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Untitled-1 by techgnotic

A Rainbow by Vitaly-Sokol

Today's Inspiration

Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud.

Maya Angelou

Today, aspire to brighten someone's day!

Spidey Baby by skottieyoung

Get Pinned!

Marvel's SDCC exclusive pin sets feature art by our very own skottieyoung! These pins are not only adorable, they feature some of our favorite Marvel heroes. Be sure to drop by Scottie's gallery to see if you can find an adorable drawing of your favorite character.

Dreamscapes Autodesk Hero Challenge by AlectorFencer

Autodesk: Design Academy

Autodesk is going to release the Autodesk Design Academy, a collection of curriculum resources, through iTunes U. The Design Academy and book will both be available for free, beginning this fall.

*** by annieparfi

Light Hunters

Enjoy this feature of fantastic photography, put together by S-Patriot for the VenatoresLucis group.

Stay Puft by FilthyinShanity

Ghostbusters Reveal

Director Paul Feig tweeted a picture of the costumes for the upcoming female-cast Ghostbusters movie. They certainly look like they're staying true to the original with maybe a little more flame retardant material. News also surfaced that the rumored guy-centric remake isn't happening according to Channing Tatum's co-writer and producer. How do you feel about this news? Let us know in the comments below.

Wasabi by GumixP

Wasabi: Secret Warfair

Everyone has strong feelings about wasabi, love it or hate it, there really seems to be no in between. Did you know that the strong, distinct flavor of wasabi, horseradish, mustard and many other plants came about as a result of an evolutionary arms race with insects?

Watercolour Texture Techniques by hatefueled

Teach Me: Watercolour

Want to learn more about watercolour but usure where to start? Fear not, for this helpful feature of tutorials will get you off on the right brush.

Siri Gets Even

Apple's virtual assistant, Siri, has had enough of your shenanigans. Users have discovered that if you ask her to divide zero by zero, she will emotionally wreck you and any semblance of confidance you thought you had. Well played, Siri, well played.

Green Day by IFedorovskaya

Working with Natural Light

This helpful guide by IFedorovskaya will have you handling light and shadows in your photography, like a pro!

Red Dragon. by Amisgaudi

Get To Know A Deviant

Get to know artist Amisgaudi through this interview. Then take a moment to check out his incredibly impressive gallery.

Giant Robot Duel

U.S Company, Megabots Inc, built a giant robot and issued a challenge to the Japanese company, Suidobashi Heavy Industries, who have a giant robot of their own -- One year = Giant Robot Duel. Here's hoping our robot battle dreams come true.

Regalia: Of Men and Monarchs - Menagerie by yaminolady

Regalia - Of Men And Monarchs

Ever wandered what would happen if a team of Polish deviants came togeter to create a role playing game? Well, we have the answer: Regalia! Featuring beautiful artwork, turn based tactical battle systems, town building, crafting and deplomacy, there promises to be plenty to do in the world of Regalia. Putting a creative twist on the traditional RPG tropes, this game features the work of Runshin, yaminolady, SylwiaPakulska and more!

Big Fish by angelaoddling

In the Forums

Today we're heading to the thumbshare forum! Share your recent works with us here.

The Wolf Won't Sleep Tonight by NanoMortis

Happy Birthday

Wishing a very special day to NanoMortis. May all your wishes come true!

