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PE: Seniority, What Does It Mean?

Fri Feb 27, 2015, 4:00 AM by Astralseed:iconastralseed:

Senior Week

Seniority on DeviantArt is that cool thing that gives a user a pretty medal next to their username. Today I'd like to shine a bit of light on what seniority actually means.

Before we dive into all of this though I'd like to start out by quoting FAQ #29: How do I become a Senior Member?

"So what does it take to become a Senior? That's a question many have asked and have never really been able to get a straight answer on. Some have gained Seniority as a thank you for their time spent as a Volunteer, or to recognize their contribution to a particular project or collaborative action. Some have gained Seniority because of their community spirit, providing help and assistance to many other deviants and taking time out to promote the work of others in the community.
Some people have received Seniority because of their artistic endeavour, having a positive influence on their peers by sharing resources, providing constructive criticism and by being a voice that stands out above the many others who deviate to be recognized in the crowd."

Over the years there has been much debate over seniority in general, and within those debates you'll often find many different opinions in regards to what seniority is and/or should be.  With this in mind I asked my watchers for their input, which can be read in full here, and gave them the following questions to answer.  


What do you feel Seniority means on DeviantArt?


Seniority, to me, has always meant that the user has done something to make them stand out in the crowd - be it as an exemplary artist, a community leader/supporter, an educator, or someone who's made contributions to DeviantArt as a network or a company. It's not an end-all be-all status, or a "top of the mountain" sort of achievement. It's more of an accreditation of our efforts by site staff, I guess.


I feel like seniority is a super high honor that takes a lot of work to achieve, it's one of my goals to one day receive that honor but I feel like it would never happen.


I'm not sure, because one one hand I'd like to say its the people who help out with the community and have high quality art, and are generally well liked and respected and deserve a way to commemorate that, but we all know that isn't true. It seems to be a sign of an important voice and opinions that should be listened to, and people that we regular users and supposed to respect. However considering there are quite a few completely rude, hateful, untalented and arrogant seniors, I'm not really sure what we are supposed to think seniority means at all. Maybe its people who the staff like, or people willing to take up for da staff's decisions.  


I think it should mean that the member has demonstrated a love of the community consistently, that they interact with other deviants, and that they consistently try to uplift the other members of the community. I think it means that the member in question has shown that they have a true love for :dalogo:, despite any problems it may have, and would rather work towards an amicable solution in the community than to insult and belittle the staff for their efforts - even when they disagree with them. Because, as seniors, they know that the best way to solve the problems they have with the site is to approach them with the intent to resolve them rather than to approach them with belligerence - anger is rarely effective in swaying someone of an opposite opinion.

As we can see there is some diversity in regards to what people feel Seniority actually means.  It is my belief that the diversity stems from the fact that seniority is granted for so many different things, and that there is a plethora of personalities to be found within the senior members, that it's simply difficult to pinpoint its meaning in any one way.  


Do you expect Seniors on dA to act a certain way? If so, in what way?


I expect seniors to act exactly how they'd act if they weren't seniors. Even if that means not being active in the community or being a voice of dissent rather than support, it just shows how diverse of a group we are! There are over 1400 senior members onsite, and there's no need any of us should be held to a higher standard than a regular user. I didn't sign some new terms of service when I got my seniority. I expect to be disciplined for the same things I would have been discliplined for before. Nothing more, nothing less.


I expect them to be very kind and supportive of everyone, even those who have bad art.


I just expect them to be themselves and not pretend to be nice or be the person they're not. I saw some of them acting too nice that they appear all fake, I feel like they're wearing a mask and hiding their true being. They often say things the way others want to hear. Nobody is obliged to express the way others expect to see. Everyone, no matter which symbol they have, must feel free to express and say the things the way they feel like to.


I used to think seniors might be more polite because of their higher status or at least more helpful for the community but nowadays when I see seniors that I don't personally know I expect some sort of holier than thou attitude and a fare share of deviantart elitism. Seniors come in strong cliques and have a ways about them that gives off a "I'm better than you" attitude. It's easy to get frustrated with people you are, for some reason beyond me, expected to have respect for, when they are arguably notoriously rude and elitist.


I answered part of that above. :D But, I expect them to be willing to stand up for themselves and others, to be willing to listen to both sides of an argument, and to speak their minds in a civil way. (I'm specifically thinking of something I saw over a year ago on a site update where the "senior member" acted with exactly the same level of childishness as everyone else who decided that denigrating the staff was an appropriate response to address something they didn't like about a change.)
I would expect to see a senior member leaving comments not only on the most wonderful works of the site, but also on those which need some improvement from those individuals who shoe potential. Obviously I don't expect that they would waste time on those who just throw up whatever all over the site, but those users who actually share their pieces with the hope of improving their skills and growing as artists.

This is a wonderful example of how different the views in regard to senior expectations can be.  Since there are no real requirements to follow once one has been seniored, placing specific expectations onto them is naturally a bit unfair.  

However, if the community views seniority as a status rather than an award, it only makes sense that the community might have expectations from seniors.  Perhaps something that warrants further thought?


Do you know any Seniors?


I know... a lot of senior members. Probably over a thousand on a username basis, and several hundred on a first-name basis. Some from the founding days of the site, some staff members from across the years, some community types, some artists who just inspired the community enough to get noticed. I also suggest a lot of seniors regularly - everyone should suggest people who should become seniors! It's a great way to show people who inspire you on the large scale that the site appreciates them and what they do.


I do! I KNOW MYSELF, BRO! :giggle: But really, I do know a lot of seniors now that I am one. I did not know a ton of seniors before being made one. Maybe seniors are a little cliquey :noes: Also, the seniors I know are generally the ones who are active on dAmn chats. I don't see many seniors outside of chats.


I do, and the ones I know are amazing deviants. My senior friends are what I think seniority should be, and probably what people new to DA assume seniority is - well liked users that are welcoming to new members, active members of the community, friendly and talented artists. (and no I don't mean "hugboxes", I just mean approachable and easy to talk to) However, I only have gotten to know a small number of seniors, and my closest senior friend I knew before they were even a senior. I like only knowing a few of them because most of them that I've interacted with I'd like to stay away from. The senior friends I have are wonderful - and not an accurate reflection of the senior community as a whole.


Only in passing. I don't know any of them well enough to say, "Hey, I know them!" and I'd definitely never be able to win lintu47's game. But, I do see them actively about the community, especially in groups that are geared towards promoting community endeavors (dAWishingWell, All-about-features, ArtInOurHeart). This is a two-way street, though. I didn't meet any seniors - or CVs - and I would never have left commentary on a staff member's work - until recently. Seniors, like community volunteers, are here for the :dalove:, so it's a matter of "coming out of the shell" and actually communicating with them. I feel that the reason I didn't know any seniors before wasn't because they were unapproachable, but because I'm a bit of an introvert and didn't make the effort to step out of my box. wink

It is indeed very true that seniors can be cliquey, though that may be because most seniors share the same love for involvement in the community, and as a result see and talk to each other regularly and know each other well.  
Generally speaking, seniors don't usually exclude others for their lack of status on DeviantArt.

Many seniors are quite approachable and don't bite, okay.. maybe a few nibble a little bit.  It's okay to reach out to a senior for help, most of us are happy to help when we can.  Just bear in mind that not all seniors are cute and cuddly (just like any type of user) so it's best to approach those who you see engaging others with positivity.    


 Do you have any other thoughts to add about Seniority on DeviantArt?


Seniority comes with some great perks, and added notability, but it's not something you should use to gauge whether you've been successful or appreciated on DeviantArt. It's a big group of users with a lot of diverse experiences and journeys on the site, and there are no set criteria. Don't make it something you need to have to validate your existence on DA. And don't get too mad if you see inactive seniors. Sometimes we're doing crazy things behind the scenes, and sometimes seniors are gone from the site for reasons that you'd not want them to lose their status over. I wrote an editorial about it a while back - A Senior's Rant - that might be worth a read. I guess the big message is: We're users just like you, at the end of the day.


I think it's an "ok" thing to give out but I don't think it has any meaningful impact on reputation or perception, at least, not as far as I'm concerned - I treat everybody the same (with respect and manners) unless given reason otherwise. Seems fair :shrug:
Maybe you guys should get slightly different coloured comment boxes or something, to make your interactions stand out more than just a symbol by your name? It doesn't seem enough for what you've done and no doubt have endured.


I think it's important for the community to understand what seniority is. I know it's tough because there are no set rules about what one has to do to gain seniority, but nonetheless it's important. Generally, seniors are given the tick/medal because of their contributions to the community as a CV, staff member, artwork, or community spirit. While there are currently no guidelines for seniors on how to behave... I don't think it would hurt for such guidelines to exist. If a senior member has a problem with being approachable then I don't think they deserve the medal. Seniors should be role models and set a good example for other community members to step up and be active, contributing members as well.  


I think the values of seniority are something every deviant should aspire to (leadership, community service, responsibility), but I don't think people should get too worked up about attaining the status.  People should and can be "seniors" even if they don't have a badge next to their name :)

    I think all that needs to be said here has mostly been covered.  DanielleMWilliams makes a particularly important point, that is worth taking to heart if you're striving towards seniority on DeviantArt.  

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Daily Lit Recognition for February 26th, 2015

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Recognition!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.  
Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!


Suggested by: toxic--sunrise
Featured by: TwilightPoetess
53 by brittlejacks

This visual poetry piece explores what it really means to be an artist--and the shame that often accompanies an artistic block.

Featured by: AyeAye12 

Poems in critique of the internet are cliched to the point of decomposition, but Dylan manages to write with a precision on the level of professional poets.


Featured by: Naktarra

The narrator needs your help, because he's not a bad man, he can't be...

Suggested by: VFreie
Featured by: Naktarra
Sword LessonThe visiting sifu drew his blade and steadied it in front of him, his chest perpendicular to the class line.
"Perhaps one of the most important things to know about studying the blade in ninjutsu is that you are not here to look good. The blade is not a showy weapon, it has one purpose only and that is to kill. Ninjutsu is only about taking as many strikes as are neessary to kill, and kill swiftly. When you practice with the blade, you must be prepared to accept that truth."
The class, full of beginners like myself, was silent. Up until this workshop, we had been practicing an American mixed martial art. It was what this sifu would call showy and unecessary. The green belt ahead of me fidgeted, either with anticipation or anxiety, I didn't know. He was younger than me but had been practicing longer.
The sifu let the silence hang in the room as he brought his blade up and he stared forward.
"You will not be successful with the ninja blade if you do not accept this, and enter every stanc

Suggester says: A short non-fiction piece about martial arts that hits hard with truth.

