Deviant Login Shop  Join deviantART for FREE Take the Tour

The Journal Portal

Tune into the voice of the community by checking out deviantART's Journal Portal. Join the conversation by browsing, adding faves, and leaving comments, or submit your own Journal to let your voice be heard.

Submit Journal

Community Mood

  • Love
  • Joy
  • Wow!
  • Affection
  • Adoration
  • Love 22755
  • Joy 18478
  • Wow! 4703
  • Affection 1752
  • Adoration 1069


Are highly intelligent or very talented people better able to hide their misery from loved ones, thus making it all the harder to “read” them and help them?

Vote! (34,078 votes) 831 comments
56,913 Deviants Online

400 points giveaway + more!! [open]

Journal Entry: Sun Aug 31, 2014, 11:42 AM
edit: Wow! I woke up to almost 600 faves! So I'll add two more prizes!! 
And for some reason, I almost have 600 watchers too! :'O Wow I got like 80+ overnight!  Seriously, thank you all ;A;

Omigosh!! I just realized I reached +500 watchers! That's crazy!!!
Thank you all so much! ;w; ♥ 

The next giveaway will probably be when I reach 750 or 1000 watchers! (if I do of course). 

This giveaway will end Thursday September 4th 2014 ♥


♦All you have to do is fave this journal!!
♦ You don't have to be a watcher! But if you are or you decide to, thank you ;w; 
♦If you like, you could share this (pole, journal) but you don't have to c:


♦One winner will get 300:points:
♦ [new] A 2nd winner will get 100:points:
♦[new] A third winner will get a Pixel Background from me! Like this --> Lost in the forest by tea-hee

I'll be using a random generator!  probably

Again, thank you ALL for being so supportive ;w; <3 

  • Mood: Delighted
  • Playing: Skyrim
  • Drinking: water
KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth


KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth

Winners announced here:
Adopts and PM Raffle Winners Announced

Winners for the raffle are
Male adopts: #42 by :iconHi-ASL:
Female adopts: #164 by :icon7ry:
Prove image:
**The winners please note me to claim prize(s).


Winners for the raffle are
Prove image:
**The winners please note me to claim prize(s).

EDIT: I'm not a FOOL ok? The raffle is already closed, so STOP COMMENTING your entry.
Sorry for using hasty words but it seems that people nowadays are so ignorance to read WHAT'S in the journal.

EDIT2: Sorry for the late update. So this raffle has reached more than 500 entries. Then I shall add 1 more spot for another lucky winner.

There will be 3 winners to win 1 month pm.

It's raffling time....


EDIT: So this raffle has reached more than 100 entries. Then I shall add 1 more spot for another lucky winner.

There will be 2 winners to win 1 month pm.

How To Join:-
1)Fave the journal.
2)Leave an excited comment under the journal.

**Do not leave bad comments if you don't win.

I'll pick winner using random. org.

KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth


KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth

{OPEN/SET PRICE} Shota Cremes by sonyasim55(Reduced price!) Demon Familiar Adopt [OPEN] by cherskelleDragon Girl Random Adopt [open] by n-ostalgic[CLOSED] BJD adopt #4. by Aritsune-chanEMERGENCY ADOPTABLE_MEIWU XING IV [OPEN] by kura-ou[Custom] Mamemamono Adopt ver. Inari Guardians by mayoujiiAdopt 31 **Closed* by Elysa-AdoptsAdopt: Tsuki Hoseki [OPEN] by TiapossibleRhuuvi Auction - CLOSED by NaviciiDuskwalkers Adopts OPEN by reaper334Adoptable 16 [OPEN] by cunadoptscherry adoptable [closed] by Stop-wasting-time[CLOSED] Bat Kemonomimi Auction by Malficorum[OPEN] Witch Adoptable #02 + Bonus by Kaeni-AdoptsADPT 31 [closed] by natsuonFinal Image Result/adoptable by monsterownage[CLOSED] Adopt 17 by AhnikiMLFIM OC Auction (OPEN) by Nitrogoblins-AdoptsNaga Adopt [OPEN] by YKajitakaDrak Adopt Open by RhavkoressBlue And Yellow Nekomimi Adoption by LaydennGothic Lolita Adopt (OPEN) by jam-a-valNaruto rpc adoptbls(open) by Power-of-noInk Pen Demigoddess Adoptable [OPEN] by siyaArctic Fox  -OPEN- by BlioodKira[Adoptable 03] CLOSED by Banana-Banshee

KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth


KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth

FemaleAdoptables09(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdoptKemonomimiAdoptables22(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdoptKemonomimiAdoptables19(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdoptKemonomimiAdoptables24(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdoptKemonomimiAdoptables18(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdoptMaleAdoptables17(CLOSED) by PhrysethAdopt

KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth


KittyDivider by phrysethKittyDivider by phryseth

August Literature DD Round Up

Sun Aug 31, 2014, 10:15 AM
Features by IrrevocableFate 

Where Seagulls Dare    “There’s no escape, you know.”
    Thomas put his head on one side, slapping the water out of his ear. “Sorry?”
    “There’s no escape...from the island.” The heavily bearded man gave him a stare. “The same rocks that sank your vessel have defeated my every attempt at floating a raft.”
    “Oh.” Thomas wasn’t sure exactly what one was supposed to say in this situation. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
    “There’s food enough to get by here, if you don’t mind bitter roots, insects, sour berries. That’s almost the cruellest thing.” Beneath his stitched-leaf hat, his eyes gazed out to sea. “Compared with the open ocean, this place offers a fair chance of survival. But can it really be called living? Trapped here...on the island?”
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchin Blank EntryInspector Andel removed her contact screens and allowed herself a small sigh of nostalgia. She had borrowed a tablet from the archives department, and now weathered hands were flicking their way through cold case files. Hand-typed files. She'd almost forgotten that she used to deliver reports just like these.
"It's not the 20s any more, Andel. We don't use tablets."
Andel had been too absorbed to notice Dieter sneaking up on her until the overbearing git had pulled up a chair opposite. Dieter was tall, young, charismatic, and by all accounts was everything Andel was not.
"Cold cases," she said, with a lot less venom than she had intended, "It's the only way to view the reports."
Dieter leaned back and propped his feet up on her desk. "Ah yes, cold cases. Well I suppose you have to do something while your officers are out with the response teams."
She ignored the feet bouncing obtrusively at her. It was too late to say anything now – she had to pretend they never bothered h
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
dead dog julyI.
the summer heat lays limp in the city’s lap,
breathing long oppressive breaths.
it does not even lift its lolling head
to bark out hoarse indignancy
when a strange man brings the mail.
there might be heavy rain today,
they say,
brought by some swollen, murmuring cloud.
so what?
the world will whirl and howl,
then settle down,
to die a little more.
o, quickly, love,
press your back against the wall in fear
as the universe spreads her arms and
shuts her eyes
and starts to summon the end of all things.
o, quickly,
come with me
to the place of windows full of speechless afternoon
hot windy whispers of half-formed solutions and resolutions,
sweltering sunlit meadows we’ll wander and then forget.
o quickly, love,
let’s to the season of forgetting
and unwind all of our harshest memories
and fill the universe’s mouth
with mute cotton.
i’ll whisper these words to you some evening
with all my exigency in the hand i rest on your arm—
and you
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.

Features by GrimFace242

i vanish.a few excessive kilograms
adorn my body,
stubborn in their departure:
like an uninvited guest
too dense to perceive
the subtle hints i leave
on my skin;
not feeling as blessed as i
could have been
if i were
if i am too much
then why do i feel like
i am not enough
for the starved society
that eats away at my insides
& feeds me
empty, palatable lies,
(a fabricated portrayal of reality's demise)
leaving me wishing
that each bittersweet tear i cry
is enough to rid my body,
my healthy home,
of excess salt
all through my eyes;
not realising that the number
beneath my feet
does little to measure
each person who feeds
off of my kindness, my sincerity,
that each time i bleed
myself away
in a well fed wish
to vanish,
i'm just another one of society's prey
losing themselves
to what they weigh.
TransitionsRipping the sheets off of my bed.
Hopelessly trying to get these memories out of my head.
I toss and I turn.
When will this no longer burn?
I desire some passion and for these sweet little dreams,
To be something more than teenage love schemes.
Will you come back home and sing me to sleep.
Maybe those things could help you leap,
Over the moon and way past the stars,  
Finding a galaxy we can name ours.  
We can live there and rule all the land.
And don't worry my dear, we'll be hand in hand.
There'll be no nightmares, no more goodbyes.
Just tons of laughter and sweet lullabies.
I'll be your Queen, if you'll be my King.
Don't fester my dear, I'll need no precious ring.
I'm eternally yours in nightmares or dreams,
Even reality no matter what it seems.
I will always need you to help my eyes close,  
To keep away thoughts filled with low blows.
No matter what world we are in, one thing will always be true,  
You're always my hero and I will always love you.  
Tanka # 2affection transcends
seraph or adversary.
a fallen angel
is preferable to none -
doubtless even devils love.
Charred remains of a modern society    The little girl was dancing on the street, among the entrails of a once bustling suburb now strewn chaotically across the scorching asphalt. Her blithesome essence shone through her skin, in the whimsical way she twirled and threw her arms in the air, brushing her wayward curls aside. She crafted a dust storm and trapped the sunlight in her eyes, oblivious to the rubble sinking into her toes and the loaded gun in her brothers hand. 
   She fell, asphyxiated by her own storm as the bullet carved its way into her flesh. And as the last gleam of light left her eyes, poppies blossomed from the cracked pavement, their crowns swaying in the chemical laden wind the way the girl never would again. 
Thirty Three Percent"What are you doing?"
"I think…I finally figured out percentages."
"We learnt those in the third grade."
"Yeah, but we always complained that we'd never use them in real life."
"And you know how to use them in real life now?"
"Eighty four percent."
"What's that?"
"That's the percentage of how many basketball matches you lost to me when we were kids."
"That's not fair! You're taller than me!"
"Fifty two percent."
"Is that how much taller than me you are?"
"No. That's the percentage of times you speak out of turn and get into trouble for it."
"Very funny."
"Twenty three percent."
"Let me guess, that's how much I annoy you?"
"That's the percentage of times your mother told you she loved you when you were a child instead of the amount she should have."
"Seventy nine percent."
"I don't think I like this game anymore."
"That's how much of your heart loved that guy who broke it so completely callously."
"Look, I'm serious. Stop."
"Ten percent."
"Please stop."
"That's how sure you a
BombadilHe was there to form his songs
When the earth to none belonged
The singer saw no paths were laid
No footfalls yet in fen or glade
No hunter, plowman, prince or serf
Settled on this virgin earth
The sun was young, horizons free,
No mast or sail yet dot the sea
Not even high-born Elvin kind
Found this place in form or mind
His song began; he stood alone…
To fruit the earth—seed, nut and cone
Long he sang and forests grew
Frond and petal graced with dew
Mountains smoothed from gentle rains
Quenching thirst and growing grain
Vast in numbers, both bird and beast
Came to revel in his feast
Man-kind also settled there
Lordly men and damsels fair
Kings and kingdoms put each to test
Hobbled East—entombed the West
Shadows came from o’er the sea
From which all that's wholesome flees
This bestirred those long-dead Kings
And made them covet living things
Our Singer’s friends by chance drew near
They lay entranced and choked with fear
To succor friends at their great ne
eugenics in bulkBy the time she was twelve they had already decided she would marry a man who could run a five minute mile and speak seven languages.  They chose her a husband the same way they had chosen her eyes and her legs and the pale freckles that interrupted her nose - the same way their parents had designed their children and arranged their marriages, strategic.
Her father called her petite reine. He owned an antique chess board carved from ebony wood and maple.  Some days she'd sneak into the library, pry open the old chequered box and pick out one of the queens, and she'd turn it round and round, searching for imperfections. It was a plain, ugly thing, huge and fat in her tiny grasp.  She had wondered if he thought of her this way.  
She wondered the same now.  
Her hands were not her own.  A businessman in a white coat had grown them slender and strong, built her carbon fiber bones and nails like arrowheads.  Her mother reminded her of this when the
Ain't No Redemption - Chapter OneOf Gunpowder Deeds

