|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
GrowthThe mystery slowly comes into focus
The haze of uncertainty,
Dissolves into a calm confidence.
I am the earth, emerging suitable to plant
Desire, to protect gentle roots
To Aerate new innovation
I am the gardener, cultivating and pruning
Decision, of what matures,
And what I let whither.
A MortocycleThe sound of the motor
Once a siren of joy
Now brings only dread
Sick thoughts in my head
This too shall pass
Red fades into black
Black becoming white
New beginnings in sight
My rhyme is contrived
Words flowing like cheap wine
Sick thoughts in my head
Doubt, Shame, and Hope
Write out each new note
To me it all sounds the same
Echoed pestilence through my brain.
The Eternal Story: Character Exposition 2/3 ChanceAs I stare at this blank page, he is infinite potential. The choices that we posses, the very things that separate us from each other, make life possible. Our desire to prove and explain simultaneously drives and improves us, as it collapses the infinite potential that exists within everything that is left unobserved.
The most personally relatable of the Three, Chance inhabits and embodies humanity. He is our freedoms, joys and unbridled expectations. Every choice, mistake, success or providence that we have enjoyed or lamented, is only possible through reality and limited existence.
Purpose, unsure and striving. The unknown. He is ruled by temptation and chaos. The only love he knows is passion, irate and inconsolable.
Rage consumes the inexperienced. Our insecurity manages our day-to-day lives in the struggle for control, acceptance, and understanding.
So much of his portrayal can only be explained through his actions.
Chance is the flame that ignites the fuse; it is his struggle tha
ParalyzedManic action crippled by indecision
Over saturation of option
I could run a marathon
Scream loud and long
Pick a fight
Destroy an opportunity
Do something drastic and irrational
To equalize the pressure between
And the treacherous ocean.
And I do.
Fidgeting in my chair,
It all happens within me.
The Eternal Story: Character Exposition 1/3- TimeFather Time is not old, for to be so, he would have to be a patron of his own cycle. He is, has always been, as long as there has been anything in existence. Which is to say forever, because if there is not something, there is nothing, and time is not relevant.
He is constant, relative to each realm of existence, and yet unyielding to conscious woes. A compilation of heat, space, and development; never dictated; yet never fully understood. Sheer comprehension is impossible without perspective, and within perspective, lies restriction.
Time bears no emotion. That would equate to limitation, and thereby "humanity" as it will so superfluously be named. In a constant superposition of interpretation, simultaneously faster or slower when compared to the varying observer. Yet on each scale a distinct tempo is unchangeable, as if he does control every realm to some degree. The beauty of parenthood; to create and guide a life, through an environment specific to each being, and yet remain comple
Turning PointThe mounting pressure in my chest grows palpable, as it travels and hardens as a knot in my throat. Reasoning has left my mind today, the forces of another facet of my being taking over.
A slow burning panic, inhabiting unwelcome and causeless the void of my most vulnerable insecurities.
When favor smiles upon those accustomed to combat, ones best suited for endurance in contention; favor does not relieve the beating need for survival, the anticipation of the unknown adversary.
Expression; my outlet. That or sabotage the good that has removed me from comfortable elements. The return to turmoil a tempting, beckoning escape.
I arrive here, granted my silver lining made cognizant and physical for the first time in my life. The chaos in my mind is merely a building conception that I deserve better than constant torment.
I can only strive for understanding, before my previous poisons sour the taste of this truly superb love potion brewing.
The Clockwork Heart (Germany x Doll!Reader)
"What am I?"
Not who, but what.
"A doll. I made you."
You ingest this news with an impassive face, though since it is made of sheet metal, the blonde man supposes that it would be hard for you to properly emote. You lift a hand to inspect it. It is meticulously crafted, as would be inspected from one of the top engineers around. It would almost be able to pass for a real human hand, if not for the obvious artificial joints used to craft together your fingers and knuckles. Now another question comes.
"Why did you make me?"
He doesn't answer.
He doesn't answer because he just can't bring himself to tell you he did not mean to bring you to life.