For more information, including how to suggest a Deviation 
to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitRecognition.

Thanks so much for supporting the lit community and this project!

~ The DailyLitRecognition Team ~

Prepared by: chromeantennae

Skin by SimplySilent
This monthly project aims to showcase the six word stories that you find awesome!

At the beginning of the month, we asked you to choose your top three favourite six word stories from this folder. Firstly, many thanks to these people who participated:
:iconundertheraptures: :iconsecret-ninja-super-m: :iconsrsmith: :iconlalaith913: :icontomcranham: :iconhosagu: :icondajenniferie: :iconrevrun14: :iconamethystvixen: :iconmissmaddox: :icondrowning-poppies: :iconxxxataktoulaxxx: :iconbattlefairies: :iconvivafariy: :iconragemoon: :iconmissvirginia: :iconmalintra-shadowmoon:

The results were quite scattered! However, there was one piece that was the most liked, which will be shown on our front page for a month!

Congratulations to...

tragedy"I love you!"  "I loved you."  
XXXataktoulaXXX said, "It's sad and yet so beautiful for such a short piece of literature."

AmethystVixen said, "This one is exactly what the title says: tragic. The words we long to hear, followed by the ones we dread."

dajenniferie said, "Sigh, so true."

hosagu said, "A deep and simple efficient way to illustrate how delicate, complex, often painful are love matters..."

TomCranham said, "Full of heartache, loss, and I think love."

lalaith913 said, "It's hard to say which is more significant to the second half of the piece: the missing exclamation point or the -ed at the end of love, but the small changes have a huge impact."

SRSmith said, "How many times does one party in a relationship show up after the other one has already left? There's evidence of an earlier heartbreak here, and the promise of one freshly broken."

Other popular ones were...

Proof"I can't die!"
"Oh? ...Prove it."

Ragemoon said, "A lovely conversation that I can totally see happening. It is one of those conversations that people have from time to time. Which is what makes this conversation so strange, tragic and well funny."

BATTLEFAIRIES said, "Achievement obtained: absurd mental images. Kek"

RevRun14 said, "Because it really is the only thing that a hero needs to say to a villain in order to win."

Malintra-Shadowmoon said, "Scientists always need a proof for everything, even if they cannot proof the opposite."

ThiefOne day, you stole my heart.
Ragemoon said, "I think all of us have felt this one about another human being. There is so much truth in the words that it hits like truth."

AmethystVixen said, "I love this one so much. It leaves me wondering if the narrator sees his/her missing heart as a good thing or a bad thing."

TomCranham said, "It drew me in, making me want more; who, what, why?"

SECRET-NINJA-SUPER-M said, "It seems simple, but hints at a much bigger story."

Surviving, not living.

VivaFariy said, "There were a lot of views on life and death this month, but this one was the deepest to me. The essence I see is the existing, survivng, and being alive is not living. Living is joy, and benefitting from life. Surviving is breathing in and out - physically being alive. Beautiful expression of the truth."

lalaith913 said, "It's a piece that is far-reaching in it's simpleness. It's how 99% of us live our lives, just waking up and existing rather than ever living."

Malintra-Shadowmoon said, "Truly "spoken": When you survive and you are alive, you are not really living."

Anonymous said, "It hits me hard because the amount of truth in such a limited word count really is affective. It really is a brilliant way to express that feeling of being dead yet still breathing."

A six word story on: Death.Things my father hates: Hospitals, chapels.
MissMaddox said, "This story is very well done; it's very specific yet also open to your imagination."

Missvirginia said, "I found this to be a little humorous since eventually, the father will have to face one or both of these places like many people. :giggle: Often, hospitals have chapels inside them, so that also tickled me."

Anonymous said, "It's funny and some people would agree it's a true state"

Anonymous said, "I guess I looked at it as a progression, the father obviously dying in the hospital then going to a chapel for the funeral. The twist is that the man hates those two places and you don't know if he does because he only saw them when dying/dead, or if he did beforehand and is now forced there against his (lack of) will."

DinnerPhilosopy ate fairytales; then puked mythology.
MissMaddox said, "An ingenious idea that was perfectly phrased; I really enjoyed it."

TomCranham said, "Clever, in my opinion witty and with a great sense of humour!"

Anonymous said, "I think this is brilliant!"

Anonymous said, "Its a unique outlook on mythology, which is one of my favorite topics, and it is a slightly gruesome outlook as well, if you picture them all as living figures. It by itself is like something out of a myth."

In the kitchen"Why are you gagging?"
                      "You cooked."

RevRun14 said, "This applies to my own life a lot and its someone that everyone has to undergo at some point in their life"

dajenniferie said, "xD yes, this is totally the case with my dad!"

Missvirginia said, "This has some comedic value. I would love to hear more the relationship between these two characters based on this little exchange."

Anonymous said, "This one is visual to me and I like the sentence formation."

A truthTo live,
I had to die.

dajenniferie said, "Sigh; again, so true."

hosagu said, "'A Truth' echoes in me since facing closely death, feeling like dying, but then alive. And my life is not anymore like before this event..."

lalaith913 said, "I think of it as the inevitable rite of passage that comes from being somewhere new: you have to give up something about yourself to fit in."

SRSmith said, "It's not an uncommon belief that in order to build something new, one has to burn everything else to the ground. This is an ending and a beginning, closure and a clean slate; this is truly a truth."

Never BetterLines fading,
her pulse ends.

BATTLEFAIRIES said, "Played the Innocence Card, damn you!"

SRSmith said, "In five words we see the life of a woman end, there's no description of her, but we feel the tragedy of the loss, and then 'mommy'. This isn't just a woman, it's a mother leaving a child still young enough to call her 'mommy', the question mark drives the loss right through the heart."

SECRET-NINJA-SUPER-M said, "The emotional impact of the last line is both painful and wonderful."

Brain ActivityKeep the blood.
It's useless anyway.

MissMaddox said, "My first thoughts were of cut family ties, so it brought out a good bit of emotion in me; it's a wonderfully executed piece."

XXXataktoulaXXX said, "I find this brilliant."

AmethystVixen said, "This story, to me, shows someone who's just given up, and they don't even want what is so vital to life, what keeps them alive, back."

As for our raffle, the lucky winner is... Ragemoon!

Congratulations Ragemoon, one of your six word stories will be shown alongside the winning piece on our front page for a month!

That is it for this month, but may this act as encouragement for you to write your six word stories and submit them into this folder! Submissions are automatically approved into the folder, and you are allowed to post five pieces a month!

:note: If your piece was not featured above and you would like to know what people said about your piece, please note 3wyl privately.

Thank you! :love:
Divider II by RBSRdesigns

DevNews Interview Series #3 ~ Today we welcome GrimFace242 one of the Community Volunteers for the Literature gallery, a Senior Mentor and admin to eleven groups! Take a seat, have a toasty beverage to take away the winter chill (or frosty beverage in warmer climates!) and prepare to be entertained. [MMD emoticon] Miku on a chair 

devID by GrimFace242

Raving Slendy by GrimFace242 FocusOnLit Header by GrimFace242 CRLiterature Journal Header by GrimFace242

Divider II by RBSRdesigns

Q~1: DeviantArt  You're nearing five-years on deviantART. What brought you to the site?

That makes me feel old.  I remember joining and being lost because I had no idea where to start.  I was actually forced into joining by my cousin.  She was like that.  Always making me do things I didn't want to but then loved after it was forced on me.  :eyes:

Q~2: :dAlove: What is a day on deviantART like for you?

Lots and lots of clicking and typing.  I'm always going through my messages and group messages.  It almost seems like I do that more than creating things.  I always have my trusty 'to do' list on me to try and keep me on track.

Q~3: Heart Dance - NaNo28 Being a CV can be a positive experience, but at the same time, can be stressful or frustrating. What is it like to be a volunteer for dA?

I wasn't sure about myself being a CV.  Honestly.  But I like to think I've embraced it and I do really enjoy it.  Sure there are times I just wanna throw the papers in the air and walk away grumbling.  But those times are few and far between compared to all the awesome messages I get from deviants and new friendships I've garnered since being a CV.

Q~4: :reading: Your focus is literature, not just as a volunteer but as it pertains to your gallery. What motivates you to write? Do you set aside time each day to write or do you write whenever you feel a story or poem brewing in your head? 

I don't get a chance to sit in front of my laptop every day and write.  I've tried it.  It doesn't work for me.  But I long hand nearly every day.  I have a bunch of journals that I'm always jotching ideas in or plots or characters and their histories.  When I can't write it, my brain is always working it.  I've been a daydreamer for ...well, I can't remember a time when I wasn't.  It's a wonderful escape.  I'm always creating, even if it's not written down.  

What motivates me?  The world.  People.  Ones I know and most I don't.  I love sitting in the middle of a park and watching people and then jotting down their story through my eyes.

Q~5: deviantART Groups  You admin 11 groups, most of them literature groups. Please tell us about each one including how each group serves the literature community.

Holy moly.  It sounds crazy when you say it like that.  Eleven groups.  Nuh uh.  :giggle:

BeACritic is a group that was formed from the critique challenges I started over a year ago.  It's a pretty basic idea.  Submit three thumbcodes and get a feature journal requesting critique and feedback on those deviations.  Originally, we only accepted literature, but we've expanded and allow all forms of art in the door now.  It's not a huge group, but it's definitely a project I love and wish it got more participation.

Beta-Readers is the group that's been on my list the longest.  I joined there after being on dA about six months.  The lovely MeganLawler94 talked thorns into bringing me onto the team and I've been there ever since.  We do admin pairing as well as have our gallery folders open for profile submissions for the writers and beta readers.  This is a literature only group.

communityrelations is the base for everything community.  It's where all the CVs get together and party with the booze and stri...:cough: I mean, get together and converse about important things.  :paranoid:  

CRLiterature is the hub for all things literature.  Literature CVs (past and present) are on admin there as well as an awesome team of community oriented deviants that help run contests, think up awesome poll ideas, revive chat and engage with the lit community in general.  They're all wonderful people and support the current Lit CVs.

CRCommunityProjects is still a bit of a work in progress, but has a mentor program and regularly promotes community projects.

devBUG is the hub for beta testers.  I've been an Alpha Tester since April 2013.

FocusOnLit is my baby but also the red-headed step child of all my groups.  I've had such high hopes for the group, but haven't had the opportunity to really kick it off properly.  It's a group that is dedicated to getting feedback for your literature by breaking deviants into small critique groups/teams.  