    There are many ways to kill a man. A blade in the night, poison in his drink, or hands around his throat. For the unjust, who ride the wastes on malignant steeds, the question of death had many answers.
    To those who sit on the thrones of justice, with scrutiny in their eyes and the word of the law upon their tongues, the answer was the hangman's gallows or the headman's block.
    For he who stalks this Fragment, where the Deadman himself comes to play, the question of death has but one answer. But he is willing to repeat it six times.
    -From, The Lay of the Gunfighter,
    Thibian Crass, 3092 AFL
    The Deadman's Waste,
    The Fragment of Tume,
Glass MemoriesDearly Beloved,
Hey, love, it’s me again. It’s winter now – the icy wind throws itself at these stained cinderblock walls but to no avail; a wall works both ways.
A year has passed since I last spoke with you – a year already! No, I’m sure it was yesterday – a Monday.
I never did like Mondays.
I remember where we met. In the subway. You were the last to board a crowded train, I stood up as the wheels began to creak, glancing at you as I did so and nodding ever so slightly towards the empty seat. You laughed and called me a gentlemen, tucking those few strands of honey-colored hair behind your ear. Your nails were painted blue. Light blue. Like the sky.
The mass of people gradually thinned out as we neared the end of the route, until you and I were the only ones left in that car. We sat awkwardly next to each other – you twirling your hair and I fiddling with the buttons on my shirt cuff. I don’t know why I didn’t get up and move.
I'm An Again by ArgusPaul [songs of rain]forgiveness in the third chord,
like silence or the moment
artemis pulls the arrow free,
thanks the buck for his sacrifice.
lightning in my lungs.
saltwater in my lungs.
i, storm,
will rage & pass on.
what love is was a s l o p p y first kiss where
my drunk lips fumbled against yours.
the dull thwack of my heart,
locked behind curved ribs
cleared my groggy brain, 
clouded with lustful premonitions.
it was an e l e c t r i f y i n g first kiss where
you entwined your hands in my hair.
your mouth encompassed mine and
my breath became lost in the steady
of your chest.
it was a s h y first kiss where
i pulled away before you could explore.
your tongue grazed my teeth, 
searching for a way past the ivory gates.
i dug my finger into the stubble along your jaw,
my nail lulling your carnal desires.
it was my first kiss with you.
A Guide to Writing DialogueWhat is dialogue, exactly? The definition from Merriam-Webster’s dictionary was several lines long, so I shall summarize it in a short sentence for the sake of the readers; it’s the writing that illustrates conversations between two or more characters in a story. We read and hear it all around us, but creating it in your own work can be a challenge. However, if you find dialogue an obstacle in your writing, then don’t push the panic button. In this tutorial, you’ll find by analyzing what dialogue can do and how to use it, you can turn your greatest fear into your greatest ally in your story.
What dialogue is
Like I’ve asserted before, dialogue is basically what the characters are saying to each other. It can be found in multiple mediums such as books, movies, comics, video games, etc.  We even engage in dialogue daily without even thinking. When you talk to your best friend, a co-worker, or even your dog, you create dialogue. It’s exchang
FloodgatesWe’re lined up as we enter Year Seven.
Rulers are pulled out, skirts inspected. Three inches above the knee, no more.
Our skirts are millimeters too short. We hope to pass. If we pass, we’re allowed into the house. Those who don’t are sent home so their mothers can mend what’s broken.
They scour for torn hems, loose stitches, and find none. But Marissa filled out over the summer, and the back of her skirt rises up her thigh nearly an inch above an appropriate level. We share a knowing glance as she flows out of our line, thrust back into the office where someone will call her mother to gather her. Our mothers taught us to lean back when the ruler passed, to let the hem dip down to the creases of our knees. No one would know. When we pass, we share a silent victory.
When they can’t hear us, we whisper about Marissa’s chest, how red splotches cover her nose and cheekbones. We think she won’t come back, girls like her never do, and seventh years a
Pro-ChoicePro- Choice was a joke to me,
I learned that when I was young.
I myself was pregnant,
when I heard that word, it stung.
I was seventeen, a reckless young girl,
who with the love of my life, thought I could take the world.
But I was wrong, as I soon found out,
I had no idea, what life was really about.
There was suddenly this pain coursing through my stomach,
this thing was inside of me, and at first I didn't want it.
I talked to my 'boy friend', the one who I thought loved me,
but he left when he found out, he found another woman to cling.
I was all by myself with this leech in my system,
but I still didn't want it, can't they see that I’m the victim?
My parents understood, as well as my friends,
So I would get an abortion, no guilt I felt then.
The abortion clinic was small, it felt rather nice,
though the AC blew, it made me as cold as ice.
I scheduled an appointment, for the same time next week
I left the clinic, feeling a heavy weight upon my feet.
I went to the park just to
Short PoemHer eyes return my gaze,
A gentle “Hello” at first glance.
Those chocolate brown coloured eyes,
So full of love and compassion.
                                                           Without a sound from my lips,
                                                                 A solitary cry escapes.
                                                           Her serene marble-like stare,
AndromedaAmongst the darkened skies
Brightened by only starlight
Children play
Delightfully across
Every land,
Field & Sea.
Gravity is only an afterthought
Hilltops become ladders into the sky while
Inferior planets stare down upon the Earth
Jealous of such simplicity yet contemplating grandeur.
Keppler only thought of science
Linear, elliptical, movement…
Mythology had no such thoughts
Neptune & Nebulas both inhabit space
Orbiting across the lonely darkness
Probably never worried about mundane things
Questioning their existence
Right now or for all eternity such as us.
Shooting stars make us joyful while
Terminator is an otherworldly spectacle
Unknown to all those hidden in their houses
Various stars await us outside
Waiting to play like we did before
Xenagogue & inviting
Youthful but ancient curiosities.
Zenith induced euphoria continues until daylight…
You Were Not An Aquarium BoySea-glass became your bones,
brine your blood, and seashells
melded into your skin.
You were not quite an ocean
when you said "This is your sign to love me."
My body was like a building;
tall, cold, almost unbreakable.
I was metallic and sharp,
towering over your waters.
I remember taking your hand in mine,
conch and coral shells scrubbing
my skyscraper wrists, and laughing
about how one day you would
submerge every last bit of me.
Your lips, riddled with argonauts,
found my cheek and I cringed
at the coarseness.
You asked if they bothered me
and I finally told you "I
think I love you."