"Who are you?" you now ask, taking in the features of your apparent creator.
There is a slight tint of pink to his pale cheeks, which offsets his somewhat somber expression. He glances at you with piercing blue eyes, this mechanical miracle, and he knows that he owes you as best an explanation as he can offer, under these strange circumstanc
Involuntary Game Testing: Janus into Samus TG
Involuntary Game Testing; Janus into Samus
A Smash Bros TG Story by JanusofthePaleFlames
It was a nice Friday afternoon in his somewhat-small existence as a semi-proud New Yorker. The breeze was strong, but it carried a southern warmth that pleased his cold-ridden hide, which had not two weeks ago braved below-freezing temperatures, followed by two major-degrees of common, yearly illnesses. Such was the price for conserving extra time for hobbies.
Janus was sitting at his desk, comprised of fake, smoked glass, silver metal frames and a shelf loaded with writing books, a dictionary, and a “borrowed”, wooden, dinning chair. Like always, he checked his email, website messages, and at least one of the several on-going web comics he liked to view. Since it was Friday, that meant it was also payday, so he spent an extra couple minutes viewing his bank and credit card accounts to make sure things were in order. As a part-time writer, and a full-time thinker, h
Dean's Pie: Dean x Reader oneshotThe can hissed as your pressed the nozzle down and swirled a generous amount of whipped cream over your microwaved slice of apple pie. It was the last slice… You were craving something sweet. You shoved the can of cream back into the fridge, a naughty smile on your lips as you scurried across the bunker to hide behind a bookshelf and eat your pie in secret.
You slid low into a chair, pulling your knees into your chest and trying to make yourself as small as possible. If Dean caught you sneaking the last slice of pie, you were dead. The forbiddenness of it all made the pie even sweeter.
Your fork scraped against the plate as you took the first bite. Your eyes rolled in ecstasy. It was the perfect blend of caramelized apple and cinnamon. It was surprisingly delicious, despite being a gas station dessert. You couldn’t help but sigh through your nose and slump back.
‘I feel like I need a cigarette,’ you thought to yourself with amusement. Seriously. This pie was li
Way WAY Too Many Apple PiesThe spirit of autumn was in full effect as the Fall Festival lasted well into the evening hours. This was when things really started to pick up. Everywhere one looked, one could see the homemade lamps hanging from the clotheslines on high along all the beaten paths, illuminating the booths and pavilions in an ambiance of natural and artificial light. More guests arrived as the golden sunset took center stage. Every so often, a cool breeze would carry with it scents of lavender, pine, and cinnamon; a seasonal bouquet perpetuated by the merchandise of the many vendors and booth owners present on this festive evening.
“Ugh…” Diamond Tiara rubbed her groaning belly as she made her way through the park. “Explain to me again why exactly I let you drag me all the way out into the boonies for some hick festival?”
“Oh, don’t be like that.” Chirped Silver Spoon, placing her hands on Diamond’s shoulders as she walked closel
Ghosts of the Past
Title: Ghosts of the Past
Game: Mass Effect Series
characters/pairing: Garrus x Reader
Disclaimer: Bioware owns all things associated with the Mass Effect series. You own you. I just own the plot.
Garrus groaned as he crouched behind the wall, clutching his wounded side, hoping to slow the bleeding as he caught his breath. It was hard to believe that it’s come down to this. Hurt. Cornered………….Alone. Garrus clenched his free hand into a fist at the memory of what happened……...the pain still fresh and raw at the thought. His entire team, gone in nearly one fell swoop, the few survivors dead minutes later. He felt sick to his stomach…..he failed everyone……...it was a joke to think he could be a l
Vacation in Puerto Rico: Part 3
Jess clapped a hand over her mouth at hic-urping from feeling him slide inside her stomach like that, while her face turned a bit red. She ran her fingers along her waist as she felt his form within and those little, rubbing hands. Slipping further into the hot tub, she sighed as she tried to not find this awkward. It was meant to be fun after all. In fact, it felt even better with Ike in there while the bubbling, warm water rushed over her form. Her hands flattened out as they massaged over the belly deeper in order for him to feel, but did not resort to flexing her abs. She figured that might not feel quite as nice as this.