Group-KickStarters is a fairly new group with some really awesome ideas.  Have you ever started a group and didn't know what to do or where to go?  Well, we help you.  Either by giving you a mentor or simply answering questions.  We're also working on some instructions journals!

TalentedWritersGuild has been around for awhile and is a quality control literature group.  All deviations are read and must be accepted by three members in order to get into the gallery.  It's known for very high standards but also for one of the best group galleries on dA!  

WordWars runs chat events with four rounds of words wars.  We used to tour around dA but have been quiet lately since IrrevocableFate and I are the main admins there and being CVs plus having lives kinda hinders our ability to keep it going regularly.

WritersInk is one of the awesomest groups I've ever been a part of.  I've been there on and off about three times now.  They run weekly features on submissions and started monthly workshops last year.  The admins are SUPER friendly and we all try to give feedback on what comes through the doors.  Very awesome group all around!

db1 by RBSRdesigns

:iconbeacritic: :iconbeta-readers: :iconcommunityrelations: :iconcrliterature: :iconcommunityprojects: :icondevbug:

:iconfocusonlit: :icongroup-kickstarters: :icontalentedwritersguild: :iconwordwars: :iconwritersink:

db1 by RBSRdesigns

Q~6:  Writing Emote - NaNo5 Do you have a favorite type of writing? You state you are just "a drunk with a pen" but surely you aren't always drunk when writing! :kittygiggle: 

:giggle:  Actually, I can't write when I'm drunk.  Seriously.  I've only ever written like one thing while drunk and I had to have evil83angel edit it before submitting, because it was riddled with typos and missing words.  But she's awesome like that.  As for a favorite type of writing, definitely romance.  90% of what I write it romance.  It's my go to genre.  It's what I read and what I enjoy.

Q~7: Daily Deviation It is humbling and yet gratifying to be recognized for the art that you love to create. You've received three DDs. Was receiving the 3rd as exciting as receiving your first?

Absolutely!  The first was a massive surprise.  I still remember getting in January 1, 2012; mainly because thorns stayed up late so she could be the first person to congratulate me, but then she got Deviousness that same day and had a worse MC than me.  Karma at its best.  :giggle:  And it's very humbling.  I don't really consider much anything in my gallery to be worthy of a DD.  I write because an idea pops in my head.  The two deviations I got DDs on in the Literature gallery are two pieces that I wrote spur of the moment, didn't really edit, but just wrote what was inside.  Which I guess is the best way to write.

A Guide to Character SheetsAlmost as soon as they were invented, people have been feuding over the effectiveness of character sheets.  Some say they are godsends and they couldn't possibly create characters without them.  Others say they only create flat characters and there's absolutely no reason why any writer should need to know the smallest and most minute details that character sheets call for.  And then there are the writers that don't know which side of the debate they should listen to.
The easiest answer to that question is it's a personal decision that every writer needs to make for themselves.  But before you make that decision, maybe you should know how they work and the benefits you can gain from them.
You see, when used correctly, sheets can really assist an author in keeping the facts about their world and characters straight.  Otherwise, on page ten little Anne has green eyes, but on page thirty-two they change to blue, and miraculously enough on page fifty-five they're brown or back to green.  
  Breakup SpeechIt's not you, it's me. I know it's the oldest excuse in the book, but hey, when it works, it works. Did you really see this lasting longer than a couple months? When does anything last longer than a couple months with me? I hope we can still be friends.
Yeah, 'cause everyone wants to be friends with the ex-lover. Like it ever works.
You know me. You know the type of person that I am. I've never been able to settle down. My heart wanders like a nomad. It seeks shelter where it's offered but only stays long enough to get warm. Attachment isn't an option for me. My mind is too warped. It's too dark to ever let someone in. Truly let someone in.
No, fuck! That's all wrong. It's too personal.  Too emotional.  Let me try again.
I don't want to do this, but I'm only going to hurt you if I don't.  And that's the last thing I want to do. So I'm ending this before it goes too far. I completely understand if you never want to talk to me again.

That w
  Best Damn WomanWhen I was younger, my home life wasn't really conducive to having friends. My only friend for most of my life was my cousin. We were only a few months apart in age, but we felt like twins. Finished each others' sentences, would text the same things to each other at the same time, could sense when the other was in pain or just needed a pick me up.  We invaded each others' lives and were the last person we each said "I love you" to at the end of the day.
A little over a year ago, she was killed in a car wreck along with her husband. But there are times I still get those feelings. Still want to grab my phone and send a text. Sometimes, I've actually sent the text and then I wonder who the person is on the receiving end. They've never responded.  Not sure what I'd do if I did get a response.
I miss her more than I've ever missed anything. Even her faults. Like when she'd take over my house and force me to do something I didn't want to do. Joining dA was one of those take overs.&

Q~8: :writing: How would you suggest a deviant get started in writing? What classes would you recommend? How would someone stay motivated in order to improve his/her writing skills?

Write.  Write all the time.  Write about everything.  Soak up whatever knowledge you can get.  That doesn't need to be in the form of classes because that can be expensive.  Libraries often have events for writers (especially around NaNo).  Local critique groups are awesome too.  But as much as you write, you also need to share.  You can't get better if no one's able to see what you're writing and improve how to be better.  And critique others.  You'd be surprised how much you can learn by critiquing others.  It sounds weird, but it's true.  And read.  Reading shows us new techniques, gives us inspiration, expands our vocabulary, it does so much and people don't give it enough credit.

 Character Motivation Sheet by GrimFace242 Mythology Info Sheet by GrimFace242 Literature Info Sheets by GrimFace242  5 Steps to Organize Your NovelWhat You'll Need:
:bulletblack: A basic story idea
:bulletblack: Printer (preferably laser) with plenty of paper
:bulletblack: Pens
:bulletblack: Three Ring Binders (2) with separating tabs
Build Your World and Characters
For most writers, this comes naturally.  If you're having some issues, there are plenty of tutorials, guides, aids and groups available for assistance.  For the purpose of this guide, you should have your world built and at the very least your main characters devised.  Having secondary characters planned will get you bonus points!
Print Character and Plot Sheets
Each character should have their own sheet (keep the backs blank, they're a grand place to keep extra notes and page references).  It's not necessary that you fill out every single line of the character sheet.  Fill out only what is necessary for the character/plot.  Feel free to add to the sheet as your write, too.  The

Q~9: What IS it with you and thorns????
Completely innocent.  I swear.  I don't touch wife parts.  :giggle:  In all seriousness, we've become really, really good friends.  I'd consider her among one of my closest friends and we've never met.  But we care about each other and how the other is doing.  Plus, we love pulling shenanigans on and with each other.  We're perfectly devious together.

Q~10: Anything else you would like to add?

You're all awesome.  :heart:

Divider II by RBSRdesigns

Moments by GrimFace242   PrincessItty bitty toes in black combat boots,
her giggles fill the house.
  Into the Woods by GrimFace242

Twitter backdrop by GrimFace242   The Library“This has always been my favorite room.”  Greyson's heavy boots echoed as he circled around the room.  Aside from his footfalls, the rest of the extravagant home was silent.  He gingerly hooked his finger into the bindings on the old books that were so carefully placed on the ancient bookcases, caressing the spine on each one.  “Even as a young child, I loved this room.  Uncle Damascus would tell Lydia and I the most adventurous stories in here.  Father told us not to listen to his tall tales and that Damascus wasn't his real name, but it's the only one we ever had for him.  I'm not even sure how he got the nickname.”
His eyes flickered around the room.  The dark wood paneling and floor to ceiling bookcases weren't the only attraction.  The second floor of the library had ornate stained-glass windows.  Each depicting a different vision.  Uncle Damascus once told Greyson that each Master of the house designed
 Blinding Trust by GrimFace242

The Library - Take TwoGreyson's heavy boots echoed as he circled around the room.  Aside from his footfalls, the rest of the extravagant home was silent.  “This has always been my favorite room.”  Sticking out his index finger, he hooked the bindings so carefully placed on the ancient bookcases.  “Even as a young child, I loved this room.  Uncle Damascus would tell Lydia and I the most adventurous stories in here.  Father assured us it wasn't his real name, but still, the only one we ever had for him.”
His grey-blue eyes flickered around the room and took in all the décor.  The house had been in the family for centuries.  All of the rooms had been redone at some point.  Either by a new Mistress that wanted her own tastes instead of the mother before her, or greedy young Masters that needed to show off their money and power.  All the rooms but the library.  Somehow it always remained safe from the demolition teams.  Lu
  Deepest Caverns by GrimFace242   Never Going Back.Little boy, little boy.
Won't you come here.
Little boy, little boy.
Won't you stay here.
He cries in the dark.
Stands strong in the world.
Fears that old monster.
Slowly learns to push back.
Young man, young man.
Won't you come back.
Young man, young man.
Won't you ever return.
He catches the strap.
Shatters the firewater.
Freeing himself.
Sheds not a tear.
Old man, old man.
Won't you help them.
Old man, old man.
Will you ever go back?

Divider II by RBSRdesigns

Thanks by KmyGraphic
Heart2Heart -Free 2 Use by Undead-AcademyMany thanks to GrimFace242 for taking the time to do the interview :iconbigheartplz:

Candle Divider o1 by AngelicHellraiser

black divider by ToxiceStea

MarPaz by MentecitaShayMacabra


Marie: Están igual que antes.

Shayla: Lo se, nos vamos a la escuela?

Marie: Pos claro! 
- Y los tres se dirigieron a la escuela.

Ahoramente, otra vez XD...

Espacio vació:

Yo:   Hi Hola!  A partir de este capitulo hasta el final, me acompañara alguien para no estar Forever Alone! Okno XD les presentamos a...

*Se escuchan redobles*
Angiefletcher: YO! Hola! Hi emoticon

Yo: Ella me va a acompañar en el resto de la historia, aunque estuve pensando...

Angiefletcher: Que estuviste pensando Cande?

Yo: Si poner cuando son grandes y... escenas lemmon!

Angiefletcher:  A LA HISTORIA!

Fin espacio vació

Los tres amigos iban de camino hacia la preparatoria, las chicas felices de volver a verse pero Jr solo miraba reír al amor de su vida, solo se limito a sonreír.
Ya hace mucho que no se veían, los tres ya habían madurado, mas o menos casi todos, habían cambiado mucho, pero eso no significa que no sean los de antes, osea los buenos amigos, graciosos y simpatices.
Ya llegando a la preparatoria, se encontraron con Thomas, FredJazz y XaDezz, todavía esperando a Marie afuera.

