over
he's small for his age
and warned him
with all the tenderness I have
not to set Bill off

because he will look
for any excuse
to hit anyone smaller
who won't fight back
and he's wanted to beat the good
out of little Oliver
since day one

he showed the kid
how a pistol works
and how to load it
then put it to the poor boy's head
and threatened him
to not say a word
out of turn
on pain of death.

it broke my heart
to hear him cry
but I had to pretend
I didn't care
for my safety
and Oliver's

I fixed them dinner
but Oliver can't eat
neither could I
the first time Bill
put a gun to my head

they had to get some sleep
so I followed Bill to bed
only to hear him say
not tonight
but maybe tomorrow
if I was extra good
and woke him up on time

he wandered back days later
the botched heist
was all over the news
and he cried when he confessed
he left the boy
bleeding out in a ditch.

he had a fever and chills
I got him to the bed
and visited the cemetery
to pray for both their souls

Bill was beyond sick
he couldn't keep anything down
and his fever got to
one hundred and four point three

he was sure he would die
he just asked if I would fuck him
one last time
it was his last request
how could I refuse him?

his hands grabbed my hips,
once so forceful,
so full of life,
now clammy and limp

and his eyes
no response,
no familiar hunger or lust
just half closed
and glazed over
with no expression on his face
and, oh god, he looked dead.

he finished and I
kissed him on the mouth
for what I thought would be
the very last time.

I tried to shower
the feeling of death
off of my body
I ended up crying
and throwing up,
almost missing the toilet

and I sat under the shower head
for I don't even know how long,
but when I got out
Bill’s fever had broken
and he was hungry

and I started to cry again
but I couldn't tell you
if I was happy he survived
or I was hoping he wouldn't.

I keep hearing things about
a man named Mr. Monks
and what he wants with Oliver

not death,
just trouble with the law
preferably an arrest
so he can be written out of a will

they look nothing alike
and he's easily ten years older
but he says they're half brothers.
makes me wonder who the dad is
and who Oliver's mother was

I wasn't told any of this
but no one said
I wasn't allowed to listen
it's not my fault
shutting up,
acting dumb,
and observing
is what I do best

Rose Maylie is
without a doubt
the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen

her skin is black as night
her eyes twinkle like stars
and when she smiles
her teeth are the most
impossibly lovely crescent moon

it was her mother's house
Bill and Toby tried to rob
and they've taken care of Oliver,
adopting him as their own

and it's no wonder
she's taken to Oliver
she wants to save the world, too
and she's kinder to me
than most

she's only seventeen
like me
but she has the charitable grace
of a Mother Superior.

she wants to help me
leave this life behind
but that would mean
leaving him behind
and I don’t know if I can do that.

she tells me she can
get me a job as a housekeeper
for one of her family's
vacation houses
and I can see Oliver
every summer or Christmastime

or they could set me up
like in witness protection
to where I could work from home
and they would send me care packages
to keep my spirits up
Bill could come, too
and he could bring his dog

but Bill wouldn't agree to it
and even if he did
he wouldn't be discreet
he'd get a little too drunk
be a little to loud and violent
and hit things a little too hard
and we'd end up arrested anyway

but it's nice to dream.

she hates that she can't
accommodate me
and I hate to refuse her
and her infinite kindness

so I ask her one thing;
keep taking care of Oliver.
keep him safe
get him help for his reading
and let him be a doctor
and never let him feel unloved

she gave me the ribbon
she had tied in her hair
and told me it was a token
of our friendship

that she would recognize it
and if it were tied to anything
she would know to meet me there
and call the police
if I didn't show up.

I always knew
Bill would be the death of me
it's just a shame
I couldn't bring myself
to prevent it.
Confessions of Nancy Clemm
I'm rewriting Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist, focusing on Nancy and her relationship with Bill, set between 1994 and 1999. Mostly because the is still crazy relevant to the point where it seems all that changed was the clothes. also, I took some massive liberties with the character details, because as great as they are, we don’t know much about them. Since Nancy is the main character, I figured writing a poem in her point of view would help me flesh her out, and it did

as is the case with a lot of poetry, grammatical errors are completely intentional.
Twenty years I have feared him
and twenty years you have comforted me.
And after twenty years
I cut him out
and it was the last straw for you,
and for once in my life
once in those twenty years
I felt safe
and I felt free.

But now I hear the old excuses:
"He can change," you say,
"he has it in him,
and he is willing to change.
Something musta gotten through to him."

But you always said this
after all those times
he told us we were nothing,
he threw things and broke them,
and he threatened to get us killed
if we put him in jail.

and I'm terrified you'll go back,
after twenty years of his shit,
and it kills me more than just a little
because after twenty years of
insults, threats, broken promises and possessions,
you still don't see
he is nicotine,
the bad habit, and the cancer it results in,

and you are the sun.
please don't go back
stuff has been going on and I really don't want my mom to go back to my dad.
Violet doesn't want to be a Countess by blackparademajorette
Violet doesn't want to be a Countess
She doesn't want to cook for his troupe, she doesn't want Klaus and Sunny to be disposed of, she doesn't want to wake up next to him every morning, and she doesn't want to be the bride in his stupid sham play.