Features by neurotype

Teacher's Pet Sneaks Out"Not my roses, mate."
I freeze with one foot on the edge of the garden. The groundsman glares at me from under his tangled brows. He snaps his shears and snips a twig off the top of the bush. "Not this year."
I flash an apologetic grin and disappear into the stream of kids heading to class. I can hear the 'snick-snick' of the shears behind me until I round the corner of B block. The bougainvillea climbing up the fence has been picked clean of flowers and even the dandelions growing from the cracks in the concrete are gone. Clearly I wasn't the only kid who forgot to bring flowers today.
The bell rings right above me and I clap my hands over my ears. Ow! Well, I can't be late. Especially not today. Besides, from the amount of flowers missing from the gardens there should be enough that Ms Carpenter won't notice I forgot mine.
The hinge of my trumpet case squeaks as it swings in my hand, slapping me against the leg. As much as I love my new backpack, it's a pain it's too small to put it
Through all this LightThere's no nighttime here,
not really,
                no scrap of honest darkness.
Just the garish lights and forsaken spaces 
                                                            vacant of cars and people 
                                                                                                and all their daytime amenities.
How is a man to find his way through all this light?
It isn't right, this open kind of darkness,
but some things cannot be unwound,
Samantha DunmoreEverything started five years ago. The president and congress tried to change the immigration policy. The new stringent laws would force the US back to a more isolationist viewpoint, a pre-World War II U.S. The theory was we could focus on our crumbling economy and other internal issues. Most people didn’t see how this would help and there were protests, but the proposed policies angered some powerful werewolves.
There was a large werewolf population who had been in the US for one or two generations and they brought family members and friends from Eastern Europe, Asia, and South America in droves. These packs owned businesses, managed to get workers' visas for their families, and staffed shops and warehouses with their kin. They reunited packs that had once been separated by oceans. Their secrets were relatively safe from human interference thanks to the enterprising nature of many alphas. Money moved a lot of it along and when you have a pack of thirty to forty sometimes even a
The Girls My Mama Warned Me About--- FFM Day 3You see, the thing my mama would never understand is that a woman needs to have her friends. I’m not talking about the girls she meets in a book club that she randomly signed up for online, or the ones she calls friends but never sees outside of the breakroom at work. No, I mean real friends. The girls she’ll always surround herself with, like a queen does a court.
  I had my girls, and my mama didn’t necessarily approve of them. She thought I partied with them too much, and often told me that I needed to give it a rest. But, these were my girls! My best friends! I don’t think Mama has ever had girls like I did. They’ve never abandoned me, and I could never have dreamt of abandoning them.
   My girls were so unique. Each one was as different as the colors of the rainbow. There was Vonda and Teena, the two wild girls I met at a party some time while I w
My First PetI felt like such an outcast.  A loser.  I mean, really.  I’m descended from Edon, the God who watches over the planets in Zeta Euthenia but I’m the only one who didn’t have one of my own.  So embarrassing.  
Dad says I’m not ready.  He won’t let me share, he won’t even let me hang out at the Pluto’s galaxy.  He said it’s a bad neighborhood.  I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Dad, you in here?”
He was so big, it was hard to even see him.  Typical, he’s everywhere and nowhere.
“Yes, Kayus, what is it now.”
Ugh, I don’t need his attitude.
“I wanted to talk to you about getting a planet.” I said.
“We’ve been over this and over this, Kayus.”  His voice hurt my ears.  And he wonders why I don’t like talking to him.  “Not until you’ve proven you can handle the responsibility.”
GrandfatherI recall,
He was white.
But, not the
--"controversial at political dinner parties" and "this racist comment will cost him the election kind"--
Stark, snowy, riveting white.
His hair was always victim to the static that came from
resting against
the mountain of pillows that topped off his hospital bed.
He always lay there,
a beacon in the middle of the dark, mudd brown, living room.
I suppose it was hell to live the last of his life there,
but at six, I thought he was God,
living on a cloud that was Heaven.
I remember his warm hands, their blue lines, and their wrinkles,
the way his smile never met his eyes--
and his eyes said he had more in his mind than his mouth could say.
I would study him for hours while he slept,
Hoping he would wake up, be glad that I was there to cure his loneliness,
and give me secrets to the world.
Once in awhile, I was lifted to the wintery heights of his bed,
Set beside him to talk.
And his warm hands would cup over mine,
Whilst I told him about the dandelio
FaeriefireWe all hid when the faeries dueled.
You and I were in the closet, wishing to each other half-secretly among the motes that the duels could be rare as dragons, at least.  Instead they were only rare as quarter-moons.
Ground liquifies, sometimes, during a duel.  The stars brighten and fall faster, leaving holes in the ground and setting forests alight.  The sun hides in a bird’s nest, they say.
We did not see when the damage was done.  We were accustomed to avoiding to know even the names of those who fought.  Our eyes were far from windows.
But duels always ended the day after they began, and we stepped out as if we were free.
Your eyes caught the light first, and when I followed them my air caught in my throat.  Like going underwater without the protection of a mermaid.
That day our world was on fire.  The glass of the town hall had melted to colorful puddles on the ground.  Some houses were gone - some people too, I realized.  Surviva
TrivelaJanice didn't rush towards the dome wall. She limped as fast as she could, shifting weight to her good foot, painfully moving forward. She splayed her hands on the transparent wall and gazed at the growing crack. I realized I was holding my breath - everyone was - but I relaxed when the crack stopped growing. Janice sighed, lowered her head and just stood there, hands still on the wall, her silhouette framed by the red sand outside.
I wanted to get up from the gray grass, to tell Janice it was all going to be okay. I wanted to tell her it was just a surface crack and that I would fix it in the morning, before I did my rounds checking the air conditioning. It would take me just a few minutes and it wasn't a big deal, it was just a matter of using a liquid neoplexiglass gun to refill it. The wall was fine and I was sure Janice knew it. I couldn't understand why she looked so upset. Was it their leg? Was it hurt that bad?
"It just… burst," Janice said, not even bothering t
love people"We call everything a river here."
                    --Richard Brautigan
there's a love parade
this sunday
beautiful blue and white houses
spill children into the street
like beads of happy colored glass--
music all over.
the trees are spring,
fall, and summer,
apricot angels
green yellow maples
all love people
two moons to a face
I think of a quiet
pebbled stream in this moonlight
and a younger woman,
like a single brush of ink,
dipping softly,
as the pebbled stream dips,
into winter, or untimed wild.