Marie: Hola Thommy, chicos! Que están haciendo?

Thomas: 1° NO ME DIGAS THOMMY! 2° Te estábamos esperando, 3° Quienes son?

Marie: Ah, ellos son unos viejos y buenos amigos, Shayla y Bowser Jr.

Xavier: Bowser Jr? Del juego Mario Bros? Aquí? En nuestro colegio? Como? Y que hac...
- Fue interrumpido por todos quienes le lanzaron una mirada fulminante con una expresión de "MUCHAS PREGUNTAS!"

Shayla: Muchas preguntas me marean la cabeza...

Bowser Jr: Pero si siempre te hago preguntas y nunca te mareas... :shifty:

Shayla: Yo ya me acostumbre a las tuyas, a las de el recién!
 - Dijo casi gritándole la castaña.

Bowser Jr: Isabell Mokky no me alses la voz!

 (El apellido de Bowser Jr.)

Bowser Jr: Tonta!

Shayla: Estúpido!

Shayla: Bebe llorón!

Bowser: Niña tonta!

ShayJr seguían discutiendo y diciéndose cosas tontas, aunque los demás solo los miraban.
Después de un rato de tantos gritos, los chicos se dirigieron a la clase que les toca, osea música, pero sin querer, Fred se choco con el bravucón del colegio, o se podría decir con su amigo de la infancia, de 16 años, cabello castaño algo rojizo, ojos azules, piel algo gris, con un carácter muy duro y nada amable, pero el es bueno si lo conoces bien, esta enamorado de alguien, el seria como Jazz, defiende a sus amigos y sabe cantar, Martín Van Stomm.
Y acompañándolo, la chica de quien esta enamorado, cabello castaño al final rojizo con un mechón tapándole un ojo, ojos rojos, carácter serio y algo loco, le gusta cantar y esta enamorada de Martín, Paz Ander Mc Ken, quien es muy gentil por dentro, conocida de Shayla.

Martín al sentir a alguien justo en frente de el, solo se limito a suspirar, abriendo lentamente los ojos se encontró con un Fred asustado y con nervios en una tonta sonrisa, todos al rededor miraban la escena algo asustados, pensaban que el bravucón de siempre le pegaría en la cara, pero no.

Martín: Jhonson... te dije varias veces que no te metas en mi camino... - El mira a los costados y ven a los demás confundidos, algunos escondidos en sus casilleros y otros atrás de los demás mirando la escena - USTEDES QUE?! QUIEREN QUE HAGA ESCENITA DE GOLPES Y SANGRE!? LARGO DE AQUÍ AHORA!

Todos asustados se fueron a sus salones, y solo quedaron MarPaz, ThoMarie, FredJazz, XaDezz, ShayJr y dos personitas muy curiosas para saber, esas dos personitas estaban atrás de la puerta de la sala de Física, y si, esos dos chismosos, eran Clark y Broken, también había alguien mas entrando a la preparatoria, pero no le tomo importancia de lo que pasaba y se fue a la sala de Física, pero Jackson se le quedo mirando un rato hasta que entro.

Mientras con nuestros amigos, cada uno esperaba que alguien pudiera ver el silencio, todavía el castaño miraba con enojo a uno de los hermanos Jhonson, este esperaba que la mirada que estaba clavada en el se esfumara, se estaba muriendo de miedo por dentro parecía que estaba corriendo por todos lados, pero eso solo era en su interior. Había tanta tensión en el aire, algo de tranquilidad y también de miedo. Hasta que el castaño abrió la boca.

Martín: Por que no nos avisaron que venia una conocida de Paz al colegio? Icon - 079 Jean

Todos los demás, menos MarPaz, se tiraron al piso, había tanta tensión en el aire y solo para esa pregunta, ellos pensaron que haría algo peor pero no, solo se limito a perder todo lo que estaba en el aire, ademas lo dijo todo con una sonrisa.

Jazz: En serio Van Stomm? En serio?... Icon - 070 (Eh?)

Paz: Siempre lo hace en serio, yo me voy.

Shayla y Marie: Te acompaño!
- Se miran - Me deben un chocolate...

Shayla,Marie y Paz se retiraron hacia la sala de música, mientras como escuchaban la "charla" que tenían sus amigos, ya llegando a la sala, Penny saludo a las tres únicas alumnas en la sala, literalmente, eran las únicas que estaban.

Penny: Hola chicas, Shayla.

Shayla: Hola Penny! Como van las cosas con Peter, eh?...

Penny: Icon - 056 Jen (O//A//O)Ahm... v-van bien... es muy lindo conmigo...

Marie: Penny, eres la novia de Peter?!

Penny: Claro, ademas, hace rato que deberían haber venido todos, y ya empezaron las audiciones y fuiste la única que viniste, así que, seras Julietta.

Marie: Aww... gracias.

Penny: Hace 30 minutos empezó la clase, Van Stomm los debió espantar otra vez...

Shayla: Tengo una idea, vamos a cantar, a ver si llamamos la atención, vengan chicas!

Paz y Marie subieron al escenario, esta canción la había escrito Shayla y en frente de las dos, así que la letra no seria problema.

SingingMúsica: Jessie J - Bang Bang feat. Ariana Grande & Nicki Minaj Letra - YouTube
(Shayla es Jessie, Marie es Ariana y Paz es Nicki)

She got a body like an hourglass,
but I can give it to you all the time.
She got a booty like a cadillac,
but I can send you into overdrive (Oh)

(Stop and wait, wait for that
Stop, hold up, swing your bat)
See anybody could be bad to you
you need a good girl to blow your mind, yeah.

(Los alumnos al escuchar la buena música que sonaba en el teatro se empiezan acercar, nuestros amigos también se acercan)

Bang bang into the room (I know you want it)
Bang bang all over you (I´ll let you have it)

Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

Bang bang there goes your heart (I know you want it)
Back, back seat on my car 
(I´ll let you have it)
Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

She might´ve let you hold her hand in school,
but I´mma show you how to graduate.
No, I don´t need to hear to talk to talk,
just come and show me what your momma gave (Oooh yeah)

(Los chicos miraba solo a Shayla y Marie, ellas con solo el primer dia ya se convirtieron en las mas buscadas por los chicos, Thomas, Martín y Jr las miraban a las tras MUY embobados)

(Your love gotta be baby, love but don´t say a thing)
See anybody could be good to you, you need a bad girl
to blow your mind.

Bang bang into the room (I know you want it)
Bang bang all over you (I´ll let you have it)

Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

Bang bang there goes your heart (I know you want it)
Back, back seat on my car 
(I´ll let you have it)
Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

It´s Myx Moscato
it´s frizz in a bottle
it´s Nicki full throttle
it´s oh, oh.

Swimming in a grotto
we winning in the lotto
we dipping in the pot of blue foam.

Kitten so good
it´s dripping on wood
get a ride in the engine that could.

Go, Batman robbin´ it
Bang, bang cockin´ it
Quenn Nicki dominant, prominent.

It´s me, Jessie and Ari
if they test me they sorry
ride us up like a Harley
Then pull off in this Ferrari.

If he hanging we banging
phone ranging, he slanging
it ain´t karaoke night but get the mic ´cause
he singing.

B to the A to the N to the G to the uh
B to the A to the N to the G to the hey

See anybody could be bad to you
you need a bad girl to blow your mind! (Your mind)

Bang bang into the room (I know you want it)
Bang bang all over you (I´ll let you have it)

Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

Bang bang there goes your heart (I know you want it)
Back, back seat on my car 
(I´ll let you have it)
Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

Bang bang into the room (I know you want it)
Bang bang all over you (I´ll let you have it)

Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang

Bang bang there goes your heart (I know you want it)
Back, back seat on my car 
(I´ll let you have it)
Wait a minute let me take you there (Ah)
Wait a minute tell you (Ah Hey)

Todos en el colegio, ya que en todo el establecimiento se escucho la música, las felicitaron a las tres mediante silbidos, aplausos y gritos. Las tres al bajar, todos los chicos rodearon a Shayla y Marie, pidiéndole citas, numero de teléfono y mas. A Paz por suerte, se fue caminando hacia la dirección de los chicos. Jr y Thomas se pusieron muy celosos, pero el pelirrojo corrió a todos los chicos.

Shayla: Uff! Gracias Jr - Dándole un beso en la mejilla, haciendo sonrojar.

Marie: Chicos! Chicos! Gane el papel para Julieta!

Fred: Genial!
- De la nada todos los chicos, de vuelta, los rodean.

Chicos: TU SERAS JULIETA MARIE!? - Casi ahogándola.

Thomas: Ey, no se le acerquen tanto.

Thomas agarro a Marie de la muñeca y la abrazo, apoyando su cabeza en su pecho, ella escuchaba como el corazón del castaño se empezaba a acelerar, y también el de ella, sentía un ardor en sus mejillas que no sabia si iba a parar.

Espacio vació:

Yo:Creepy Flail Escena ThoMarie! THOMARIE!!! - Empezando a sacudir a Angiefletcher sin parar .

Angiefletcher: Lo se lo se! Pero podrías parar!?

Yo:  Ah bueno Meow :3 lo hubieras pedido.

Angiefletcher: Te lo pedí hace 5 minutos Facepalm

Yo: Sweating a little... Igual! Ay que seguir con la historia.

Fin espacio vació

Mientras, Jazz no paraba de sacar fotos de las escenas "ThoMarie" (Ja! Me apoyan!) y Fred y Martín intentaban detenerla (Retiro lo dicho Stare) pero para ThoMarie, el momento era interminable, pasaron 5 minutos y Thomas no la dejaba de abrazar, y Marie se acurrucaba en su pecho, cada uno sintiendo el calor del otro.


Se escucho el timbre, Thomas reacciono pero no la quería soltar, "Se siente tan bien" pensaba el, pero Marie se repetía en la cabeza "Que me pasa? Thommy es mi primo... bueno, mi medio-primo, pero cuenta con la palabra primo, pero se siente tan bien estar así, su calor de su pecho me hace sentir segura", pero Bridgette justo vio la escena, y mucha rabia los separo.


Después de clases, Shayla, Marie, Jazz y Dezz se organizaron para hacer una piyamada en la casa de la pelirroja, invitando a los chicos y a Paz, contando a Samantha también, pero no sabían que alguien seria el "invitado sorpresa".

Marie: Oigan chicas. - Rompiendo el silencio.

Jazz: Si?

Marie: Recuerdan cuando Thommy me abrazo?

Dezz: Como no olvidarlo, que pasa con eso?

