Just keep on clicking
Almost got the Time Machine
Just one more grandma
[Rare-Pair Week] Day 3: FamilyTitle: Love You Daddy
Ship: AbeMihaShino [Abe x Mihashi x Shino'oka]
Word Count: 1215
"Chiyo... Chiyo?" Takaya called from the living room.
"What is it?" she answered from the kitchen.
"She's staring at me." he said. And from his seat on the couch, he never broke eye contact with little Chisame, who gazed at him with wide grey eyes. Her older twin sister Ringo occupied herself with a jingling set of toy keys, unconcerned with her father's current predicament.
"She probably just wants to play." Chiyo suggested. "Try giving her one of her toys."
Carefully, Takaya nudged one of the specially structured toy balls over to Chisame with his foot. The little one looked at it blankly for a moment before returning her attention to him.
"I don't think she wants to play." he called back to their mother. "She's just watching me..."
"She'll whine if she needs something." Chiyo replied. "Ren will be home soon,
[Rare-Pair Week] Day 1: BeginningsTitle: Heart in My Hands
Ship: MihaShino [Mihashi x Shino'oka]
Word Count: 2273
There was nothing remarkable about today, as far as Hanai knew. Practice went well, class was boring; everything was going as usual. Except for Mihashi fluttering about outside the door to Class 7 during lunch period.
The captain raised an eyebrow before delicately tapping the pitcher on the shoulder. Instantly Mihashi lurched back and nearly smacked into the adjacent wall as he spun around. Hanai grimaced as this common behavior, but he shook it off to get to the point.
"Something wrong?" he asked. "You need Abe or something?"
Mihashi shook his head furiously, spluttering halves of words before pausing to collect himself. He always got a sense of annoyance whenever he talked to Hanai, so he thought for a second before speaking.
"No, I... need to talk to Shino'oka..." he said carefully.
"Shino'oka?" Hanai repeated, and Mihashi nodded. There was an awkward pause before Hanai internally sighed. "You need me t
Raising Hell - Epigraph Start“I am nothing special, of this I am sure. I am a common man with common thoughts and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten, but I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul, and to me, this has always been enough.”
—Nicholas Sparks, The Notebook
She was taken from me before her time, and as I’ve trudged through the years, I could have sworn each passing day was a decade, maybe more. Without her in my life, I could feel the time draining what was left of my energy and will. Work and friends did nothing but let time skip ahead, if only by brief seconds, and while I appreciated their efforts, it didn’t help.
The home she and I had shared now became barren and dark, and each passing night only felt colder. And yet I persisted, her memory leading me by the hand through my days, as if pleading with me to carry on, for her. I was never one to refuse her, even as my legs grew he
Harrison Home Prologue P1The air was still as the hour grew later and later, the only pulses within the high-security facility were that of its highest ranking official and another unknown to him. As he sat smugly in his swivel chair within his office on the highest floor, looking down through his full-wall window at the world his family had worked hard to create, Edward Miller was deaf to the footsteps of his undoing coming ever closer.
His desk phone rang, cutting through the silent air with a blast of noise. He grimaced, but answered it; his new secretary had already gone home for the night. "Hello?"
"Yes, is this Mr. Miller?" the voice on the other end was that of a woman.
"Who is this?" he asked.
"I believe we spoke a while ago, a couple days at most. Amelia Harris from Midland U?" the woman answered.
"Ah yes, Miss Harris," Miller grinned upon recalling his previous call with her, "good for you to call, I had completely forgot to inform you that the board has agreed upon your internship here. Your trainin
Chapter 5: The Caramel Tavern [P2]By the time Marshall awoke from the pleasantly empty dream he had, the room he was in was pitch black, and his ice pack had melted. He didn’t recall seeing any sort of lamp in the room, but regardless he sat up and moved his hand out to see if he could find anything that would provide him some light. As he moved, he heard the familiar tinkling of the bell Alma had used. It had been close to his hand, and he knocked it over onto the floor. As he reached down to see if he could find it, the door to the room creaked open, and that older girl from earlier — wasn’t Tiana her name? — peeked inside.
“You awake?” she asked quietly. Marshall nodded from where he now sat up in bed. “Oh good, Mell was starting to get worried.” She entered the room by pushing the door open with her hip, and she carried in a tray of food. “We tried waking you up earlier to eat, but you just wouldn’t wake up! She gave Zero such a scolding after that, she wa
Chapter 5: The Caramel TavernPulling his way out of the hole he had made, Purple popped out into a dark and dank space between the walls of the cells. He had to move quickly, should any of the guards coincidentally look into his cell and find him missing. The space was just a short length wider than his shoulder width, pretty much a perfect fit for his escape; now all he had to do was figure out how to get out.