Literature DD Round Up June 2015

Wed Jul 1, 2015, 12:50 AM
:iconirrevocablefate: Features by IrrevocableFate

on loving a girl who doesn't love herselfYou used to tell her that you’d accept the reminders, the dark shades running down and over the hill of her waist, the shadow of her wrist. Far from unlovable, you said. So far.
Grudgingly, you realized that you could not fix her. She was not a dismantled puzzle just waiting for you; she was her own brand of porcelain, one you didn’t know how to mold back together. She wasn’t breathing for you.
The moments of silence between you led to a longer period, those weeks when you went days without talking – and you didn’t know if you were supposed to be proud of her or cry.
Stargazed at each other’s words until the night came when you learned she wanted you to kiss her scars and make love to them as if they were her self. You laughed without humor and said, "I might as well kiss them with the fucking blade then." She said nothing.
When she discovered that you would love her and her body and her past – but wouldn’t trace the lines on her skin
No Definition NeededI read a book that reminded me of you,
of all the complicated words you used to use,
how definitions fled your mind but synonyms were so profuse.
I read a thesaurus and every word was you.
Happy BirthdayHappy Birthday
Lizzie woke up at dawn.  She was too excited to sleep.  Normally Saturdays were her sleep in day, but today was special.  Today was her mommy’s birthday. 
 Her daddy was going to be so proud of her as he didn’t have to tell her to wake up, to not sleep the day away.  Today she was a big girl, able to do for herself.  She was now 8 years old, no longer a baby, daddy told her so.  With that in mind, she was going to dress herself and do her own hair. 
 Even though Lizzie had not seen her mommy in a long time, she could still remember how beautiful she was.  She remembered how her mommy smelled, always of vanilla.  Mommy used to tell her it was because she was in the kitchen all day baking.  Lizzie did not really understand this, but she didn’t want her mommy to think of her like a baby anymore, so Lizzie would just nod and tell mommy how much she loved the smell.  It reminded he
Hello Neighbor - a Suburban Conversation on Racehello neighbor, i know that
we were supposed to welcome
a retired police officer's arrival
an ushering-in
of a safer enclave, but i
never expected much from you
i don't expect that you're
self-aware enough
to remember
how our mutual whiteness
lulled you into telling me
how you'd so longed to live
in the suburbs
among your own kind
i believe that you phrased it as
"not with the black and spanish"
i also don't expect
that you felt ashamed, when
you saw my wife
who is dark-mixed of
both these dangerous tones-
i do expect that you
probably assumed
that she works here
cleaning, maybe
not expecting much
makes it easier
not to hate you
because hate
is a heavy burden
and you're already
packing more
than a whole block's worth
and i can't lie, that i
don't relish, but still
take a small amount
of comfort
in your frustration, when those boys
broke into your house
to steal nothing but your comfort
and ease, to let you know
that they'd been there
and i don't expect you
found any justice
in the iron
HomeMy parents bought the house on April Fools Day.  It was something of a running joke: should have known, Dad would say, tightening yet another leaking faucet.  It was a sign, Mom said, staring down a nest of carpenter wasps.  In truth, they were never lucky with dates.  Got married on D-Day, had a kid on Thanksgiving.  JFK was assassinated on my Dad’s birthday; Brenda Ann Spencer went on her killing spree on my Mom’s.  Holidays were always a touchy thing.
My second birthday was spent in the new house—a gorgeous, rambling affair in the heart of what had been a boom town during the years of the Erie Canal, and was now just a sleepy commuter village.  They’d lived in consistently horrible neighborhoods up to that point.  Dad had been mugged a block from their first apartment.  A neighbor had been brutally beaten and robbed near their second.  My Mom would recall with wonder the first week they moved int
There Are No Fond Memories of the Garage SaleWe sold the old maternal dress.
The round fade on the worn womb
was greyed and thin. Someone left
a hole unstitched, a hem unpressed.
Everything that went too soon
had stuck around: the old blue dress,
the rocking horse, the rusted wrest
we thought we lost. We never tuned
the baby grand. The sound it left
became a prank to play on guests:
a soundtrack for an empty room,
a child’s ghost inside the dress.
We’ve come so far from being pests.
The blood that rushed to soothe the wounds
our mother’s wooden spoon had left
is calm. We are ready to forget –
un-know the pain. We assume
our mother sold the dress,
as grey and thin as someone left.  
grandmothershe died in 1990,
a stern lady
who had worn her hair in a bun.
she was from old farm days,
when one didn't care for caprice,
and didn't object routine.
as if to ward off danger,
she'd spray vinegar
on frightful stormy nights.1
people came to her because she knew
what those wax formations on water meant:
what caused recurring fever, which prayer could work.2
a town cook, 3
Ina4 could whip up a feast
and make me forget my name.
she was lady-steel until the morning when
her firstborn didn't rise from sleep 5
and so she refused to be and no longer laughed.
she mellowed
and with all her wisdom, i felt
she had no words for sorrow.
© May 29, 2015 :house:
Beauty To A Second GraderMy seven year old sister asked me
if she was skinny enough today.
I told her even if she were the size
of a swimming pool
she would still be the most beautiful
creature on this entire earth,
and she asked me
"If I were so beautiful, tell me why
I feel so ugly"
My seven year old sister asked me
if she looked good in her new dress,
and I asked myself how on earth
she was lead to believe any less than
perfect of herself,
and it made me realize that I never
told her how good she has to be
for herself.
The Mind's Own Place Ch. 1One
There is an Angel staring at me.
I don't mean "angel" in the way of the cutesy nickname men in bars give to women they want to fuck. Or the favorite child of a doting mother. It's not even some Good Samaritan doing deeds that make others proclaim them a saint. No, this is a capital-letter-A Angel straight from Heaven, the ones whose introductions always begin with "Be not afraid!" because otherwise they're too terrifying to bear. You know, that kind of Angel.
If you happen to be wondering how you can recognize one, it's the eyes that give them away. They don't glow, or change color or suddenly look different in a way that would alert you to the fact you're not talking to a human. It's not even a newness—that wet look of a freshly-peeled hardboiled egg—that the young and innocent have. Angels have old eyes, but it's the way they hold them that makes their strangeness obvious. Their brows are a little too high, raised in permanent surprise at the world around them. Blinki
Sinking of the SSS Dungong    Power is a very silly thing to crave.  There are much nicer things to want, like love, or water (rare enough to be wanted here), or good salted fish.
    Really, there can't be any reason to want power other than simply to have it: it doesn't tickle any primal mammalian desires, unless you count the desire to have control over other people.  Controlling others means you yourself are not being controlled by them, but if it's freedom you're searching for, why not put your energy into simply wanting that?
    No, all power gets you is more work and harder work.  Naturally, of all the crew and officers on the SSS Dungong, the captain with all his power has the most difficult work of all — at the moment, he is performing the work of going down with his ship.
    And I am looking down at the iron deck of the Dungong some twenty meters below, and the sands some twenty-five, frothing with moisture where there
Imaginary FriendI sat on the plush rug, waiting patiently for Delilah. Everyday after school she would meet me in the treehouse to talk. She had purposefully picked a place that symbolized childhood. A treehouse forgotten when its own children had grown up. I supposed she had never had the chance to have a hideaway of her own. I worried quite a bit about my dear Delilah, she had a darkness following her precise and delicate movements. She tiptoed around the word, but I still knew. There was a reason she was stuck in her rather immature ways. 
Right on time, exactly 3:17, I saw her charcoal hair peek around the make-shift curtain. "Brandon!" I love the way she smiled at me as if we didn't see each other every day. She knew I'd be there, but she still acted surprised every time. 
"Hello Delilah, how was your day?" I smiled encouragingly. She slowly sat crosslegged next to me, her overflowing backpack placed carefully onto my lap. 
"I'm okay. Today was a good day. I'd rather talk about you
i shall bathe in country watersThe idea was that any man could be changed.
       “The perversions of the mind — corrected!
       The darkness of the heart — purified!
       The turpitude of the soul — remedied!”
The answer had arrived; my sickness, once thought to be incurable, could now be treated. No longer would I pass the sprawling grove that prefaced my father’s home and know that I am unwelcome; no longer would I spend restless nights in the arms of another man, the feeling of blood on my hands.
I could change. I could return to the grove with a proper lover, and I would know how to love her. My father would look upon my face once more. The years I had spent swinging from acacia, plucking the honey suckle, bathing in country waters — they would return to me.
On the day of my appointment, I gave the grove one final passing. I allowed myself a moment to stare down the jade and hickory hil
MorningMy patchy kettle sulkingly burns my coffee residue
fresh-hot from yesterday's muck.
I gratuitously choke on it,
easing smoke through my gullet
like that pervasive daily sun eases mulishly
lace snagged and uninvited;
slick into my newborn retinas.
I can see in the white, bleach-light of noon
we are sick of the birdsong;
the light shaking disappointed fists
while I sit, my bed-sweaty back braced against it:
I wheeze through my coffee and sit vigil.
Bedding coils in dormant patience for the night;
viper-nightmares snooze, folded in my sheets -
damply layered,
they awake only to my scent. My daytimes watch them,
my nighttimes are their reign.
I sleep alone, these days -
my covers feathered hell-fire,
pillows fattened with shame.