Marie: Estuve pensando... - De repente, las tres se detienen de golpe, asustando a Marie que también paro.


Marie: Es que, cuando me apoyo en su pecho, su corazón se aceleraba y... el mio también...

La pelirroja solo se limito a suspirar...

Shay: No sera que... te gusta Thomas? *Emocionada*

Jamming to mah stereo Música: Hercules - No hablaré (Letra) - YouTube
(Marie canta y las chicas hacen el coro)

Si a los engaños dieran premios
hubiera vario ya ganado
no me interesa tener novio
eso es historia, ya lo se todo.

A quien crees que engañas, el es lo que tu mas quieres
ocultarlo tratas, es hermoso lo que sientes.
(Oh no)
No lo disimules, bien sabemos donde esta tu corazón.
(Oh oh ohhh)

No van a oír que lo diga, no no.
(Tu sueño es, no lo niegues uh oh)
Jamas lo haré, no hablare de mi amor.
(Sho~doo sho~doo ohh)

Creía ya haber aprendido
siempre el inicio es hermoso
mi mente dice "Ten cuidado"
(Ah ah)
Porque no todo es maravilloso.

(Oh oh oh)
Claramente vemos, que lo quieres y lo extrañas
no lo aceptaremos, date cuenta que lo amas
(No noo)
Trata de admitirlo, tienes que aceptarlo
muy enamorada estas.
(Oh oh ohh)

No van a oír que lo diga, no no.
(Ya rindete, tu sonrisa es de amor)
No insistan mas, no diré que es amooor
(Quieras o no, te atrapo el amor)

No pidan mas que no diga
(No lo dice mas)
No harán jamas que lo diga
(Su orgullo no deja que hable de amor)

(Ohhh oh ohh)
Nadie sabrá...
No hablare de mi amor

Marie: Entonces... me gusta Thommy?

Dezz: No te gusta...


Marie: QUE!? Pff... claro que no.

Jazz: Vamos amiga, admítelo.
- Mientras le daba unos codazos.

Marie: NO! No me gusta y punto! - Se fue directo a su casa y cerro la puerta.

Dezz: ...Recuerdan que Thomas dijo que se quedaría en casa de Marie todo el mes?

Shayla: En serio?

Dezz: Si, eso sera un problema, si Marie no se da cuenta, Thomas le hará ver la luz.

Jazz: Eso es cierto.

Después, las tres tomaron caminos separados para preparar las cosas para la piyamada, y con nuestra pelirroja... bueno, nuestra pelirroja estaba en bolita arriba de su cama, pensando en lo que dijo Jazz, las palabras "Amor", "Thommy" y "Enamorada" retumbaban en su cabeza una y otra vez. Pensando, "Sera cierto? De verdad me gustara Thommy?" pero fue interrumpida por el timbre y seguido, la voz de Oliver.

Oliver: Marie! Thomas ya vino a casa! Junto con Sam!

Marie: T-Thommy? Ay no...

Era cierto, Thomas estaba parado en la puerta de entrada, al lado estaba una chica un año menor que el, cabello castaño y ojos azules profundo, era igual que su madre, Samantha Fletcher Doofeshmirtz, aquella joven tenia una maleta en la mano, y un bolso en donde estaban las cosas para la piyamada, y también era lo mismo con Thomas.

Continuara...La la la la La la la la 

February Literature DD Round Up

Sun Mar 1, 2015, 10:58 AM
:iconsingingflames: Features by SingingFlames

CatharsisI didn't know I had depression until I turned around one day and found someone else in the same boat. It had never occurred to me that you could have depression and not know it and after sitting down with myself and having a good long think I came to the awful realization that it's been ten years. Ten. Years.
Ten years of being incapable of feeling the entire breadth of human emotion; only degrees of anger I couldn't control or understand, knowing that I was behaving completely irrationally and being unable to stop, driving away family and the precious few friends that had managed to find me and could no longer hang on to the maelstrom I had become.
It has been a never-ending rollercoaster traveling through a dream world where everything runs at quarter speed. Brief bursts of enthusiasm and passion over anything and nothing that send me shooting up to the clouds, only to creep slowly over the hill at the top, a creep that can take days or mere hours, before the car goes plunging
well that virgin never kept them from litteringbefore this ugly, flowered couch
bobbed down the river
and came to rest where water lapped semen
from its edge,
someone slept here unalone.
the stains in the cloth spell promises,
"my body goes here,
yours belongs there,"
the cigarette burns on the armrests
sketch stories of every
so-late-it's-early night.
the couch now sleeps with the water
and the lilies
and the riverbank,
the fish now suckle waterlogged cigarettes on
flowered, moonless nights.
and this sink, before they ripped the kitchen out,
held his dishes-
food-caked, abandoned dishes
broken in anger against
her shoulders and her forehead
and her screaming, ugly face.
this sink, submerged,
holds crawdads
and bluegill babies,
sand and rocks and
clean, clean shells.
and before the flood dragged it into the river,
this playhouse was well-loved by
the giggling, groping children.
"i'll be daddy and you be mommy,"
and the look he gave her said
"it's not because we're older than them."
then the playhouse was stolen by the storm and now
RebootI punched a kid twice in fifth grade for trying to see up Gemini Hetherington’s skirt when her twin brother was home sick. The Hetheringtons could get away with things like that if they ever lifted a fist in the first place, but for a Holthausen it was like a criminal offense, and all of the better-neighborhood parents gasped at the news and wondered what went wrong in my development. I sat in the car while the principal spoke to my dad about it. Through the window I heard him warn that I would no sooner be punching Walt Burtons in elementary than pulling a knife on a man for his wallet in adulthood, and that immediate correction was necessary unless he wanted me to wind up in jail with the rest of the scum of Airedale.
While my dad tried to calm the principal down, Gemini Hetherington tiptoed up to the window when her nanny was distracted. At first she signed ‘thank you’ to me through the window.  She breathed on the glass and drew a heart on the foggy circle. T

getting rid of cold feet i stepped out and fog surrounded me, too
thin to be a proper blanket but i felt
at home for a split second-
figments of fragmented feelings flutter
against my unpoetically un-fragile ribcage.
endings are endings no matter where their
beginnings, the cold seeped into my soul
(i mean socks) 
and my hands matched my heart,
heavy breaths stain the air white and i pretend
i am a dragon-
childish dreams will never fully leave.
i complain stain drain gain a chain of apologies,
i apologized enough for the two of us and you 
never really listened,
but i wonder wandering through hazy memory lanes,
when was the last time timid timing didn't ru(i)n-
today, i remembered to smile at myself in the mirror
and i braided my hair while i was at it.
The Night We Ran Out of VodkaDisclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The historical events portrayed are used in a fictional manner. All of the characters herein are a product of the author's imagination, or are used solely in a fictional sense. The author owns exclusive rights to this work.
Note: Though this takes place in Russia, as the story is written in English, the dialogue is also written in English.
Note 14 February 2015: “Sven” has been changed to “Alexei” due to the historical culture in order to attain more believability.
The radio crackled as Alexei turned the dials, scratchy static echoing around the room. He stopped the needle at the station where news of the front had often been broadcast. Pulling his hands back, he rubbed them together quickly for some friction, not willing to waste any of their small coal supply for the chill in his bones at this early hour. The thin woolen gloves did not provide much warmth but he dar
Fan Fiction Basics: Learning to be a Writer
              Recently, I've had some heated discussions with friends who aren't fan fiction authors. One, in particular, has a vendetta against those of us who write fan literature. I asked him why, and his explanation was simple: most fan authors can't write. More than that, they have no desire to improve their writing.
              As a fan fiction author, I couldn’t argue. Most people use fan fiction as a stepping stone to original fiction. I’m the other way around — I learned how to write prose long before I ventured into fandom. There are certain skills, habits and facts that escape fan fiction authors because they have never had to deal with them. They have never been placed in a position to learn. And, more importantly, most fan fiction authors haven’t even learned how to learn writing as a skill set.
              Some of those things are beyond wha

it's no longer worth a thousand wordsi took down the pictures; every last
they reminded me too much of the
shapes of my eyes three years
ago, and the way your shoulders
slumped in defeat when you realized the flash was on,
not off.
they reminded me of the books
stacked in towers around our heads, tilting
softly in summer sunlight
drifting through hazy shades of dust, left to pile into
mountains by morning from curious
fingers and a night owl's
they reminded me of yesterday
and ten yesterdays ago and how
they would never happen again. how even though
we smiled freeze-frame, it never lasted.
everyone wants to think they will
keep themselves forever, and seeing perfect pictures of pretty lives
lost years ago
made me realize: nothing is.
that was the hardest part.
so i took down the pictures, every last
and sent them
down to ashes in a
shoebox that didn't burn as
easily as i'd thought it would.
i would love to say i'm sorry, but -
i'm not.  
You. Got. This.I see these people all over the place –
Depressed, anxious, confused, confounded even –
And I see them, all uncertain, not knowing what will happen next
I see them trying to be brave or just accepting the fear
I see them breaking and then pretending not to be broken
I see them, and I have only three words:
First word: You
Second person pronoun, indicating the person to whom I am speaking
It’s every person, just as it is specific to the one, making no discernment between the two
Second word: Got
A word indicating possession, ownership, belonging
Also a word indicating inevitability;
In this case You must own, You must possess, You must belong,
And third word: This
A word indicating that of which we are speaking,
In this case all those things you think you are going to fail at,
Or that you want to try but don’t think you can succeed in,
Or all the things you wish you could have but don’t believe you’ll ever own
In this case, You must possess all your d