I was familiar with the noises that Jess' body made, but there was something new? Pressing my ear against the inside of Jess's belly, I could hear the low rumbling of the hot tub on the outside, as bubbles streamed to the surface and flowed against her body; it felt a bit like a massage as I snuggled against her
Duels of Matrimony - Zephyr VS Ignos
Duels of Matrimony - Zephyr the Kappa VS Ignos the Centaur
It was a bright, sunny day on the Windy Plains. Ignos was out running over the vast fields of grass, trying to catch a glimpse of the rare Silver-feathered Murkrunner.
A few days ago he had caught a hushed conversation between two hunters and a hooded figure. Apparently the hunters had managed to track one of the rare flightless birds and now wanted to collect their bounty from a local knight. Ignos had heard of nobles being extremely keen on the Murkrunners feathers, ever since princess Simala wore a complete dress made out of them.
The hooded figure was probably some kind of knight trying to buy his way into nobility by gifting the feathers to impress a noble so he could marry his daughter. After the decline in female birthrates, nobles became even more picky about whom they’d allow their daughters to marry, so any knight with high ambitions had to absolutely stand out from the crowd to archive his goal. Feathers of the
Snowdragons ( Hijack, Frozen AU )" Even Hiccup..."
Tap, tap, ta-tap, tap.
Jack's head snapped up, and he glanced over at the door, fearfully. Reaching across the bed, he shoved on his gloves, before leaping off and pressing himself to the cold wood.
Frost formed on the wood as he tried to listen to his stepbrother through the door.
" Do you wanna build a snowman? C'mon, let's go and play! I never see you anymore! Come out the door! It's like you've gone away!"
A child's gloved hand reached for the doorknob, touching it with tentative fingers.
" We used to be best buddies! And now we're not...i wish you would tell me why! Do you wanna build a snowman? It doesn't have to be a snowman-!"
Jack ripped his hand back, holding it to his chest, " Go away Hiccup!"
He grimaced and roughly wiped the tears with the back of his hand.
A few years passed.
Tap, tap, ta-tap, tap!
" Do you wanna build a snowman? Or read 'bout dragons in the halls? I think some company is overdue,
Gone (Contest entry) Simon hadn’t moved in a week.
They had been about to go on another adventure, just the two of them; Lewis had told him to be at the wide meadow an hour’s walk from Yoglabs by noon. The spring day had been clear, and Simon had taken his time walking down the beaten path to their usual meeting place; he was late, but Lewis was used to that. The sky had been a brilliant robin’s egg blue, the poppies were nodding in a soft breeze, and birds chirped softly as they flew overhead on their daily errands.
The sky was clear now, and he hated it. How could the sun be shining like nothing had happened? The sky would be eternally gray for him now.
He’d heard the struggle before he’d seen it, the worn boots which clad his feet scuffing up small plumes of dust as Simon increased his pace. One hand had risen to adjust his horned helmet in preparation of a fight. The sounds had gotten louder as he’d approached: voices raised in anger and d
My Little BirdThe evening kisses cool on the back of my neck. I huddle smaller despite the mildness of the breeze. My thoughts turn inward, abandoning civility as I forget to remember again. Christine is a miraculous disaster. She inherently empowers everyone around her. The chaos that is my consciousness every time she walks through it, as carelessly as haphazard. I form a nest, plant a feeder of tempting humbugs, in the hopes that she will settle for a short while, and let me watch. Snap photographs of my imagination; little intangible keepsakes that contain fragile, happy feelings that manifest only for her. My little bird. I let her fly, and she never returned. I am never truly disappointed. It is impossible for me to feel anything but optimistic and positive when she is in my mind. Smitten.
I travel on in the illusion I created for myself when I feel a crunch under my foot. The pink smoke blows from my eyes, and I see a slight, porcelain, little girl; her left arm now dismembered. Such a beauti
Keep in Touch!
Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More