:iconsingingflames: Features by SingingFlames

tutorialtake an evening -
reclassify emotions as chemical compounds.
remove one atom,
see what changes.
take your field notes, transcribe them
back to front.
add line breaks.
be scientific. be too scientific.
replace the word 'entropy'
with the word 'god'.
be so full of want that you can feel it
scraping its numb jaws against your insides.
write about flowers instead.
make your first line provocative.
follow it, let it unfurl -
ctrl a.
inauthentic, try again.
ctrl z.
who the fuck
wants authenticity
read, find inspiration.
find new ways to plagiarize old ideas.
stop reading.
hash and rehash,
slash and burn.
look at the mess you've made.
add punctuation
as decoration.
spend an hour flicking back and forth -
write about family. if it hurts too little,
write about flowers instead.
use a word bank.
write in the dark.
write from within your own skull.
write drunk.
write your litanies.
write your lines.
write your
before_ever notice how your fingers curl perfectly into the dip of your palm? how your knuckles rise like snow capped mountains and your whole hand flushes cold and pale? how you can feel the burn of your fingernails digging into your gentle skin, because it doesn't want to fight? how, even after you release the tension, your hand stays white for a moment, with little crescentic indents left amongst its smooth creases, because it remembers? it remembers your fist.
but it soon forgets. it forgets the pressure, and flushes warm and pink again, and the burn quiets away and the quarter-moons smooth out, and you're left with blood on your knuckles that you'll wash away.
the bruises will disappear, and the scars will fade, because the skin hates to remember any more than she does.

:iconthemaideninblack: Features by TheMaidenInBlack

...because all men are brothers    “‘Bout fuckin’ time, look, he’s coming up over there.” The man on the bench beside me tapped my thigh and pointed down the darkened maglev tracks. “Twenty minutes out in the cold, Christ… now don’t you think they should run these fuckin’ trains on time? I only gotta go one stop away, might be faster for me to walk at this point, huh, sweetheart?” He spoke in a mumbling slur, shaking his head, swathed in a stained maroon North Face parka.
    I leaned forward and looked down the track. Aside from us, the platform was empty, lit hesitantly by blue OLED panels that flickered on a collection of dirty benches and overflowing rubbish bins. Silent fields of scrubby grass, gray in the moonlight, extended to the hills on one side; the plant lights glowed behind me.
    “I said hey, don’t you think– this shit needs to be run on time? Eh?” The man jostled pointedly
Delusions of Grandeur
Work was done on sinking ships
In a different time, in a different place.
I had carved my name in the first piece
Of rubble to reach the ocean floor.
Hell was on the high seas,
And I went with the anchor
In the waters of what I thought
Might be my shallow grave.
Atlantis was my refuge,
For I swam with closed eyes
Out of fear of the salt.
I merely felt my way down.
I heard the howling and war
Just above my feet as I descended.
I felt the bubbles of my last breath
rush over me and back from whence they came.
I cared so little as my lungs screamed,
And the pressure crushed my being.
The anchor swam for me as submerged tides
Carried my blind way down.
Had I let go, I might have
swam away from Hell,
Though I feared one journey
more than the other.
I think I will awaken
I think I shall live
I think I can dwell
In Atlantis, should it be found.
That One Show with the Stuff and the ThingsCurtain rises. REPORTER, MR. JABOWSKI, and JACOB are all sitting around a small round table. REPORTER is writing in notepad with a bowler hat in his lap.
MR. JABOWSKI: The day my wife acquired magical powers, we sold the family business. It was the only logical choice considering that the ability to uncontrollably shoot fire out of one’s hands was not exactly conducive to maintaining a fireworks factory. I was devastated, naturally. This business had been passed down through my family for generations, from father to son ever since fireworks were first invented back in 1802.
REPORTER: Um, weren’t fireworks technically invented way back in 7th century China?
MR. JABOWSKI: No no, that’s just another government cover up ploy. You see, my ancestors, they were British. Brought fireworks to America personally when they came here. These silly American’s just don’t want to admit that the British actually did something cooler than themselves, they would rathe
Familial    “He used to scream at me for anything that went wrong, even if it wasn’t my fault.” Becca tells me, sitting across from me on the couch and fiddling with the pockets of her jacket. “The abuse pretty quickly went from verbal to physical. He’d hold me down on the ground and choke me until I passed out. One time, I jabbed him in the ribs as hard as I could to make him let go, and he punched me so hard in the jaw, it cracked my back teeth.”
    I nod. She’s not telling me anything I couldn’t have guessed. Nothing he could’ve done to her would surprise me.
    “When he found out I was pregnant, he tried to beat her out of me. He’d punch me as hard as he could, putting me back on the bed so he was hitting right on the mark. The whole time he kept punching and kicking me in the stomach, he was telling me he loved me. He was doing it because he loved me.” I halfway expect he
Mountain ManIt’s 9:30 AM on a snow-bright morning and he’s whistling loudly. He treads through slush, meets us college kids at the bus stop, and speaks with alcohol-stale breath.
“G’mornin’, young ladies!” He sounds like country and warm summer farms.
We smile and nod, let him ramble because no one likes a drunkard. No one likes the obnoxious honesty, the rancid vulnerability. Keep the sadness at home, sir, for you must be a sad, sad man to be drinking so early. Or, if you don’t have overdue bills and four nicotine-stained walls, finish your beer at your usual street corner.
Don’t speak to him.
Ignore him.