Features by ShadowedAcolyte

making teain a warmed pot
hot water and tea leaves
meet in an intimate embrace
pleased by the tea leaves' attentions
the water becomes a sweet golden nectar
but the water is a cruel lover
and she turns bitter if held too long
so the tea leaves are left behind
tired and used, forgotten
the water has taken what she wants
consensus + AUDIOconsensus
i told you that night i would forget, but you
were too busy thinking
of when to see me
overdosing on bedsheets and sunshine we were salty and guttural tides -
i had all but forgotten the smell behind your ear, the softness
of your throat when it growls in hunger
the comforting shape of your head under my clumsy hands, that
familiar taste on the tip of you, pulling us
apart and together again
but we overlooked the bitterness
of candy-coated chimeras
the call of their acidic tongues)
next year’s crop should be better, the almanac said;
we chose to believe it
go east; the trees whispered
the snow took away their breath leaving me here
with onions to peel and tears to wipe
noticing them you mentioned winter
would last longer
i agreed
-Sophie, january-february 2014
Originally published in issue #25 of "Up the Staircase Quaterly"
The Son, the Father, and Whatever is HolyDo you ever stop to think about those
Old, old stories bound in myriad cantos?
The kind that are all in iambs and Latin
Or Italian – the language of a world in the grip
Of a renaissance that is seeping drip by drip
Into a darkened age, like so much lantern oil.
I do, but for purely selfish reasons –
I think of them as balm for lesions
That keep popping up in my mind.
Lesions, mind you, that are not literal –
They are but the inlets in the littoral
Region of my morbid thoughts.
When the inlets get flooded, I build leather
Boats to keep myself afloat. Whether
I construct them well is up to interpretation.
I cling to the old stories in cadent verse –
When I am particularly low I rehearse
Them aloud – as my mode of survival.
He never understood that, though –
He never really could, and no
Matter how I tried, it was no use.
He didn’t see that for me finishing
The rhyme kept me from diminishing
Into slow-burning insanity.
It hurts me more than him, t
WaitingGod never takes a number
at the DMV. He sits on the broken
chair wobbling over jaundiced
tiles and watches people come and go.
Young drivers, nervous and cocky;
mature drivers renewing tags;
muddled drivers taking a fifth picture.
God never takes a number
because He understands waiting
for what seems to be eternity –
for a plan to unfold, for His
work to be done, for Lucifer
to come home – and appreciates
the company of impatient
souls, longing to be elsewhere.
Don't Fall In Love With A Writer               Just because they will bruise your neck with pearls of metaphors; and splash palettes of colours onto your chest with reckless waves and boundless twilight. They will smear ink onto your lips as you kiss them because that is how they leave hickeys. They are wildest in their 2 a.m. diary, and liveliest in book racks of novels; they have butterflies in every heartbeat and they breathe living poems. They leave trails in libraries and coffee shops like Hansel leaves crumbs in forest and they have undying lovers because every love story is ever living in their abyssal oceans of analogies and similes. They know every cliché like the sunset knows the moon rise, and every wound in their heart like blood in their veins. They are terrifying because they weave you in splinters of fires rolling down their cheeks. They are weird because they don't smile much but sometimes you could catch their smiles in poems or tales. They are psychotic b Bad LuckCharlie Muldoon didn't have bad luck, he was bad luck. That morning, for instance, a black cat had jumped to the street from a negligently open window just as Charlie had walked under it, causing severe gridlock and near-accidents as lanes upon columns of motorists swerved to avoid the animal crossing their path; a truck, boasting by its bright side banner to be transporting M. Salt's Aromatic Spices, missed the cat but failed to keep itself upright, spilling into the motorway and colliding with a hover trailer; a hover trailer that, as it happened, had been hauling the Hall of Mirrors to the carnival grounds just outside the City's limits; but the soft tinkling and dusty glints which showered the street belied the possibility of its further amusements. And all before he'd swiped his first swill of Insta-Caff at the automat down the block from his apartment. 
Charlie ducked his head as he absentmindedly stepped under a ladder, intent on re-buttoning his jacket. He'd missed a butto
Liquor is one way out an'death's the other The art of growing up,
is to pour shots of whiskey                                            
into your coffee in the morning
to make it through
the day.
when all you want to do
is lie in bed
but there’s nothing
about that
Crumb TigerCrumb Tiger
Nasrudin was throwing handfuls of crumbs around his house. "What are you doing?" someone
asked him. "Keeping the tigers away." "But there are no tigers in these parts." "That's
right. Effective, isn't it?"

