Author has written 12 stories for Romance, Life, Love, and General.
“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?”
Greetings. My pen name is Winged Devotion, as you can see, but feel free to call me Sven, if you're so inclined. History student, INFJ.
One of my greatest passions is making up stories to make sense of things. I fill my days and thoughts with it. Ever since I was little, I would make up the most fantastical tales to explain things I understood, or would have liked to understand. Often very silly things. My surroundings don’t really like my eternal hypothetical questions, so I decided to put them in my writing.
On this page, you will find my fictional stories. Since it takes a long time for me to be pleased with anything I write, I don't update regularly. Chances are I'll often be tempted to delete things I've uploaded because I've grown to feel abhorred by the ridiculous things I come up with, or because I cringe too much at my awkward phrasing. The last few years I've mostly been writing academically, so I don't get to write much fiction, alas.
You will also find numerous poems written by my feverish mind. They are written at random intervals -mostly at night- and often don't make much sense. Reminiscence and melancholy are prominent themes. Oh, and love, of course. Failed, cheesy love poetry. Don't blame me; it's a hardware problem.
I've also written a few pieces of
I may take requests –I’m a lazy person, so no promises there– and I’m open to suggestions for the chapters I write, so long as they fit the grand scheme of my narratives. I also enjoy every review, be it good or bad. Make my day or break my day, I don't care: please let me know what you think. Your thoughts are deeply valued.
“Only here's what I really, really want someone to explain to me. What if one happens to be possessed of a heart that can't be trusted--? What if the heart, for its own unfathomable reasons, leads one willfully and in a cloud of unspeakable radiance away from health, domesticity, civic responsibility and strong social connections and all the blandly-held common virtues and instead straight toward a beautiful flare of ruin, self-immolation, disaster?...If your deepest self is singing and coaxing you straight toward the bonfire, is it better to turn away? Stop your ears with wax? Ignore all the perverse glory your heart is screaming at you? Set yourself on the course that will lead you dutifully towards the norm, reasonable hours and regular medical check-ups, stable relationships and steady career advancement the New York Times and brunch on Sunday, all with the promise of being somehow a better person? Or...is it better to throw yourself head first and laughing into the holy rage calling your name?”