“I’m fifty-four years old!” He takes a staggering swig and the iced sidewalk suddenly seems perilous. “I’ve lived a looong, long life!”
The screeching of bus brakes beckons dread. A couple of us glance at each other, not intentionally being cruel with our judgment, but it’s a Monday morning and we ar
The Stars (Are Out Tonight) - Full VersionSquinting at his reflection, Frankie put the final touches on his makeup. He did a quick itinerary check of the contents of his purse, hitched up his tights, adjusted the starry metallic fabric of his miniskirt and blew his reflection a kiss. Not perfect, but it would have to pass muster as he was already far too late. 
It was Saturday night and his brother Henry was being moody, watching reruns of the same news that had been playing on the telly all day, as though he was still waiting for the ramifications to sink in.
—Population levels have now reached an all time high, prompting Governments across the globe to once again consider Dr. John Eisen’s long disputed Planned-Birth Policy, which would require licensing and pre-approval for prospective parents. Making all non-approved births, in essence, illegal.
The proposal has sparked serious concerns among the growing pro-life supporters in Great Britain and across the world. They claim that it is
PoltercatI always considered myself a person of reason, and of course, at the time I had reasoned that the boxed cat on the passenger's seat of my automobile couldn't possibly be the one I had run over.
It was a common breed, with a common coat. Statistically speaking, the identical hanger on the identical collar could have been a freak occurrence, though wholly explainable by chance, given enough cats with non-matching accessories being run over on a global scale on a daily basis.
Coming home, I had just enough time to unbox the animal and reach for the telephone, before I learned that my great-aunt had died in hospital, and I realised that my 'guest' was now promoted to heirloom and my official property.
-”Auntie's dead,” I told the scraggy thing. It blinked, once and slowly. 'I know' it seemed to imply, somehow smugly.
And that was that – for that day.
I woke up to the smell of coffee – an unfamiliar thing, given my bachelor's life. The brew sat
It's The Distance, I Think.It was sitting on our kitchen counter-
Brown glazed and curved, like her-
Perched next to the microwave.
I thought it would best hold
Her spatula and my two bamboo spoons.
She filled it with yellow tulips and
Pink carnations and hydrangea blossoms and
Told me to "Get your own spoon vase"
With bells in her voice and
Her cheeks dimpled and her eyes crinkled,
And I wrapped my arms around her waist and
Punished her back-sass by tickling her ribs until
We were a jumbled mess, strewn
Across the tile floor- with flushed cheeks and
Not a worry in the world.  
These days, the curved brown jar
Sits next to my stove top and
Holds my two bamboo spoons,
Three of my own spatulas and a metal whisk.
The tiles have been replaced with hardwood
And my eyes never crinkle
And I can't remember the way hydrangeas smell.
Dementia Takes HimSay hello to the old man and
he'll respond with good morning
because he's lost his track on time.
He stands like a hunched statue
and shuffles about like
a child still testing his steps.
Deteriorate and deteriorate
until all words become movements,
until movements become a thought.
He does not bother to sit
for any of his meals but reaches
for it from a standing position
like a cautious animal.
Sleep. His sleeping habits
would make a sloth smile.
Rest in the hospital bed
but stay in your home.
Deteriorate and deteriorate
until words become movements.
Just flesh and bone,
just so much bone to the old man,
a fragile case of worn out paper.
Deteriorate and deteriorate
until all words become movements,
until all movements become thought,
until all thought becomes dark.
Blackout Poetry 3 by ClassyWalruses The Wall [Teaser]     "You took care of everything, right?"
    Miles fumbled with the key ring in the darkness. His heart pounded. He couldn't see the other man in the shadows, but he could feel his breath on his face, and he could hear him as he reached into his coat pocket. Something cool and flat was pressed against Miles' arm, then slipped into the pocket of his dress pants.
    "You can keep your name and everything," Jace assured him. Miles pictured his smug grin and bit the inside of his cheek; his hand slipped, and the key sliced the side of his wrist.
    "You'd better keep up your end," he mumbled. Jace reached over and pried the key ring from his hands.
    "You know I will." There was a soft clink as the key slid effortlessly onto the metal ring. Jace dropped it back into Miles' shaking palm.
    "How do I find the place?" Miles put the ring in his pocket alongside what he assumed was an ID car
lynx lore.grass underneath my bare, boney feet
heat lightning splicing through the air,
hot, & thick, & buzzing
summer nights,
feeling good about the fact that:
you don't know how I love Run the Jewels,
I didn't get them from you
&, you don't know what I thought in that van, but I do
&, I am trying to forgive you
but, here I am dancing, & lonely, & not
here I am unshaven legs & ten shades of I don't give a fuck
here I still love the world, bruises & scars & all
I catch myself breathing,
in four,
out four
so steady, so stretched, so still;
a lynx before the leap
Will I also returnI was young as spring,
and held to autumn's wind
like pomegranates  
in the highest branches,  
before crows hollowed them  
autumn flurries return
with the scent of fallen fruit,
dying leaves
crushed underfoot,  
shelter for next spring

:iconliliwrites: Features by LiliWrites

Throwback ThursdayYou know what I miss?
The simple days
Of aimless buses and trains,
Like magic carpets
That helped us to escape,
If only for a little while.
I miss the endless walks
That led to hours of
Shopping center shenanigans--
Spinning in desk chairs,
Petting that little blind kitten,
And reading anything
From cheesy joke books
To Frost's melancholic verse.
I miss cheap deli lunches,
Discounted coffee house milkshakes, and
Midnight conversations on the swings
At your old elementary school,
With the moon so bright that
I could see your T-shirt.
Remember that time when, hot chocolate in hand,
We followed the sound
Of live fiesta music
Sailing on the hollow winter air
Until we nearly crashed
A Hispanic family's party?
Or what about the moments
Of heartbroken silence
When we discovered
The ruins of a piano
At the church
That was once your daycare?
I remember climbing, barefoot,
Halfway up Ricky's fence
To watch his illegal fireworks
And stealing Mom's car
In the dead of night,
Just for store-bought C
an infinitesimal sibilancea wisp of a whisper
remains in possessions
long after we're gone
perhaps forever
things we create
or build
or just treasure
faint echoes of others
faint echoes of us
still here
llp - dA - oct2013
DD - jun03/2015
StrayMy father
alone in the white, white room.
This place, which is not empty
but emptied
which was my fig leaf, my raison
de fierté