                                     Idries Shah
The tiger is coming up to the house.
He has something to show you, and it is fear.
You discarded so many mouldered loaves
the tiger learned to see the body in the bread.
But he moves and gets nowhere, turns the world,
and the world rolls him on its back.
What he would ask you is whether he has a soul.
His flesh will not disintegrate in the rain.
What he would ask is what the difference is
between a tiger and a hunk of bread.
He means to stop by a tree and rake the bark,
he means to shake the tension from his muscles
but the tiger's been taken out of the tiger.
He is a vessel, a bandwidth, a frequency.
Only his red mi
CaitlinLike Escher's hands,
You and I
Fashion one another,
Into being.
Cresting Peakscresting snow capped peaks,
peppered with blue spruce;
and nothing has ever
taken my breath away
like soaring with the lark bunting
and plummeting down
to brush against the columbines.
oh, there's no rush quite like
entering DIA and passing by
the sinister statue, saturated
in blue and adorned with
ruby red eyes,
permanently rearing
it's hooves towards the
rolling plains.
circling the stadium,
a sea of navy disrupted
only by that
of the fierce
orange and white bronco emblem,
the home team
we all hate to love
and love to hate.
standing on the back porch,
watching the sun sink
behind the crowned borders
of our beloved state,
there's no skyline
like ours that feels like home
as the fading light reflects
off of the towering city buildings.
swaying and clapping
surrounded by rust red rocks
that resonate with
sound waves and the beating
of our hearts,
and the exhaling
of altitude adjusted lungs.
hiking through blue grama grass
never felt so good,
our red carpet
for prideful and passionate fe
             like phantoms
                                   cross our paths
unseen                       except
             for their effects
                             every poem begins with sometimes
every dream begins with maybe
Love Letters from a Typhoon
Wind skirting patches into the tall grass
on 왁도 island, pretty like
the day before a typhoon--she hangs
in the morning fog that clears after the work is over,
and I can see for miles to 동화도, a few orange and blue pagodas
and the lake in the valley bellow.  The wind continues,
but I am losing her again and I want it to stop.
The sun licking the dew out of the trees as it sets
behind the eastern peak of 상왕 mountain,
her lips and the thought of music on her beach,
the opera with her mournless black dress,
how to write this in a letter to her after.
Nervous MovementYou're a dime a dozen in a sea of billions.
Individuality has no significance in numbers so vast.
And while this fact makes looking forward hard
we can't keep living in the past.
You're a nervous movement in a freeze frame scene.
Steady hands won't help hold up such a fragile act.
And while you take your time keeping character
you fake what you can't take back.
With nothing more than a thought we form our actions
and this is where we extinguish the lie they tried to invent.
The lie that we painted our lives without passion
well conclusions are useless with no attempt to commence.
You're a song I can't name stuck in my head.
I've  listened to you before and probably will again.
And while I can hum the melody all day long waiting
for it to hit me I still won't know where you've been.
You're a gust that has never changed direction.
Nothing can touch you you're only felt as you brush skin.
And while you can't be stopped nothing lasts
nothing escapes time not even the wind.
With nothin

It's difficult to feel motivated and stay focused on our goals all the time. But how to achieve what we want, how to not let procrastination stand in our way?

Here are some of my thoughts about the topic and I hope that they might be helpful.  :) (Smile) 

1. Set goals
Think about your ultimate goal - what is that matters to you the most, what would make you incredibly happy and excited. Write that down and work your way through to it. It will be the reason, the reminder for you to look forward in those times, when you'll feel less motivated. 
Try to write also weekly, monthly and yearly goals - be reasonable and realistic regarding that, but don't be afraid of challenges. They have to be S.M.A.R.T. - Specific, Measurable, Attainable, Relevant, and Timely. 

2. Plan tasks in previous day
Make a list of what you want to accomplish in the next day, prepare all the necessary tools, workspace. Be ambitious, but think of what would be the best choices to make. For example, write 3 tasks for next day - then do them and see the results. If you narrow the tasks and plan accordingly, you will feel less overwhelmed and you won't need to think whether you should do them and you'll procrastinate less, as you won't have to make decisions, just do the things on list.   

3. Use schedules
As boring as it may sound, but schedules can have a great impact on your workflow. 
There is this wonderful "One Week Practice Schedule" by WojciechFus, and it's amazing for planning studies accordingly to your needs and maintaining focused discipline in order to become a better artist. 
Also take a look at another Art Study Schedule by Suzanne-Helmigh, that is more focused on certain time constraints and allowing to make your own personalized schedule. 

4. Know your most efficient hours
Analyze when you feel the most inspired and motivated to work, what is the time of the day when you're the most efficient. Then on those hours put your full focus and do the most important work. Don't allow distractions stay in your way when you're the most productive. Work smarter, not harder - think about more productive ways to get things done. 

5. Use the deadlines 
Deadlines can be a tough and frightening thing. Use them in your advantage - whether it's a commission of personal project. Mark that in the calendar or in visible place. Knowing that there is limited time, can motivate you to not slack off and use every moment that you have in order to be closer to accomplishing the task or finishing an artwork. 

6. Stay organized
It's easy to get confused when things are messy - start with your workspace and put things and tools where they should be, so when you would need them you would know exactly where they are. Try to sort your folders in desktop, having inspiration folders, music, videos in a certain place can be useful - also naming files according to what they contain, not asdfgfjk.jpg, can be great when you will need to find them later on. 
While it's been said that messiness can lead to some sort of creativity, sometimes there needs to be a clean and prepared workspace for "happy accidents" to even happen. 

7. Do research 
Read about succesful people, not only artists, but those who have achieved a lot and have wonderful and inspiring lifes. Learn what helped them to get where they are now, study their creative habits, mindset. Through podcasts/audiobooks there is a way to listen to them and their thoughts, while working on your own stuff. Don't be afraid to ask questions, but be cautious and respect the time of the other person, by looking on their website/interviews whether they have already answered those questions and choosing to ask meaningful things. 