He chose to turn left directly out of the hole, not paying any mind to the dust that stuck to his clothes, and began to walk quickly. He felt as if a timer lingered over his head, telling him to keep moving, he didn’t have the luxury of hesitating now. As much as he wanted to search the walls for an opening that would lead to Red, he couldn’t risk getting caught and trapped again. He wouldn’t be of any help if he was still stuck in a cell.
But he still had no clue where he was. Was he above ground, or underground? Was he just getting himself lost with going one direction with no turns? He
here, stilli must confess,
i have walked the highway's edge
flirting with the sidewalk, and
wondering whether to take
the one step towards the
rushing waves of traffic
i have balanced upon precipice
after precipice gazing downward,
the finality of flight a strange
and dangerous daydream
that pulls me in
and i have stood at water's ending
the sea a susurrous caress, and
yearned to move forward once,
again, again, until the ocean
can carry me home
so many storms i have weathered
so many burdens i have shouldered
and yet sometimes i forget the
most important thing of all;
i have made it this far,
i am here
i am worthy
i will go on.
desolatei want to write something bitter,
sour and acidic, like the first
shudder after a taste of lemon;
i want to write of how you
kill me with every breath,
every kiss, every sporadic, treasured touch
i want to spill words onto the page
like ink out of a broken bottle,
i want to stab and wound with the fragments;
sear, scratch, pierce
but when i bring you to my mind,
i cannot conjure anger,
nor passion; only a cloud of sadness
i am unable to shake.
there are no nightmares lingering here;
only long forgotten dreams.
NAPOWRIMO 30 Days of PromptsDay 1: I am a poet.
Day 2: I own my flesh.
Day 3: Tell a lie.
Day 4: Love through letters.
Day 5: A thousand kisses deep.
Day 6: Monochromatic fears.
Day 7: You have 7 days to live.
Day 8: Glow in the dark stars
Day 9: Misplaced bones
Day 10: Write as if you are a body part.
Day 11: Wake the dead.
Day 12: Love bites
Day 13: I never think about ____ anymore.
Day 14: Find me.
Day 15: 7 Deadly Sins
Day 16: 3AM coffee
Day 17: Kiss the stars on her arms.
Day 18: ‘Last night—’
Day 19: What is your sign? Write about it.
Day 20: Galaxy skin
Day 21: What is tangled up in your heartstrings?
Day 22: A fight in a stairwell
Day 23: A forbidden desire
Day 24: Stitched the words into my heart
Day 25: Cross-hatched skin
Day 26: Artist fingers
Day 27: Holding up the universe
Day 28: Dig deep
SchizophreniaThe bell rings
I sit, like everyone else
I put my textbooks over the table
Without a complain
Everyone is expressing
Screams of boredom
Rustle of impatience
I just remain in silence
Teacher tells me to read
I forget how I hate to talk
To be judged by those eyes
And I let my voice drain
In a helpless sound
My head starts to lapse voices
It gets all drenched in sorrowful thoughts
Chained by mad ideas
Until it bursts
In a frenzy quantity
Of frenzy desires and illusions
And then I remember
I forgot to take my drugs
I get nervous
I get desperate
They will appear soon
And the teacher knows that
And he asks me if everything is alright
And others laugh
At the junkie I am
All kind of antipsychotic
Drugs for insanity
Drugs for delusions
Drugs to be who Im not
I answer to the teacher I am OK
Though I am trembling like crazy
And he continues with the lesson
Ignoring the signs my body gives
Ignoring the creepy monster
That is about to come
The SlendermanI waited for Master to come. To save me.
I wasn't expecting HIM to come instead. The name whispered through the wind, alerting me to his presence. Master didn't come...
But the Slenderman did.
His tendrils slid over my body in the darkness, and I gasped as he turned me around.
"Liiiiillllyyyyyy....Commmmeee wwiiitthhh mmmmeeeee..." His voice spoke softly, filling my entire being with his sound. I remained silent and tried not to look at him. Master was coming, surely he was.
"He's never hhhhheeerrrreeeeee...." He smiled and grabbed my chin with an actual hand, forcing me to look at his faceless...well, face. I grimaced and tried to turn, but he wouldn't let me.