seems small as a crab shell.
Enough for his back,
his hideous grief.
Little else. It is unforgivable
to leave him so little
to leave him, that dark body
in that blinding room.
The Crying Of BirdsI pluck their calls from the sky,
Stuff them into my pocket like so many marbles.
Sometimes I cast them on the ground
And like runes they advise me,
Nudge me about things I already know.
Afterwards I’ll scoop them up and in cupped hands
Breathe gently into a cave of skin.
Then there will be music.
en routemy body is the
abandoned bank
on main street;
my body is the
burnt hull of an
apartment complex
only now in repair;
my body is a
feeling of shame,
a pungent rot,
a score of roadkill
in half decay.
my body is migratory:
a flock of wearied birds,
a search for belonging,
the fat on my hips.
with too few windows
and a steep indoor climb,
my body is home.
LokiWe are born in pain, all of us. When that first breath of oxygen touches our lungs and it tastes of fire in our bodies, it is then we are known to be alive – screaming our indignation that this is the life we've been brought into, that this is how the world will greet us. With suffering. I was no different, whimpering softly, stunned at the sensation in my infant body, wondering why it must be that my entrance to this life hurt. It was only appropriate, then, that my birth as a god was through agony.
Sometimes, when walking home after dark, I'd play this scenario through in my head. I was raised to believe I'd be attacked by men. I knew how I kept the mace in the front pocket of my purse, although I'd been too timid to take the lid off and figure out how to actually use it. I was reckless in my disregard, knowing full well what I'd been taught growing up, and then discarding it the next moments with only the outside illusion of playing by the rules. Instead, I saw in my head what
HeadwatersAlmost 30.
Where did I sleep the decade away?
Under a desk.
In a factory.
Stone frozen in the cascades.
I fell prey to cow songs,
the nightly lowing.
Some christ called me back.
Not my sister in red canyons,
not my cousin
or the thick gumbo of my youth.
Nor did the
honeysuckles trill me
                   my lover, I woke to find you
At first when I heard you
it was a mosquito in my ear.
You called.
You called and called and
you were waiting
down in the well
three paces from
the patio door.
The bucket and rope
I threw down in front of me,
Pulley and rod tossed
into the tall Bermuda grass.
I have jumped into
              the water,
  the rich black earth.
And from there
can be no ascent.
WaitingThe summer of ‘67, funerals fanned out
like a poker hand in Mother’s family.
You could see she'd waited a lifetime
for this one, black dress in plastic,
handkerchief ironed and folded, ready.
She forced herself to touch the badge,
the service revolver he'd used, his Stetson,
sweat-stained on a hook in the hall.
She would conjure everything in time,
enough to rise above the casseroles,
the Jello salads melting in our kitchen,
hoarded tears poised above the glare
of Tupperware and Avon calling.
It was in the way she held her mouth,
her breath, waiting for something beautiful.
A childhood ago, summer nights,
her skin had prickled at the crunch of gravel,
his boots, hard across the floor,
the smells - leather, cigar smoke,
Macallan on his breath.
A five-year old wears innocence like iron
and a paper crown, shedding glitter.
She'd filled herself with crickets' song,
flown with fireflies beyond the glass,
as she waited for something beautiful.
Monsanto CafeHe looked up from his chemistry notes to see her staring at him intently from across the table. She sat with her hands clasped around a cup of dandelion tea, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning bright red over the white china rim.
“Do you ever stop and think,” she said, slowly and purposefully, “that you could have been a binder?”
He looked down at the binder in his hands. She’d been staring at his notes, not at him. “Sorry, what?” he said, slightly annoyed.
“Just think. Your body is made of billions of atoms. What was the probability those exact atoms would come together to make you?”
“Your point being?”
She sipped pensively at her tea. “Well, what if something had happened? The chances those atoms would get like this –” she jabbed a finger at him “– right here, right now, were amazingly small. One mishap and they could have become anything else. You could have been a dog, an asteroi
jerichoshe must have dreamed him,
assembled of slow pieces
that clutched
and called in the dark
she is a temple
and he is dismantling her
with chorused glories
that terrace and
he bleeds desire,
an ache to sculpt her;
a curse born of ruin,
a silence crafted sharp
in flickered glances
and in flame.
she must have known him,
borne witness as he
stormed and conquered
with shadows rampant
at his back
and she must have seen him
behind shut eyes;
not as he will be
nor as he is,
but as she
would have him;
arching hallelujahs
under the domes
of her doomed
The Gap - Page 38 by Peris-Productions MercyI don't want to die.
No one does, I suppose. It's a natural human instinct to keep on living. But that doesn't stop the hands of fate. The hands that, as soon as their cold fingertips brush against your skin, you're gone.
The hands of the ones they call Angels.
They aren't real angels. Real angels don't exist. Just as God doesn't exist. There are no benevolent beings with crystalline white wings and halos burning with heavenly fire - there is no supreme existence sitting on a golden throne watching from above. Not anymore, at least. If they ever did exist then we killed them long ago and as punishment, the universe created the Angels that we know now.
It was an accident. As are most things these days. Three hundred and then some years ago, back when people still went to church and prayed to whatever deity they had conjured up in their minds, it happened. The stories say it was a joint effort of an elite handful of scientists gathered from around the world. They had meant well; s

Want to suggest a Daily Deviation?

Send a link or thumbcode of the deviation you want to suggest via note to the appropriate CV. There is a "6-month rule" which means an artist cannot receive another DD if they have had one in the last 6 months.
FAQ #18: Who selects Daily Deviations and how are they chosen?
FAQ #313: How can I find out if someone already has a Daily Deviation?

Angry AJ by masemj

Applejack - That doesn't look right! by RedPandaPony
"What in the Sam heck're these writers doin'?"

AJ Face by liamwhite1
"Ah could write these characters so much better."

That's what I do when I'm not nervous by Dasprid by grievousfanWhat The Hay?! by EMedina13

Hee Hee! Cupcakes  by Soren-the-Owl_edit by grievousfan:iconemptyspaceplz:AJ's Gettin Real Tired o'Yer Horseapples-Drewdini by grievousfan

There's a what behind me by RedPandaPony by grievousfan:iconemptyspaceplz:AJ's Gettin Real Tired o'Yer Horseapples-Drewdini by grievousfan

Make the time. by Schmuzart
"Hush up and enjoy the show."

Whenever people start bitching about the ponies being "out of character" in the show I just LOL internally. Even more when these same people bitch about the ponies being OOC in fan-made comics.

Like...maybe I'm in the minority here, but I trust the creators of the show to know these characters well enough to portray them "properly". Especially considering that they've been working with them for...what, 102 episodes now?


............I don't know, fans taking cartoon ponies way too seriously is just funny to me :lol:

and oh, the shipping wars. That whole thing I can sum up in one picture;
CRLiterature Journal Header by inknalcohol

It's July!

That means it's both Camp NaNoWriMo and Flash Fiction Month! Huzzah! I, personally, am hoping to complete a revision on a past NaNo novel. We all have goals, and there are lots of ways to go about achieving them. But when it comes to first drafts with deadlines, there are some things you might want to consider, or remember, or just paste on a wall above your desk. Because it's HARD to keep up. There are totally points at which you want to quit, and points where you have no idea what is supposed to happen next, where you feel like you've run out of ideas. BUT. You signed up for this. And I'm holding you to it!

So. Here you go. Pinky's Top Five Survival Tips for Writing Challenges!

1. First drafts suck. 

AndyTheShowMustGoWrong by PinkyMcCoversong

They suck a lot. All of them. Whether you're Nooby McNoobwriter or Stephen King. So give yourself permission to suck. It's okay. You can fix it later.


RonNeverHalfAssTwoThings by PinkyMcCoversong
That's for later. Your goal right now is to crank out some words. You have limited time, so you'd better use that time to make more words instead of going back and fixing, deleting, rewriting. Revision is ESSENTIAL. But you have to get that first draft finished first.

3. Find some folks to hold you accountable. 

LeslieTextMeEvery30Seconds by PinkyMcCoversong

Right here on dA, there are tons of writers participating in Camp NaNo and FFM. So find some buddies. Check in with each other. Challenge each other. and keep each other accountable for these goals you set at the beginning of the month.