8. Don't allow yourself to procrastinate all the time
Think about how well you spend your time. There is a chrome app - Motivation that displays your current age and when you see how your time passes when opening new tab - it can add some sense of how fast time really goes by. 
Install StayFocusd to block certain websites when you need that, disconnect from internet if necessary. 
Check your social media sites, e-mail at certain time of the day.
It's easy to fall in the repetitive cycle of wasting your time, then feeling guilty and anxious about that and then, in order to feel better and forget that - by wasting your time even more. We can't run away from what needs to be done and putting most important tasks till the very last moment is not the right choice. Perhaps it worked well in the school, but in real life - your are in charge of what you do. 
What you do today can improve all your tomorrows.

9. Reward yourself
Even if it's a cookie, episode of favorite tv show, great movie, new art supplies - sometimes rewarding yourself after a hard work can motivate you to succeed. Thinking about the reasons why you are doing a certain task and combining this with rewards can do miracles in terms of motivation and lead to better results. 

10. Do the work
Start doing what you need to do. 
Don't allow doubts and thoughts that you will fail to stand in your way. 
Just start.
It's the most difficult thing, but once you do something, it becomes more easier to continue.
Start with small things, get in the mood (even if you don't feel like it), sometimes all it takes is an action. 
Productivity is never an accident. It is always the result of a commitment to excellence, intelligent planning, and focused effort. -- /Paul J. Meyer

So, how about you - what are your thoughts about productivity? 

This week I found some lovely resources - amazing video of closer look at the Guardians of the Galaxy UI concepts, design and animation by Territory Studio, creative comic - "Being good to each other is so important, guys." by Nate, this epic, yet hilarious and silly SNL digital short, talented guitar player Trench on vine (he has some great tabs in his blog), this great masterlist of resources for those who are going back to school and a cool animated video "Annie" by Gobelins. 

P.S. I quite frequently post some sketches and artworks in my art tumblr - and I have a weekly Music Sunday post on  and weekly 8 songs playlist.
and a youtube art channel:) (Smile) 

Have a wonderful week!

"Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars.”
― Norman Vincent Peale

Softness-art: Weekly feature XXVII

Journal Entry: Sun Aug 31, 2014, 4:02 AM

Into The Motion by Sigurd-Quast
The Beckoning by kkartDingalan Tidelands by raijinnathan
Joyeux 14 Juillet ! by ValentinOffner
C o m e Alive With Me by GrotesqueDarling13... by absentii
Fire and Water by IndigoSummerr
Removal by NataliaDrepinapilina by SvetaCosmos
Java by eulalievarenne
A simple detail by mirazuMarie by Angirias
The Wine Box by xBassxHarmingx
Isabella by Dapicturefrozen days - invisible world* by AlicjaRodzik
Bed Time Stories by ThePiggieWheek
Honorata by fineussMasha5 by piesong
sunshine hd wallpaper by ezorenier
...imotski I... by roblfc1892Yet still inside I felt alone by deadlychris
A Mirror of Infinity by borda
Keeper Of The Sun by mrxthanhD511 by miobi
Wonderful forest by lesyakikhLupins by Atinaj
225 / 365 by OliviaRosePhoto
Rejects by IvanAndreevich... by absentii
Golden Hour by Mr-Vin
Whispers of autumn 2 by ilvahaustManya by anaispopy
small visitors by CliffWFotografie
IMG 9718-web by warhammerphotoSound Souls: Ed Sheeran - I See Fire IV by JotVelZet
summer breeze by baravavrova
Hopes by SmashedintoyouAsylum by JeanFan
Desert Sage by M3LL0N-3MDiana by NataliaCiobanu
calluna by tsiganesummer time by all17
Ryo Love by Hart-Worx
Parapluie by JunnyPhotographyDreamer From Another World XII by Michela-Riva
Dancing survivors by EclipxPhotography
Silhouetted Dawn by QuestaviaDue by LorenzoDiFolco
Sweet Dreams by SpademmHeather Mix by Justine1985
Stand out from the rest by pqphotography
After the rain by RezzanATAKOLEduarda Mitra by ClaudiaFMiranda
Captive Heart by MyLifeThroughTheLens
Driftwood Future (photograph, double exposure) by AugenStudiosLife Wasted by werol
Everytime You Go by MartinStranka
Foggy Rocks by Disturbed666666232 / 365 by OliviaRosePhoto
Hanna by aufzehengehenTethys by MKAphotography
Decaying Forest I by KXZXW
In Love III by FlexDreamsUntil I Wake Up.. by Khomenko
Luminous Night by MikkoLagerstedtFacing The Waterfall by CalleHoglund
Claudia by MiseryArtwork
Catcher by IndigoSummerrSonnet for a rainy day by arefin03
Burj Khalifa at Sunset by IsacGoulart
Autumn Lament by Brad-Grove5D0A1056-web by warhammerphoto
BMO by IndigoSummerrInto the Blue.. by dragonfly-oli
Tree by AnitaAnti
Dreamer From Another World VII by Michela-RivaFrozen by naked-in-the-rain
Illumination by Wheels-Of-Joy
Ocean Memories by arefin03Summer Play by sternenfern
Lord Ladybird by all17Soulmates never die by kittycrime
Sarina by EmilySoto
Ladybird by alexgphoto191.365 Make A Wish by PiecesOfAnsley
Green Green Green by DenisaKc
Litte cutie by Riderofthewind95081414 by kristianna11
Parrot Nicki Minaj by all17
Afterwords by DariaPitakTHE SILENCE OF DEW DROPS by M0THart
-Forgotten treasure of the woods- by Janek-SedlarAnna by IlonaShevchishina
Einklang by RonnyEngelmann
Nature's Way by black-bear-2014short night tale by maybe-paper-hearts
Andrea by Norrington1Desolated Earth by PersephonaLight
The Long Road by caitlin-may
Tenderness by SkvitsIn Motion by machihuahua
Bohemian Garden V by -rainman
Ophelia has a dream.. by BloodyKissesLadyDeep in a Dream by ADotInTheUniverse
Tree by Leona-Snow
Night Sky by carlostheKaire by TriinErg
Urbanfobia by AlexandruCrisanSquare-123 by SblourgImperfection by AlexandruCrisan
silent for so long by StefanBeutler
Little planets. by dragonfly-oliHanna by aufzehengehen
A rainy day V by Alessia-Izzo
Far Out by IzwanshahBig Ben says 5 to 1 by BrunoCHATARD
Simplicity by Alyphoto
One among the others by baspunkIdentity by DariaPitak
Mirroring by AlexandruCrisanJean-Paul-91 by Sblourg
lost in her thoughts by malenka740715
Skogafoss 1 | Iceland by JacktheFlipper-deOla by 13noise