"I'm heeerrreee to take his pplllaacccceeeeee.....Heeeee said I ccooouuullllddddd...." Slendy tightened his grip, making me cry out. I was paralyzed with fear. I knew he would take me for sure this time.
The last thing I had said to master was that I was never going to see him...
My neck popped as Slenderman whipped my head up.
Creepypasta : SlendermanA long time ago, there was an old man, who lived near the woods of a small village.
His name unknown, his face unknown, some people didn't even know he even existed.
The only thing that truly was knows about this man is that he was a loner since his wife passed away.
He was often seen wandering through the woods.
He lived in a small house, without a television or radio, the only sound coming from the house were slow sad songs, the man sung himself.
On a misty morning the man was found dead in his house.
People began to become curious after they hadn't seen the man for weeks.
The fishermen, who saw the man each morning, looking at them from a safe distance, so that no one would recognize him, were the ones who called the cops.
He passed away in a terrible accident.
His face was ripped off and his hands were gone.
No one knows what happened that night and no one really wishes to know.
Some say the man never passed on.
Years have passed since the passing of the old man, nothing happened e
post-conflagrationoh, darling, look at us;
a crooked collection of
ashen-faced chaotic nobodies,
struggling to stand straight.
we used to burn so bright,
but we're just now learning
why no-one loves fireworks
after they've gone out.
with her eyesshe undressed him-
crept up beneath his shirt as a loft breeze
and allowed the wind to swallow their unnecessary layers
letting her fingers be wary she grazed his marble slab skin
pirouetted atop his collarbones
threw her full self into a tour jeté,
floating along his abdomen
and landed atop his belt buckle.
silently she slipped her palms
(eager with sweat)
beneath his jeans
and nested her head at his chest
to find his pulse thrumming,
parallel to hers.
her hunger began insisting through the pores of her skin,
flooding out in an attempt to feed.
she glanced at him, beneath him, onto him and into him.
her eyes submerged in his honey skin and she inhaled a heavy breath,
and as he finally looked into her eyes she-
rushed to turn her gaze, embrassed he had caught her staring.
angelicusfrom the moment i first heard your
voice, i knew you had to be divine
your lungs have claimed eternity
and your lips, they caught glory
in a gilded cage of songbird sin
every breath is a hallelujah,
every whisper a leap of faith
every clamour a constellation
the other night i dreamed of angels
and they all spoke with your timbre
they all waxed melisma in your wake
sometimes i wonder if your voice
is god's way of letting me in on
his best kept secret;
heaven isn't a home,
it's a harmony.
PE: The Basics of Giving CritiqueA lot of people seem to think that giving a critique requires you to have an art degree and a lifetime of experience. This is merely an excuse barrier to stop you from trusting yourself in the art of delivering a fine critique. Today's Project Educate guide is an aid to help you consider the basics of critique, and in particular critique on dA.
This article has been written as a guideline overview only and one persons advice. There are hundreds of existing "how to" guides for critique already existing on dA, so if this one doesn't suit you, take a browse and see what else you can find!
The key rules to critique
1. Keep in mind you are writing a CRITIQUE not a CRITICISM. Be wary of your word choices and make sure you keep in mind you are helping the artist for improvement. Be Constructive, not Destructive.
2. Consider you audience- who is the artist reading this critique? How may they react to your words? Be wary of patronising the person you are c
StasisDreams only take you so far
before they crush you
and their un-fulfillment.
You cannot move
with bones so broken,
and a stomach
with swallowed pride.
And wing'd hope flies from the fear
of a life well wasted,
leaving you nightmare-shackled
to your potential
screaming in stasis.
PE: Finding Critique on dAWhere to find Critique on deviantART?
So, you just uploaded your latest image/writing onto deviantART and featured it in your gallery with a slight satisfaction you have achieved something. Fantastic, that is step one and now you can sit back and watch everyone's responses come pouring in and showing you everything you need to do to make your work even more fabulous.
The fact is; getting someone to critique your work isn't as easy as that. If you want critique, you need to seek critique and put in the good effort to get it. It won't always work, no plan is fool proof, but here are some places and advice that could help you find the feedback you desire. Not every place on this list will be your cup of tea, but try and see what works for you.
Step one: Make sure people know you want a critique!
If you are a subscriber, make use of the critique function that deviantART provides. You can do this my selecting "Request Critiques" when submitting an