4. If you get stuck, try something outrageous.

DonnaTommySurpriseFace by PinkyMcCoversong

Sometimes when I get stuck writing a first draft, I write in a bear attack or an explosion or something. Maybe you could try a crazy prompt that you thought you'd never even touch, write something out of your wheelhouse, or have someone walk into the room with a gun. Surprise yourself! Be fearless!

5. Treat yo' self!

Treatyoselftommy by PinkyMcCoversong

Or...write now fun later. Set daily goals (like your one FFM piece for the day, or your x amount of words for the day), and play afterward. You could also set up something with yourself like "after I meet my goal, I get to binge watch Netflix things for two hours" or "no ice cream until after I finish this FFM piece!" 

There you go. Now get out there and get writing. Because that's how we do at CRLiterature

AndyBurtMacklin by PinkyMcCoversong

Skin by Dan Leveille

Photomanipulation DDs

Wed Jul 1, 2015, 6:26 AM

This is my way for to get the photomanipulations DDs more exposure: 

ART Feature of latest photomanipulation DDs

Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose

Primal by Schwartze
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
when i asked you to stay by xXNamaste
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Snow bringer by Gejda
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Nature plays by Esveeka
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Fight the darkness by Frostie-Spirits
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Handmade by royal-nightmare
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Warrior by IrKos
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
I can feel the change inside by StarsColdNight
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
The Elder Tales by Mihaela-V
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Refuge from a Storm by PaperDreamerArt
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
2146 by Karezoid
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
- Swarth - by blaithiel
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Enjoying Death ! by DARSHSASALOVE
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Evilina. Dead Flower. by Helga-Helleborus
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
The Clash by Manink
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Town near the sea by NM-art
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose
Beneath the Surface by djz0mb13
Daily Deviation Heart by MissLunaRose

Have you all a great day!


An architect on street

Wed Jul 1, 2015, 7:00 AM by JACAC:iconjacac:

Street Photography Week

Hello, my name is José Calheiros, and I am an architect that really loves to take street photos.

I don't like concepts or labels on things, I really think that feelings are the most important thing when we take photos on the street or when we are in the middle of the action or even far away. After that I think composition is very important. My architect genes come out and speak to me saying so, so let's see what I can tell you

I only take one photo of the subject, because that is, for me, the right moment and not the moment after. If the photo is wrong I delete and move away, I was not able to catch it.

When I am ready to go out and take photos, what do I do first?

What i do?
I first choose a lens. Usually I have my 24/70 mm (2.8) but when I travel I also use my 14/24mm (2.8)
My destination is unknown if I am in Lisbon I just go. If I am in a new city, I do my homework and study the best places to take photos (and for sure have the touristic/architectural views that are also important for me).
I am on the street and my eyes and my head are full of things; views, people, colors, smells, feelings about all of this. So I look for a story behind what I see. If I feel I can catch one I don't need to look, the composition comes without any effort and only the speed or the dof need to be changed in a second and a click.
That's easy because I do a lot of photography. Several years ago I worked for a motor racing magazine and I went to the F1 races, Rallies, Moto Gp's so I think fast and that helps me a lot with my street photos, to be able to catch the action.
Sometimes it's not easy, because most of the time you miss THAT perfect moment and it makes all the difference.
As you know, photography has a big personal component and we can think that we got an amazing photo and nobody cares about it. And sometimes you have a normal photo, and everybody likes it, and that I cannot explain.

Maybe it will be easier to show you some of my work and talk about it, so you can understand what I am talking about.
First one is my most "famous" photo, which won several international competitions, was published in magazines, exhibitions and here on DA.
 Friends by JACAC
For me there is no doubt that this is a street photo, but it does not follow the "rules." I am not in the action, I used a 200 mm lens to take it, everything is "wrong" but I think it tells a story, about real friendship, a man and is dog, sharing a sad/poor life, transporting plastic bags with their things inside. The DOF with the blur on the background, the perspective of the trees and the man and the van make the composition work.
Playing outside of the "rules" can make a good street photo in my opinion.

Another unconventional one:
SightSeeing by JACAC
165mm lens in the middle of the square, but I needed all that space to make the composition right.
The bench, the two people, two ways of making tourism, the connection with the electric tram and the word "sightseeing" make the story

And even another
Contrast of... by JACAC
Again, a 135 mm lens, but also again we have a story, about age, attitude, and generations.
For me only the fence in first plan is not right in the composition, but is not possible to take the photo without it.

Going into the "rules" but not at all
 30 degrees Celsius by JACAC
70mm lens, closer to the subject, just in time, the big kiss (30º Celsius).
The table, the glasses show us a meal with wine, it was hot and she couldn't resist kissing him.
In the background a couple is passing by ..."

What to say
Enemy by JACAC
75mm and it looks like a comic character, an Enki Bilal one
The "enemy" ? her or us? Maybe the strange world where we live

And now the opposite
Postcard from NY 17 by JACAC
14mm wide angle, NY subway, a very interesting couple, we can imagine so many stories behind those two... Look at her face looking at him, he is kind of asleep trying to escape =) (Smile)

As you can see we can make all kinds of street photography.
All that is important is your feelings when going out.
Pay attention, there are a lot of stories out there.
Go and catch them!
Surprise us with amazing moments


ProjectPorkchop Vol450

Wed Jul 1, 2015, 11:33 AM

ProjectPorkchop is all about bringing more exposure to the many talented yet under appreciated artists going unseen on deviantART daily. The artists chosen truly deserve more attention based on low counts of favorites, comments, and watchers, added to their incredible artistic talent.


Carlos is a varied artist from Portugal. His art is a beautiful combination of traditional and digital media and really captures the essence of the characters he portrays. His dark color palette and expert shading give his works a wonderful mood. If you are a fan of comic book art, this artist is definitely for you!

Bats by CarlosAmaralArtBallista Blaster by CarlosAmaralArt
Penguin by CarlosAmaralArtDaredevil by CarlosAmaralArt

Suggested by Just-To-Look1 
see more..


Abra is a varied artist from Germany. She has a vibrant and exciting portrait style that is quite exquisite and unique. Her lively brushstrokes give wonderful texture and energy to her work and her creative color choices give insight into the personality of her subjects. This is one artist definitely worth watching!

vintage girl by BatmanBeatTheHellwe all float down here! by BatmanBeatTheHell
Luna by BatmanBeatTheHellAll monsters are human. by BatmanBeatTheHell

Suggested by Just-To-Look1 
see more..


Beatrice is a professional varied artist from Italy. She is a talented conceptual artist with a gallery filled with character designs, paintings and sketches. Her sense of light and shadow is spot on, especially in her black and white paintings. This is one artist you will definitely want to add to your list! 