Violet Baudelaire from A Series of Unfortunate Events. One of those book series I always wanted to read but never got around to. The original illustrations have been a huge inspiration for my own art style. So, here's my ode to those illustrations. Helquist put the orphans in (well, Violet and Klaus anyway) in what look like children’s clothes from the 1920s, so I went with that and used '20s style and aesthetic. Along with the original illustrations, I drew inspiration from Harry Clarke's illustrations for Tales of Mystery and Imagination by Edgar Allan Poe (specifically Ligeia) and a poster for The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and a little bit from Tony DiTerlizzi's "The Spider and the Fly" illustrations, seen in this reading…
Alekatokak Begins her Journey by blackparademajorette
Alekatokak Begins her Journey
for the Myths-and-Legends group contest to show myths in another genre. I took an Inuit myth/folktale and reinterpreted it as a storytelling-wise Miyazaki meets Tolkien urban fantasy epic. A myth as a fantasy epic doesn't sound all that original, but Native American/Native Alaskan/First Nations stories tend to be very bare-bones and to-the-point, yet circular. you can read the story here:… and see what I mean.

anyway, in this version, Alekatokak and her family live in early 20th century Alaska, going between King Island and Nome. (King Island is a barren rock with a small village. most Islanders migrated to Nome and live there for a bit to restock every year.) She has never been really loved by her father because she was always healthy and strong and was named after someone in her mother’s family, and her brother, Asuvina, was always sick and named after someone in their father's family. (Who you're named after is very important in Inupiaq culture.) Meanwhile, the world is changing. Every day the tundra feels a little less magic and the Inupiat, the real people, feel a little less real. The world seems bigger and more dangerous, and when Alekatokak returns home from setting up traps without her brother, her father leaves her to the mercy of that bigger world.

she goes out on a journey to find her brother, joined by a Shadow Person named Unnuaķ, meeting Shadow People, Giants, Qalupaluit, and Deities of the old religion, and many others on the way in this sprawling tale of the old world coming to terms with the new and a sister’s love and dedication.

oh, and she has superhuman strength. She can kill a caribou with her bare hands. that's part of it, too.

Notes: graphite on paper. I don't have access to a scanner, so I took a picture of it with my phone. please don't judge me.

there's probably a lot of anachronisms with what she's wearing. I was going for about the 1920s but there's not a lot of photo references for qaspeqs/kuspuks from that age.

I was kind of experimenting with thick and thin lines and hatching, as well as movement and Tarot imagery. I noticed Alekatokak was in the center rather than a third of the paper, which I realized is usually a big composition no-no, so I started making parallels with the Fool card. She is shown here at the beginning of her journey, so it fits.
Rapunzel and her Princess by blackparademajorette
Rapunzel and her Princess
Rapunzel and her Princess (Princess Sappho, maybe?)

I wanted to draw some same-sex fairy tale couples. Rapunzel seemed like a good story to start with. a major theme in the story is just how far one is willing to go for love, and the witch reacts to Rapunzel secretly meeting her Prince similarly to an extremely homophobic parent learning that their child is gay.

I think I did a good job with the poses and the partial view of the Princess's face


Seraphina Mitikluk
United States
im sera. hi. i plan on using this for all my fanart of my favorite pairings, movies, rock operas, books, and whatever else.

i take requests unless it's not in my skill level or not my cup of tea. my mom recently got a scanner so i might be able to get mor hand drawn peices on.

Current Residence: the better part of the ghetto, alaska
Favourite genre of music: Punk, Grunge, Metal, Anti-Folk
Favourite cartoon character: Homer Simpson
Personal Quote: "to live and not to breathe, is to die in tragedy" ~~Green Day
finally the time has come that my disdain for boring hetero male vampires has been outweighed by my curiosity.  I haven't gotten past Jonathan Harker's journal yet.  the narration is quite bland, but the way the scenes are set up isn't half bad.  so far, it's been dripping with tension of an almost sexual nature.  Harker is being held prisoner, and it feels like the Count dragged him all the way to his castle to do some kinky Phantom of the Opera roleplay.  I'm not even kidding.
  • Mood: Tired
  • Reading: Dracula by Bram Stoker

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KarenHeatherC Featured By Owner Feb 25, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello girl...I saw a movie the other night & wanted to share with u, its about a 13ish yr old girl who draws a pic of a house, then that night the house is in her dreams, then she draws a boy in the window, then that night the boy is in the house...have u ever seen it?? its called Paperhouse.  How are u?
blackparademajorette Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2014
no, actually I haven't ever heard of it.  I'm fine. i've been sick lately, but i'll live.
Niobesnuppa Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2014
Hey, how are those sketches for the Inuit Maker going? :) Just making sure you didn't forget.
blackparademajorette Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2014
haven't started yet, actually.  missed a lot of school.  But don't worry, I got a ton of credible sources, it's just a matter of doing the actual physical drawing.  Are you planning another maker meanwhile? Your harpies are awesome.
Niobesnuppa Featured By Owner Feb 2, 2014
Okay, just checking. :)
And yes, at the moment I'm making a Royal Portrait Maker. It's the first near-photorealistic dressup game I've ever made.
KarenHeatherC Featured By Owner Oct 7, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
How are u lovely lady??
TheRandomPhangirl Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2013
Thank you s much for the fave, dear!
CrazyBecky98 Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2013
When will you post more stuff? I miss you ;-;
Rbananas Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2013  Student General Artist
Thanks for adding Dorks to your favorites!
Viol-Dove-Teshire Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2013  Student Writer
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