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How to get a Secret submitted.. OPEN!Send your secret to DeviantArtSecret@gmail.com
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You are invited to anonymously contribute your secrets to DeviantArtSecret.
Each secret can be a regret, hope, funny experience, unseen kindness, fantasy, belief, fear, betrayal, erotic desire, feeling, confession or childhood humiliation.
Reveal anything – as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before.
For help or assistance, visit the INTERNATIONAL SUICIDE PREVENTION WIKI.
One Secret at a Time per Person
Due to the size of DAS, it is necessary to limit submissions to one secret at a time per person.
DO NOT send in more than one secret at a time.
Always wait for your current secret to be submitted to DAS before sending in your next secret. This will also ensure that your secret is submitted in the order of when i
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Christine was in her pjs sitting at her desk studying mutant cases for future missions, as ordered by Professor Xavier to help improve her mutant abilities. Even though she was nineteen years old now, she still continued to learn at Xaviers School for Gifted Children since she has not fully mastered her mutant powers, according to Charles Xavier himself. Thats what it meant to be a mutant. Unless you have full control, staying at the school was important.
She glanced at the clock and saw it was 1:30am. She sighed, wondering if she was ever going to get done. Her eyes grew tired and strained to focus at the papers with her desk lamp as her only light source.
Just then, she heard a silent vacuum bamf noise behind her. She swiveled around in her chair with a smile, already knowing she had a familiar visitor.
A man stood before her on his two toes. He was a blue-skinned creature, obviously another mutant, with glowing yellow eyes
The Library PlotMy master is a wizard of some repute; anyone could tell you that simply by observing his library. Even if you had never seen his face before, seen him strut about in his fancy embroidered robes and pointed wizard hat (which went out of style ages ago), you would know he was a wizard if you perused the books he has collected. His private library is a font of knowledge, a den of arcane secrets passed down through generations of sorcerers, savants, mystics and soothsayers. Here, scribed on papers bound in leather, cloth and dragonhide, are all the tricks of the trade my master plies.
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And it is here, in his library, that I spend the majority of my time these days, plotting his downfall.
Oh, it's not like my master has ever treated me unkindly. Quite the opposite: he took me into his home when I was alone, a poor sad victim of the streets. He keeps me fed, offers me a place to sleep, has nothing but kind words to say to me. He gives me free reign of his household and lets me come and go as