Amiri - Pathfinder by BiPiCadoJasper Irinka in Mucha style by BiPiCado
Merisiel from Pathfinder by BiPiCadoCormalene Erinyes by BiPiCado

Suggested by lovelessdevotions 
see more..


Raymond is a professional digital artist from Germany. His style is mostly geared towards children's storybook art and is packed with wonderful details. His storytelling is entertaining and his characters are well developed and convey emotion really well. Please stop by Raymond's gallery today and don't forget to leave a comment!

09 Le petit gris by Messiah972houte houte by Messiah972
Guardian of the forest by Messiah972Cover by Messiah972

Suggested by lovelessdevotions 
see more..


Valery is an artist from Russia and a member of DA for two months. Her digital works are magnificent and very action packed. Her brilliant special effects are truly something to marvel at and you will be inspired by every piece in her stunning gallery! Please stop by her page today and welcome her to the community!

pirate by ValeryNeithRebel by ValeryNeith
the witcher 3 fan art by ValeryNeithMorrigan Taro by ValeryNeith

Suggested by lovelessdevotions 
see more..

If you enjoyed this article please be sure to :+fav: it, as this helps these artists get even more exposure.

If you would like to suggest someone for a future ProjectPorkchop article please send a note to our group:


Previous issues of PPc

Vol01 / Vol02 / Vol03 / Vol04 / Vol05 / Vol06 / Vol07 / Vol08 / Vol09 / Vol10 / Vol11 / Vol12 / Vol13 / Vol14 / Vol15 / Vol16 / Vol17 / Vol18 / Vol19 / Vol20 / Vol21 / Vol22 / Vol23 / Vol24 / Vol25 / Vol26 / Vol27 / Vol28 / Vol29 / Vol30 / Vol31 / Vol32 / Vol33 / Vol34 / Vol35 / Vol36 / Vol37 / Vol38 / Vol39 / Vol40 / Vol41 / Vol42 / Vol43 / Vol44 / Vol45 / Vol46 / Vol47 / Vol48 / Vol49 / Vol50 / Vol51 / Vol52 / Vol53 / Vol54 / Vol55 / Vol56 / Vol57 / Vol58 / Vol59 / Vol60 / Vol61 / Vol62 / Vol63 / Vol64 / Vol65 / Vol66 / Vol67 / Vol68 / Vol69 / Vol70 / Vol71 / Vol72 / Vol73 / Vol74 / Vol75 / Vol76 / Vol77 / Vol78 / Vol79 / Vol80 / Vol81 / Vol82 / Vol83 / Vol84 / Vol85 / Vol86 / Vol87 / Vol88 / Vol89 / Vol90 / Vol91 / Vol92 / Vol93 / Vol94 / Vol95 / Vol96 / Vol97 / Vol98 / Vol99 / Vol100 / Vol101 / Vol102 / Vol103 / Vol104 / Vol105 / Vol106 / Vol107 / Vol108 / Vol109 / Vol110 / Vol111 / Vol112 / Vol113 / Vol114 / Vol115 / Vol116 / Vol117 / Vol118 / Vol119 / Vol120 / Vol121 / Vol122 / Vol123 / Vol124 / Vol125 / Vol126 / Vol127 / Vol128 / Vol129 / Vol130 / Vol131 / Vol132 / Vol133 / Vol134 / Vol135 / Vol136 / Vol137 / Vol138 / Vol139 / Vol140 / Vol141 / Vol142 / Vol143 / Vol144 / Vol145 / Vol146 / Vol147 / Vol148 / Vol149 / Vol150 / Vol151 / Vol152 / Vol153 / Vol154 / Vol155 / Vol156 / Vol157 / Vol158 / Vol159 / Vol160 / Vol161 / Vol162 / Vol163 / Vol164 / Vol165 / Vol166 / Vol167 / Vol168 / Vol169 / Vol170 / Vol171 / Vol172 / Vol173 / Vol174 / Vol175 / Vol176 / Vol177 / Vol178 / Vol179 / Vol180 / Vol181 / Vol182 / Vol183 / Vol184 / Vol185 / Vol186 / Vol187 / Vol188 / Vol189 / Vol190 / Vol191 / Vol192 / Vol193 / Vol194 / Vol195 / Vol196 / Vol197 / Vol198 / Vol199 / Vol200 / Vol201 / Vol203 / Vol204 / Vol205 / Vol206 / Vol207 / Vol208 / Vol209 / Vol210 / Vol211 / Vol212 / Vol213 / Vol214 / Vol215 / Vol216 / Vol217 / Vol218 / Vol219 / Vol220 / Vol221 / Vol222 / Vol223 / Vol224 / Vol225 / Vol226 / Vol227 / Vol228 / Vol229 / Vol230 / Vol231 / Vol232 / Vol233 / Vol234 / Vol235 / Vol236 / Vol237 / Vol238 / Vol239 / Vol240 / Vol241 / Vol242 / Vol243 / Vol244 / Vol245 / Vol246 / Vol247 / Vol248 / Vol249 / Vol250 / Vol251 / Vol252 / Vol253 / Vol254 / Vol255 / Vol256 / Vol257 / Vol258 / Vol259 / Vol260 / Vol261 / Vol262 / Vol263 / Vol264 / Vol265 / Vol266 / Vol267 / Vol268 / Vol269 / Vol270 / Vol271 / Vol272 / Vol273 / Vol274 / Vol275 / Vol276 / Vol277 / Vol278 / Vol279 / Vol280 / Vol281 / Vol282 / Vol283 / Vol284 / Vol285 / Vol286 / Vol287 / Vol288 / Vol289 / Vol290 / Vol291 / Vol292 / Vol293 / Vol294 / Vol295 / Vol296 / Vol297 / Vol298 / Vol299 / Vol300 / Vol301 / Vol302 / Vol303 / Vol304 / Vol305 / Vol306 / Vol307 / Vol308 / Vol309 / Vol310 / Vol311 / Vol312 / Vol313 / Vol314 / Vol315 / Vol316 / Vol317 / Vol318 / Vol319 / Vol320 / Vol321 / Vol322 / Vol323 / Vol324 / Vol325 / Vol326 / Vol327 / Vol328 / Vol329 / Vol330 / Vol331 / Vol332 / Vol333 / Vol334 / Vol335 / Vol336 / Vol337 / Vol338 / Vol339 / Vol340 / Vol341 / Vol342 / Vol343 / Vol344 / Vol345 / Vol346 / Vol347 / Vol348 / Vol349 / Vol350 / Vol351 / Vol352 / Vol353 / Vol354 / Vol355 / Vol356 / Vol357 / Vol358 / Vol359 / Vol360 / Vol361 / Vol362 / Vol363 / Vol364 / Vol365 / Vol366 / Vol367 / Vol368 / Vol369 / Vol370 / Vol371 / Vol372 / Vol373 / Vol374 / Vol375 / Vol376 / Vol377 / Vol378 / Vol379 / Vol380 / Vol381 / Vol382 / Vol383 / Vol384 / Vol385 / Vol386 / Vol387 / Vol388 / Vol389 / Vol390 / Vol391 / Vol392 / Vol393 / Vol394 / Vol395 / Vol396 / Vol397 / Vol398 / Vol399 / Vol400 / Vol401 / Vol402 / Vol403 / Vol404 / Vol405 / Vol406 / Vol407 / Vol408 / Vol409 / Vol410 / Vol411 / Vol412 / Vol413 / Vol414 / Vol415 / Vol416 / Vol417 / Vol418 / Vol419 / Vol420 / Vol421 / Vol422 / Vol423 / Vol424 / Vol425 / Vol426 / Vol427 / Vol428 / Vol429 / Vol430 / Vol431 / Vol432 / Vol433 / Vol434 / Vol435 / Vol436 / Vol437 / Vol438 / Vol439 / Vol440 / Vol441 / Vol442 / Vol443 / Vol444 /