:icongrimface242: Features by GrimFace242

kids cut through the middlewhen you spend a summer somewhere
where people squirrel away their
ugly children, it's hard not to notice
the subtle strain of the truth
on certain smarter faces,
or the absolute oblivion
in certain spinning eyes
and stumbling legs.
i met a girl named K,
just K,
with ankles like a deer and a voice
loud like noise and swampy like a swamp.
she liked orange foods and big words and
her hands shook like the girls in jazz class.
K clicked her tongue between words sometimes
but nobody ever mentioned it. her socks
were alphabetized. she carried a comb in her back pocket
but only 'cause she needed it, she said.
her hair was turning to snow and falling out,
she said. 'cause she pulled at it too much, she said.
she said other things, too, but i promised
never to write them. i promised not to tell
the bad things she'd done, the boy who kept her in, in, in.
she made bracelets of awful words at night and kept them
under her bed. she did it maybe so that even worse things wouldn't go bad.
In Search of the Liber Seed   "Have you ever seen a girl's boobs?"
   Andy lurched forward, coughing as soda shot out his nose. The action caused Tony to roll back in laughter.
   Managing to compose himself, the ginger-haired boy ran his arm across his face. "Why do you want to know that?"
   "I dunno. Just curious." Tony turned to his other friend. "What about you, Mikey?"
   Michael felt heat rush to his cheeks. It wasn't the question that embarrassed him, but his answer. "No, not real ones. I've seen them in Playboy, though."
   Tony sat up straight. "How do you get dirty magazines? My dad doesn't even get them. I have to sneak them when my uncle comes over."
   Fiddling with the pull-tie on his jacket, Michael shrugged. "Some of the kids bring them into school and let me look at them."
   With a snort, Tony crossed his arms. "Why aren't I getting in on that action?"
There Were FourThere Were Four
    It was a slow day, and for good reason. November rain drummed down on the streets of the city, sluicing through gutters and filling the air with the gentle scent of soaked concrete. The only people out in such weather had good reasons for braving the cold; they walked with heads ducked and collars turned, single-mindedly hurrying towards their destinations. Few of them stopped to consider a scruffy beggar huddled beneath the mediocre shelter of a bus stop, even when waiting under the same alcove for transportation.
    It was hardly surprising. I was under the shelter because it kept off the worst of the rain, not because I expected coins. It had just seemed rather silly not to put down the tin, you know? Besides, there’s something to be said for taking a while to watch people go by, their stories trailing behind them like the ragged ends of an old cloak. While I might not have gotten enough

Ink ShadowDrowning down with the shallow ones,
They have this... darkness... surrounding them;
It gnaws away at their own mind.
No, it drowns their psyche,
Pulling it beneath the silver lined waves;
Coating it in inken armor...
In a vain effort to protect themselves.
These creatures have no reflection;
Resemblant of demons and their ilk,
Unable to look within and battle their own demons,
Lurking inside...
The dark ink pools to form a mirror...
The demonic creature can never look into it,
They're too afraid of their own shadow;
And that is what they've become...
A shade; A simple hue...
A shadow that follows others around, seeking the light that is within them...
Because they look at them, and just think,
'Anything is better than the darkness... The cold, cruel eternal night...'
Their jealousy is eating them alive.
It plagues their souls, shadowing, as shadows do,
Always following those they crave...
As an ink shadow, like a leech;
A vampire draining the life out of them,
Drawing ou
Skies over San AngeloThere is something about you
I've never been able to capture in word or form;
an alluring resonance in the sadness
hidden behind your piercing blue eyes,
some immeasurable substance
caught in the dulcimer tune of your voice,
that tugs on my heartstrings
like a sea-eyed starlet pruning her melody from a harp:
A white velvet hurricane in a black satin dress
with hammers for hands and a stained glass smile,
the kind of beauty the moonlight clings to
and follows around at night;
Calypso's golden daughter-
a silver dagger in place of her tongue
and a smile pieced together from a leftover sunrise;
A sidewalk flower with the might of an oak
the tender heart of a lamb,
and all the bewildering mystery of Minerva..
The kind of Woman you see standing next to the ocean
and wonder which of them is more vast.
You once kissed me on my temple
and five years later I still swoon at the thought-
lost in the memory of silken tendrils of hair
tickling the skin of my cheek,
and the sweet smelling breeze you
The New Spirits of the Old Land-
In the beginning there was them. The Spirits.
For as long as the land has been home to humans, there have been spirits to look over them, guide them, and represent them. The spirits could take many forms; from the smallest ant to the strongest Kangaroo. They could be the wind, or fire; or even the trees in the forests of rain.
For the millennia that followed they did what they were made to do. The spirits cared for the land, and in turn taught their mortal kin the same. They learned the ancient language of the land; learned words that could make mountains rise from plains or disappear entirely.
For a long, long time, there was peace, and plenty, and joy.
Then the sea strangers came, on their beasts of wood and steel.
Then everything changed.
1. (AHVIS)
Gaagudju died today.
I am flying in my Falcon-Skin when I find out; soaring across the arid and sun-drowned land I call home. I am searching for a stray rabbit or lizard when I see Tawn of the Desert, sprawled out on a flat-to

The CovenantA Fable - The Covenant
The rowan tree stood between a gnarled apple and an errant hazel in what had once been an orchard. Later, left to its own devices, the orchard tried its best to revert to the wild but in time became appropriated into part of the large back garden of a small stone house.
The rowan, the mountain ash, had been planted by Alan’s grandfather and was now surrounded by a wooden seat built by Alan in his youth as a first project in woodworking.
    His granddad, then nearly at the end of his term of life had advised him, told him the about the joints and the most appropriate wood to use. Alan fifteen and full of strength expected to finish the job in a day and became irritable if things didn’t go right straightaway. Granddad advised caution.
     ‘You’ll never make a good job this way, Alan. You must address yourself to the material in a loving frame of mind. You see, this piece of wood never wanted to be a seat. It was qu
Letters to all the people I have kissedi. Rob
I expected a knight in shining armour but you were
just a boy, just a boy.
ii. Jonny
you flirted and you teased and you kissed me
at midnight on new year’s eve and set the tone
for that whole god-forsaken year.
iii. Thomas
I could taste lies on your tongue and doubt in your fingers;
you said you were a taurus but you were gemini all over.
iv. Liam
friends shouldn’t kiss in the kitchen and
friends shouldn’t drink gin together and
friends shouldn’t cry, drunk on misery, and
friends shouldn’t break another friend’s heart and
I’m still sorry.
v. Pete
I expected just a boy but you were
a knight in shining armour, silver to the pretty
ivory teeth, who was looking for a damsel and found
only don quixote, tilting at windmills and refusing
to be saved.
vi. Helen
we were drunk and you were more beautiful
under the harsh car park lights than I had noticed before
and you were mid-sentence and I was mid-hiccup and
we still laugh about it now.
vii. Na

As always, a huge thank you to all the wonderful suggesters this month:
Ravenswd, LindArtz, SavageFrog, snazzie-designz, hopeburnsblue and DeviantArtist14

Love DA Lit: Issue 199

Journal Entry: Sun Mar 1, 2015, 7:12 PM
IrrevocableFate's Lit treasure chest!
Issue 199

Welcome to the one-hundred ninety-ninth issue of Love DA Lit! Pixel Rose Every Sunday this article will aim to promote volunteer opportunities, various resources, prompts, challenges, and workshops, as well as highlighting various contests. This is by no means a complete list of all the literature going-ons, merely a tool to help you get involved and stay informed.

Literature Links

Group News

Inspiration (Workshops, Prompts and Challenges)





Ongoing Challenges [No Deadline]:

Lit Contests Galore!

These include contests that are purely Literature based and those that have other categories as well, but still accept Literature.

New Contests:

Contests Ending This Week:

Contest Extensions:



Regular Lit Articles

General Resources

Looking for the rest of the resources? Go to the Community portal, below!

Looking for some groups?

If you're still not finding a group you like check out the list of all literature groups on dA: Click here!

Literature Community Relations

:icongrimface242: GrimFace242 - GrimFace242's DD Suggestion Guidelines

 :iconirrevocablefate: IrrevocableFate - IrrevocableFate's DD Suggestion Guidelines

:iconsingingflames: SingingFlames - SingingFlames' DD Suggestion Guidelines [ Fan Fiction and Literature!]

Go on and send your literature DD suggestions to them! :eager:

#CRLiterature - The Community Relations Literature Chatroom

:new:Literature CR Update - February 2015

:new:Literature DD Roundup - February 2015

Literature Forums

Literature Forum

Literature Forum Rules

:new:Monthly Literature Critique Thread: March

:note: FAQ #61: What is a Daily Deviation?

:note: FAQ #18: Who selects the Daily Deviation and how is it chosen?

:note: FAQ #873: What do I do when I disapprove of a Daily Deviation feature?

Contacting Me

:star: See something you don't like? That you like? Want changed or removed? Have a suggestion for the next issue? Then please send me a note! The Literature Community is huge, so I'm always going to miss something or make a mistake, don't be afraid to let me know. ♥

Hugs, love and thanks to:

:iconsonamyfan362: my favoritest LITplease Community Liaison.

:iconxmothermoonx: for letting me run LITplease’s Community Portal.

:iconmedoriko: for reminding me about her articles!

Found Poetry: How-To #1: Erasure

Sat Feb 28, 2015, 10:22 PM
Writer's Workshop
where writers workshop writing!

Huzzah! The Workshop has begun!

So, you did some reading, right? RIGHT? And you've got your erasure tools ready? White out, sharpie, Photoshop? Or maybe you're just going to type up the words in order, cutting out what you don't need. That's cool, too. As long as you're ready to get erasing.

To catch up, here's what you already know about Erasure:

Erasure poetry (sometimes called blackout or whiteout) is created when the author literally erases certain words of a source text, leaving the remaining words and phrases to create something new. You can do this visually, with editing software on your computer or with a sharpie or White-Out on a book/photocopy. Or, you can just write out the words and phrases that you keep into a new document, adding or subtracting punctuation and changing capitalizations, creating new stanza breaks, etc., as long as the words appear in the same order that they appeared in the original text. And here's the kick-off journal, if you need a little refresher on found poetry in general...and the not required but fantastic reading recommendations: Writers' Workshop: FOUND POETRY!

This is a two-parter. Part One:

To start, I want you to work with a text that is easily available online and in the public domain. So when I post an image of it below, nobody shows up and sues me. Or you. Or anyone. So. Choose one of the following texts, scanned lovingly by me, for you, into the Internets.

PoeUsherSpread by PinkyMcCoversong
Edgar Allan Poe, "The Fall of the House of Usher," from the Platt & Munk
edition of EDGAR ALLAN POE STORIES, 1961. Pages 104-105.

DickinsonLetters 0001 by PinkyMcCoversong

Emily Dickinson, Letters to James D. Clark and Maria Whitney, 
from the Everyman's Library Pocket Poets edition of EMILY DICKINSON: LETTERS
selected and edited by Emily Fragos, published by Alfred A. Knopf in 2011. Pages 84-85.

WhitmanDoverThrift by PinkyMcCoversong

Walt Whitman. LEAVES OF GRASS: The Original 1855 Edition,
published by Dover Thrift Editions in 2007. Pages 86-87.

Now that you've chosen a text, go at it! Print it out, Sharpie out words until you have a new poem. Use an exacto knife (carefully!) or White-Out if you'd like. Or, you can just type up the chosen text (in the order it appears on the page!) into a text deviation.  For this method, put the line breaks where you want them and punctuate how you'd like. (If you want to challenge yourself, though, you can keep the breaks and punctuation as they are in the original text!)