Coding by SimplySilent

Oh Canada

Wed Jul 1, 2015, 7:07 AM
Maple Double Exposure by TheFloorHugger
Canadian Icon by mvlaniel
Canada by EhrenThibs Captain Canada stands on guard for thee by Dark-Templar-Knight
From Canada...With Love by Violet-Kleinert Team Canada by 8TwilightAngel8
Royal Canadian Mounted Police by pcellis
Canada Day Collaboration by IchirooishI Canadian Imperialism... by carts
O Canada by pugglemuggle
Niagara Falls at night by Nightline
Spirit Island - Part V by AgilePhotography Daydream by jaelise
Along the Highway by Mac-Wiz Moose by BrettAZimmerman
Ever Changing Skyline by CanadianRy Canola Field 3 Picture Panorama by Joe-Lynn-Design
Hoodoo You Think You Are Fish-Eye by BrettAZimmerman Edmonton by slickwilly182
Colored houses by Lady-Lilith0666 Hopewell Scenery VI v2 - HDR by somadjinn
Pont Jacques Cartier Montreal by vfrrich The Wharf HDR Newfoundland by Witch-Dr-Tim
Newfoundland by jsgoupil
Prospect, Nova Scotia by tranquil-anarchy
Nova Scotia by chronictonic Nova Scotia Harbor by rooze23
Prince Edward Island, Canada by tilenti PEI II - HDR by somadjinn
Beautiful Winnipeg Skyline by Joe-Lynn-Design
Squatec by Stygma Athabasca Glacier 2 by BrettAZimmerman
Crawling out by gigi50 Happy Canada Day by gigi50
Secluded Horseshoe lake by gigi50 Bath time by gigi50
Long time ago by gigi50 Peyto Lake by gigi50 Say whattt by gigi50
X does mark the spot by gigi50 
:iconcanadaheartplz:Crazy Canadian Fun by gigi50 :iconcanadaheartplz:

 © CSS JMTH/poserfan
  • Mood: Love
  • Listening to: News
  • Eating: Toast and coconut oil
  • Drinking: Coffee and Chocolate wine

Themed Feature: Summer is comming

Tue Jun 30, 2015, 10:29 PM by Shadowelve:iconshadowelve:

Hello everyone :wave:

SkyAndNatureClub proudly presents a brand-new feature of our themed feature series! This time we want to honour artworks based on the premise Summer is comming, submitted from 17th June to 1st July.

There will be a new feature every week on wednesday alternating a themed feature and a feature for the under-appreciated artworks. To be featured, please make sure to submit your works to the right folder that can be found in the group's favourites-section here. Further informations concerning the new feature series can be found in this journal! The current timetable for the next features can be found here.
Not yet a member of the group? Have a look at our Blog and feel free to join!

And now enjoy the art! :la:

Ease of Summer by thedaydreaminggirl

Interesting Leaf by EveVictus Orange Flower by ShadowDreamer1

Golden Sunset 3 by firenze-design

Follow Me Through Here by epicninja88 Rugosas in Ithaca by xDx Summer Is Here. by LiveLongButLOL

Summer Bloom by WillTC

Simplicity by Gaalh-way Close Up 5 by MK-NI a day one the lake by linedal

Feed me! by Shadow-Amethyst13

Summer's Diet by Egil21 Purple Top by puppydogbonz

Trzmiel by rosaarvensis

Magnolia In Bloom by Lust0fADeeperPain Tranquillity by Cheese-O

Breathing color by Mogrianne

Warme Sommerbrise. by dragonfly-oli Springtime by John-Peter

Lavender by Rubengda

Wishfully by DragonflyAndromeda In a Field of Flowers by Heidi-V-Art

Baltic sea by 666GirL666

Beaver river sunset by Antz0 interlace by Kostandina

The Wandering Ladybug by dandelion-field

Summer Evening by ferrohanc  Butterfly portrait by AlejandroCastillo Summer Dance by Unkopierbar

Tell me your favourite colour by A2Matos

sunny by blueimagination Terminus by cdpstudios

desert starshine by MadMike27

Trio by Delariz Dumbraveanca by RichardConstantinoff

Warmth on Vitosha by Pipera

Unfortunately we aren't able to feature each and every of the submitted works. For more awesome art have a look at this folder! Thanks for understanding.

NewNewNew The topic of the next themed feature is "Facets of the sky". If you want to be featured, please submit your works until the 15th July to THIS folder!

Keep up your good works!
And to everyone else: Hope to see you around soon :wave:
:heart: Shadowelve for SkyAndNatureClub

Previous Features
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Colorful
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Animals and Invertebrates
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Spring is coming
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Close-ups
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Trees & Plants
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Landscapes
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Shades of Blue
Themed Feature: Autumn
:bulletblack: Themed Feature: Holiday, Christmas, Winter

The Muses Love Alternatives, CXLIII

Journal Entry: Wed Jul 1, 2015, 8:23 AM

Peace by Avine    loneliness by Batsceba

Nature Vs. Nurture No.6 by kparks    your face behind the dots by scheinbar

Postcard from Istanbul 01a by JACAC    Motherland Chronicles #29 - Lyle by zemotion

Dragon by kparks

Thanks for stopping by.

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