When you are finished you should have something that looks like this:

Poe-m 1: Love Letter to a Husband by tiganusi
"Love Letter to a Husband" by tiganusi 

Or possibly like this:

Poe-m 2: Love Letter to a Wife by tiganusi
"Love Letter to a Wife" by tiganusi

Submit it to the folder!

For part two:

Choose your own adventure text. However, you must use a text that we can read online so that when we critique and give feedback, we can use it as a reference. Think of magazines, newspapers, and other places where there is free, all-access online content. You can print out your text (or create a PDF/JPG/screenshot) to work with, or you can write down the words you're choosing to use -- as long as you keep the words/phrases in order! And, remember, you must COMPLETELY black out/erase any words that you aren't using if you choose to create a visual piece. When you post your piece, be sure to link to your source! 

Some ideas:


Got your second erasure poem ready? Submit it to the folder! Y'all have until the 22nd to get work from this How-To AND the other How-To's into the aforementioned folder. I'll then post a journal with pieces from the workshop and we'll all critique for the last week of March!

I'm looking forward to seeing everyone's erasures. The next How-To will be on cut-up & remix. Get your scissors (or your mental scissors) ready to scramble some source texts!

xoxoPinkyMcCoversong :iconpinkymccoversong:

This was originally intended to be a feature slash vlog post but since I don't really have enough questions to post a Q&A vid like I had planned, I just leave you guys with this feature! Thank you so much to everyone who suggested artists and if you guys have a question for me for my planned Q&A, you can find that link here.

And remember you guys, you are all beautiful, and amazing. Yes, YOU. 

237-IndefiniteTruth - suggested by Silidons00
Our Darkest Moments    My insides were screaming. Every inhale felt like a thousand nails grating back and forth inside my lungs but this was no time to stop and catch my breath. That thing that had been stalking me earlier was running full sprawl right on my heels. The more it gained, the colder the air seemed to get, a kind of pungent, metallic scent corroding the air. I ran on, shooting towards the glaring glow of Haven rising above me.
    I had been sent on a retrieval operation to procure a nuclear device key from the Old City. The City used to be a sprawling metropolis. Home to millions of humans before the last nuclear bombs opened up the gateway that had let all the Angels flood onto our planet. Now it was a skeleton; a crumbling, cracked, and crooked ghost. The skyscrapers looked more like rows of tombstones to me. Once upon a time those very buildings towered in the air. Gleaming glass and silver steel jutting into the sky, seen from thousands of miles away. A reminder that

AlterEgo1629 - suggested by haphazardmelody 
In FlightWildfire orange atop
a silhouette of mountains,
still cloaked in the night's pitch.
Transforming to tangerine hue;
above a tepid blue settles silently.
Day blends instead of breaking,
casting cantaloupe color across the sky.
Coasting with a crystal clear view,
waves of silken clouds creating a
white ocean below.
Fading fast as a golden sun rises,
I long like Icarus to fly closer,
and melt in it's morning glory.
Copyright © 2014 LYNETTE EMERY. All rights reserved.

ameliemj - suggested by scheherazades
dreams from the strawberry cityi woke up with the word prozac on my lips.
aaaand i dreamt of london
                              again and the
city was swollen and the lights were red, traffic
clutter and cinnabar bus shelter red
         thought i heard a train
                                     smashing but it was only
                                                 newspapers soaking up
the nocturnal tempo of some underground night club
some state of the art sound system, oh so modern oh so
                                let's pretend
to be an orchestra, hang cables from plastic pronounces,

Andyneth - suggested by OoJitkaoO 
Healing Roses.It was a crossroad
Where once two knights
were meeting
And one, looked at the other
And smiled in understanding
They laid their armor down
Put their swords to rest
For even a moment
Brief minutes
Of otherness
And the knights talked
And as they did
The roses bloomed
And they became poets
The scenery changes
Once again
And now shows two girls
Looking at each other
In Understanding
And poetry.
And the chrome, the shields
The battelscars
Became a memory of the past.

asecretoutlet - selected by me
phototropismMy mood is a weepy sedentary plant
rooted in indecision,
rooted strongly in bed
in resistance of the gardener's hand that yanks at me,
trying to transplant me
into a field of responsibilities,
fertilize me into growing faster.
why is it so forceful?
Everything's too fast and obligatory--
I have a fantasy where I have time.
I'm in an art studio loaded with art supplies
there's a bed, but I don't take root in it
because no one's weeding me out of it.
There, I could grow as slowly as I please,
so I would grow rapidly, like kudzu
On a hot Georgia day

AussieDidge - suggested by nightshade-keyblade 
A Roused Memoir...A Roused Memoir, by David Nicholas
Curse this worst slumber
Tossed, turned, struggled and best yet
Slept past my alarm
Stumble, slip and slide
I rush to prepare myself
Got no time to waste
Kitchen’s my first stop
Quickly prepare my breakfast
Eggs, toast, cereal
Bleugh! Oh, they’re awful!
Coal-black burnt bread, and those eggs?
Raw with clumps of shell
To make matters worse
I screwed up the cereal
Had SALT, no sugar
Shower sadly sucked
Soap & shampoo went missing
Hot water ran out
To top that all off
No handy damned towels there
Left sopping, soaked wet
Tossed on some clothing
Zubaz and polka dot tie
With formal dress shirt
Raced out of the house
But time had cursed me again
Missed the bus and train
The folks point and stare
Laughs, snorts and snickers escape
A journey from hell
Pray I make it through
Hours of lectures await
I’d rather just die.

bloomingunderwater - suggested by BleedingProphecies  
crying treeswhy are the trees crying, uni?
why do the branches reach up to the sky
like capillaries, searching for a heart beat?
why do you paint the world without color?
i have a box of postcards back home,
amongst the postcards are photos of us,
messy little people trying to gather ourselves
in a big beautiful kaleidoscope world.
i remember the first time you asked me-
why do the trees cry so slowly?
you were pointing at the beads of sap
on the trunk of a slaughtered tree.
i don't know.
but when we cry ourselves to sleep at night
and the next day it's as if nothing happened-
maybe if we still had tears on our cheeks
someone would stop and ask,
are you alright?
but i don't really know..

cattservant - suggested by AyeAye12 
ignore the presenta good policy
when the present requires you
it will seek you out

crystallized-skies - suggested by Silidons00 
take my breath awayyour calloused fingers
wrap around the delicate frame
of my paper maché lungs
and you squeeze
until my breathes
b u r s t
from my withering lips
like firecrackers
in mid-july.
explosive fits of
flailing limbs come
to a stuttering halt as
your wiry grip inches further
up my trachea--
you couldn’t just stop
at my cresting clavicles and
pull poetry out of their
porcelain exterior,
no you wanted
to see me gasping,
clawing at my throat and
hissing at the icy palms of winter
that trap me as my ribs
catch fire and the last traces
of precious
air trickle from my
weary mouth;
you stole the
only thing I had left
to take.

Deadfish-SilentArmy - suggested by Silidons00 
The Ethera
Please read slowly to the below music
Death walking
Demonic forces
turning your blood black as it courses
They’re the chill passing through you
a spirit entering your soul
and ripping it from your body to eat it whole
Silently gliding across the floor
evil to their core
Their hearts have been erased
by darkness and its sweet embrace
Becoming opaque beings in swift motion
then disappearing like a drop of blood in the ocean
vanishing into the air
only to reform elsewhere
Sleeping for a century
relying on their leader to wake them repetitively  
A soulless Blue Blood at their helm
He willingly gave them his soul
to give them the power to be released from their bodies hold
Death’s cold
but when you look in their eyes you’d rather die at the North Pole
frozen to the spot
Will you live past today?
‘Cos these words are just a shadow of them and all that you are not.

Dry-souls-of-death - suggested by BleedingProphecies 
AnymoreI don't think I can do this anymore.
I don't want to fight this anymore.
I don't want to swim against the tides anymore.
I don't want to hurt anymore.
I don't want to live anymore.

Entitaria - suggested by scripted-silence 
[37]-and she is
 a wearer of masks;
 memory held tight
 within a holographic key
 at the base of her throat
(too afraid to name
 it her heart)
 but, oh how she
 wished, it would
 break, how she
 wanted her near-
 perfect memory
 to shatter, and let
 the pieces wash away
 as she would
 look them in the
 eyes, and say
'equanimity is
 lost within
 the hollows
 of your deceit,
 i wear this memory
 so that you,
 you cannot

evillittleworld - suggested by SMAdams 

galaxssea - suggested by ssensory 
.Violet hues
streak across
an open horizon
of a gray canyon
Within this bleak
ravine of dreams
is a trench;
it stretches from my feet
to the blazing caverns
of Earth's cryptic core
Some like to call it
the Trench of Liberation
Encompassing me
is a sweet wind
whispering to me
promises of bliss
but only if
I escape the
warm callings
of the trench
Too late.
My toes push me
off the edge
and the swarthy
trench absorbs me
Miles below civilization,
I am swiftly blinded--
the sun surely cannot
reach these depths
With the rush
of uncertainty
gushing through each layer
of my paralyzed body
and the blissfulness
of an imminent demise
at last I sense life
entombed deeply inside me
No one can rescue
my numb corpse now,
The weights
of a wretched life
are no longer chains,
bruising my ankles
I can live
in a world
full of vast dreams
and satisfied desires;
a world lacking reality
If someday
my remains are found
leave them be
and please
cease the tears
and the perpetual mourning

innoctemn - suggested by Silidons00
v.i sleep with a knife
by my
so i can slay
the demons
that escape me.
i'd rather keep them
inside my
then to unleash terror
upon this

iNeedYorkshireTea - suggested by Naktarra  

jungle-slang - suggested by AyeAye12
fabled lifei.
she talks through her wrinkles,
'i have no desire for food', she says.
i take her plate to the kitchen
noticing how the beetroot shavings bled into the skin of the chicken and brown rice.
it was blood, skin, and bone,
and the rice was a million starlike cells floating between.
this reminds me of my anatomy textbook:
we've been learning what's beneath our skin,
we learned that all cells divide. some cells often don't stop dividing.
other cells divide and stop when they should...
but not my grandmother's.
starlike, they explode, they shatter, they consume
they divide.
i want to be mad at my grandmother's cells,
but what would that do?
i want to talk to my grandmother's cells,
i want to tell them they can be alive
and not kill her.
but first,
i have to catch the moon,
i have to visit hades and bargain with beautiful music,
i have to sell my voice for legs,
i have to sail the ocean blue in search of a good reason why cancer can't just be what it is.
this is not a fabled life

KarmeticPeace - suggested by Newroleplayer  
Men, Not Boysthey say real men are long gone and chivalry is dead.
naw you just ain't been looking and been settling for boys.
real men care and are not afraid to show real emotions.
real men, love to the bitter end.
he stands his ground but will compromise a few inches.
he will protect what is his like a true soldier.
never gets jealous cause he knows the truth.
he works his fingers to the bone, to provide.
he will wait for a woman and disregards the ones that have no respect.
he is only for one woman, no regrets.
he shows his kids how to act and conducted oneself.
his actions are louder than any words.
he commands, no... demands respect, no exceptions.
boy's run, real men fight and have the maturity to walk away.
he demands that you speak and understand maturity, he never goes petty.
he shows his women love every! and I mean every damn day!
and he expects it back, why? just because your his queen, doesn't mean he isn't king.
girls tramp on real mens hearts, women understand the line.

KingfisherSilentArmy - suggested by Silidons00 
The End of PainCome comfort my soul
Extinguish the pain inside.
Give me a reason to ignite
and burn these ghosts
of my past.
That haunt me daily
at every turn I take
there they are.
Help me put an end to this
living nightmare.

kuku88 - suggested by Naktarra 
I'm Not Worth ItI'm Not Worth It:
What was probably only minutes seemed to stretch on into hours. Time slowed down around the young girl, standing behind bars. The way she'd come to be there was a twisted and dark story, one she herself couldn't quite believe. Tears came to her eyes as she thought about it.
What should've been the night; the one night she succeeded in making her father proud of her, became the most nightmarish day of her life. Not only had she been locked up by her own father, she'd found out he wasn't even her father at all.
Oroku Saki. A liar. Maybe she should've seen it coming. He was intent on revenge, after all. But...she'd always thought that he wanted to kill Hamato Yoshi because Yoshi had so-called killed Tang Shen, a woman they both loved. When the girl was young, she had liked to think Saki had also wanted to kill Yoshi because Yoshi had put his daughter in danger.
But no. It was all a lie. She sat down against the cold, hard wall, blinking back those

LadyOfFrost - suggested by OoJitkaoO
It's Not Enough, But It's As Close As I'll GetThe only help I can find
isn't in the hold
of people around me,
however eager they are
to offer empty platitudes
and fragile promises of help
they'd never care to offer
if they knew
what I looked like inside.
It's far away
and we're separated
by an ocean
and a lot of cables,
but the click-clack
of of our mutual typing
is the most comfort
I've been able to find.
Because I know how
the story plays out –
it's happened enough times,
and it's never good for me.
But you don't follow that pattern,
and that's weird,
but it's wonderful
because it's so much better.
Because no matter how much
those who stand over my shoulder
try to be comforting,
you've managed so much more
through a screen
and words alone
(and a few emoticons,
but it's the closest we can get
to non-verbal communication,
so let's just ignore that.)
And I always feel like
I can't thank you enough,
but seriously, dude –
(and isn't it weird
to see me use that word)
you're a frickin' saint
(and your language

mrgrinmore - suggested by Naktarra 

NicholasName - suggested by AyeAye12
Beat the RoadAnd so it goes.
Vivid transactions of a world gone mad with grass,
Risen out dead bodies sprawling up at the moon,
Past the fantastic glow of shimmering antiquities and shining eyes…
Vapor! –Turning into naught but misty line, over the suffrage of generations and the people mad
W/ constant desires and gradual awakenings and not-so-constant birth.
Who’s to say, and who’s to talk? Realities shift
And bring us down by the last drink or the early yawn or the first rays of the moon, the sun
They leave the packets and the mattresses and drive to who knows where and sullen bakery boys bid adieu and what else who else is lost to history’s mad blinding current?
Soaking wet with fun and ethereal glow of transpiring intellect, who doesn't have that all?
Searchers trapped in human form, looking for the missing piece we’re all born without
I’m tired of poetry, I’m tired, it stopped giving me light
I’m tired of everything it seems,

StarryStarrySky7267 - suggested by Naktarra 
Either/Or/Neither/BothThe place I live in is an either/or world,
But sometimes I feel like an in-between.
People say I'm either a Taiwanese or a Canadian,
But sometimes they make me feel like I'm neither. 
"You speak English,
Your read English novels, 
And you hang out with Canadians.
You are not the Chinese top student anymore,
And you have those 'fun' classes like
Business, art and foods.
You're a Canadian,"
My Taiwanese friends say. 
But I was born and raised in Taiwan,
I look like an Asian,
And I still speak Mandarin and eat Taiwanese foods.
I have to be a Taiwanese.
But I don't have the same hairstyle the Taiwanese girls have.
I don't watch those Taiwanese dramas.
The Mandarin songs I listen to came out in 2007,
And I don't know those famous new bands.
"You're too westernized," they say,
"You can't be a Taiwanese."
Then am I really a "Canadian"?
I have an accent,
Sometimes I don't get jokes the Canadians do.
"You're too conservative and naive," Taiwanese say,
"Canada seems like a world t

TheAnimalsRight - suggested by AyeAye12
shadow smudgerit looks like im not doing much
but im doing things bhind the scenes
i went to the employement place
4 a workjob behind the scenes
got wun 4 up on the flat slotterhouse roof
trimming the postoral scenery
off the cattle ghosts
that they were still very muchishly attached 2 so they were.
imaway into the red art feeld the now

thoughtmaker - suggested by AyeAye12
the arrow shaftclothing stores and horses' manes
stepping stones and back again
only go where ghosts do tread
careful now don't wake the dead
brittle trees and darkened wood
having thoughts that no one should
used up garbage has no uses
dried up hags and bitter muses

Daily Lit Recognition for March 2nd, 2015

We are proud to feature today's Daily Literature Recognition!
You can show your support by :+favlove:ing this News Article.

Please comment and :+fav: the features and congratulate the artists!


Featured by: AyeAye12
schadensomethinggod, do i miss -
and i level the words against my shoulder like a shotgun,
weigh the thought out on my tongue like teeth
- well. does it matter what i miss,
when none of my shots have ever hit the dead
of their plush-pumping targets? i miss, i miss,
god, do i miss. god, do i always fucking miss.
shaky fingers, if you ask me. weak wrists and hollow elbows
and wire-boned shoulders and broken ribs and rattling spine
and, and, and, and, and.
i've tried writing about people who aren't me for so long
that sitting down and pressing probablymy keys to the
letters feels as fake and scripted as it always has. i've
tried writing about people who aren't me for so long that
i've become yet another person who isn't me. i've tried,
and god, do i miss. pull up another target, paint the old
bulls-eye on, cover your ears. maybe this time -
maybe this -
maybe, maybe, maybe. and, and, and
i tilt whatever fake metaphor weapon i'm holding
up and under my chin like your fingers
(because of course, of

schadensomething by wish-sticks

Precise technical skill and careful word
choice makes for a brilliant poem.

Suggested by: SilverInkblot
Featured by: chromeantennae
Railroad CrossingShe loved him with all
of the subtlety of an
oncoming freight train.

Railroad Crossing by everystupidstar

Suggester says: A refreshing,
unexpected image.


Featured by doodlerTM
Fig and Hazel at the Mall“Hmm,” Hazel said.  “Let me see.  That one.”
He pointed off somewhere over Fig's left shoulder.  She licked her plastic fork, then stabbed it in her slightly mushy lo mein.  “Hazel,” she said, “You know it's rude to point.”
Hazel grinned.  On his boyish face, it was positively mischievous.  “Okay, fine.  The one in the blue top and short-shorts.  With the purple Chuck Taylors.”
Fig twisted in her seat, unsubtly scanning the crowd on the other end of the food court.  “You sure?  She's got long hair.”
“My dear, dear Fig,” Hazel said, “You need to learn to let go of all these stereotypes.  It's unbecoming.”
“Yeah, whatever.”  Fig picked back up her fork, twirling a strand of lo mein like it was spaghetti.  “I still don't see how you could think she's gay.”
“You're really going to question this?”

Fig and Hazel at the Mall by anapests-and-ink

A charming story about two
friends and their wacky relationship.

Suggested by: chromeantennae
Featured by: Naktarra

Sunsetting Mirrors            Little Betty hated mirrors. This was a case noted often in Humans her age. Shadow doctors have prescribed the causes to be mainly centered around current social standards. Flaunting brittle bodies and paper-thin skin, Human females were expected to be wind-worthy by their thirteenth birthdays—and by wind-worthy, my dear little readers, I am referring to the capabilities of thin Forest-Shades and Cirrus-Shades who fly away at the merest gust of wind. Like a dandelion seedling, you understand?
            The problem was that Humans can't fly on their own. Past attempts have proven to be most perilous, so they invented airships and parachutes to soothe their love for the sky. Girls like Little Betty, however, seemed to have no desire for travel of any sort. Why, then, were they so bent on shrinking themselves this extremely? Our tale today is about the Shadow wh

Sunsetting Mirrors by Tales-of-Tao

This is a really beautiful piece,
quite simply. It's excellent.

Foreign Language

Featured by: Malintra-Shadowmoon

- Vous savez, je veux bien croire que c'est un animal placide et peu violent, qu'il se laisse facilement manipuler – même si, à vrai dire, j'ai un peu de mal. Mais en toute honnêteté, quand je vous ai dit que j'étais végétarien, je pensais que cela orienterait vos propositions vers quelque chose comme le lapin, ou le rat, pas vers le boa constrictor !
A ces mots un peu secs, le vendeur parut attristé. Baissant un peu la tête, il porta la main vers le cou - s'il était possible d'appeler ça un cou - du reptile comme pour le consoler... Celui-ci, tranquillement enroulé autour des épaules de l'homme, regarda les doigts se poser sur lui, en tirant la langue par intermittence. Quand mon interlocuteur releva enfin les yeux, je levai les miens au ciel.
- Vous m'aviez surtout dit que vous vous sentiez seul, et que vous vouliez un animal de compagnie. Je vous assure que vous n'aurez pas meilleure compagnie que ce serpent.
- F

Ficelle by L-Arbre

>sub>A fantastic short story involving medieval
elements as well as Aztec Gods. Interesting
mixture and a pleasure to read.

For more information, including how to suggest a Deviation
to be featured, please visit us at DailyLitRecognition.

Thanks so much for supporting the lit community and this project!

~ The DailyLitRecognition Team ~

Prepared by: SilverInkblot

Skin by SimplySilent