This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast

Light Hunters Feature #85

Journal Entry: Sat Aug 30, 2014, 8:46 AM

Enjoy some of the recent additions to our gallery

This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast

GDD Contest: To tell a story

Sat Aug 30, 2014, 9:08 AM

GetDailyDeviations  is hosting an exciting contest for you ALL to participate in! We hope you're all very eager to create and submit your entries, please read the description, rules, and guidelines below!


To Tell a Story:

The theme of this contest is to tell a story, which is vague, but also very to-the-point. All artwork tells a story whether it intends to or not, as we all interpret what we wish to, when we see it. Your goal for this contest is to create a piece of art, with a specific story in mind. It can be your story, the story of someone you know, it can be fictional, it can be short, it can be sad, it can be happy. It can be anything! Be creative, unique, think outside of the box, or go to the basics. But your story must match the art you create to go with it (unless it is a literature submission in which obviously the writing is the story in itself).   

Rules & Guidelines:

Gold bullet Your submission must be a NEW deviation. You must have created it specifically for this contest, and posted it from August 30th onward. We will be checking, and declining submissions of old art.
Gold bullet In the description of your deviation you must state: This is for the GetDailyDeviations "To Tell a Story" contest. + a description of your story. This is very important. You must explain the story your art is describing, I recommend your description be at least a paragraph long. You want us to be impressed, you want us to see that this is something you put time and thought into creating and describing for us.
Gold bullet Please try to put some thought and time into your submissions, we will be looking for submissions in which: The art submitted has high quality, but also the story you tell in your description, is of quality, and fits well with your art. 
Gold bullet All mediums are accepted! So long as you have a "story" and follow the rules described above, your submission should be accepted into the contest folder.
Gold bullet All submissions are to be sent to the "To Tell a Story" Gallery folder, NOT the Featured folder. Also, you must be a member to submit.
Gold bullet You are only allowed 1 submission to this contest, so create, choose, and submit wisely!


Deadline: October 1st, 00:01AM PST


If you would like to offer prizes please let us know and we will update the list.

Manga/Anime DD Roundup - August 2014

Sun Aug 31, 2014, 8:00 AM
This is my 3rd giveaway.

Want to win 100 points?
Rules are simple.

1. Fav this journal to enter(This will be your number)
2. Watch me only if you like my work.
3. Comment done.

Yep you are now done just wait till the results are announced.
Winner will be selected from

If more than 60 people enter then i will increase the number of winners to 3 and points to 200.
Open till 4th September.

Anyone who wants to help me or want to place a prize is welcome.


Journal Entry: Mon Sep 1, 2014, 3:31 AM
Hello beasties, 

A selection of works that deserve your attention.

Teleidoscope 2014 - Tempest by DesireeDelgado Above The Clouds by EnchantedWhispersArt Lady portrait by JiaJenn31 Untitled by VICTORSKELET The Night Stylist by vacuumslayer Octopus woman by SoulcolorsArt 

The Governess by vampirekingdom Time Portal by Notvitruvian Stories of a hero by Altair-E the veil by magicsart 

. by OlAleksandra Rail road by JiaJenn31 Incubi by LenteScura Dream watcher by tamaraR Pandora's box by Manink 

Greenpy by wiksa Sick Media by MademoiselleKati Odile by IrKos Black Beauty by Katarina-Zirine GOLDEN LADY by Bojan1558 

Ici et Ailleurs by Marjie79 Energy by Lhianne Stille Kom Doden by LadyxBoleyn Forest Queen by Black-B-o-x Wanderer by FictionChick 

Awaken the soul by dangerous-glow The Magic of Nature by AndyGarcia666 Tarot by Manink Papillon by JacquelineLecocq Celestial Warrior Gabriel by Carlos-Quevedo 

Red Queen by MirellaSantana Blood Lust by mavigozlum Tenebris by octobre-rouge discoverer by beyzayildirim77 Weather ........ by Notvitruvian Dream Maker by Black-B-o-x 

The Executioner by Sandra-Cristhina Whatever She Wants by Flobelebelebobele Circus came by IrKos Bring Me to Life by Emerald-Depths Home by Neighya Lass Mich Fallen by ChristabelleLAmort 

My little Paradise 4 by IgnisFatuusII Walk in the Fog by Sisterslaughter165 Jellyfish by PerlaMarina Free by OlAleksandra In Tears by babsartcreations Parched by Poplavskaya 

In-the-forest by AnitaCreation ... by absumaniac Heart of Stone by pjenz Next stop: Earth by ErikShoemaker In the forest by Bathoriya 

Morena by Flobelebelebobele Structures From Silence by MoodyBlue Luna de Agosto by maiarcita Precognition by SpokeninRed 

Nike Factory by KellyNGin work in process by Alizadeh-Art The final journey by megan7 Light Beam 02 by transe 

The Forgotten by alexnoreaga Sounds Of The Past by j3ff3rson Volad by MariaJoseHidalgo dronning af knoglen by Celairen 

Silent Running by crilleb50 Dreamers by robhas1left Mermaid's cave by ElenaDudina Always on my mind by CrisestepArt ...Time To Go  Darling... by SweediesArt 

Remembering You... by Corvinerium Fly High Nick by Teddy-Cube Agnes Medusa Lisse 2014 by babsartcreations What`s Yours Is Mine by Nikulina-Helena 

Spring by Enamorte cat and goldfish by xuanlocxuan Comission. by Valkiria19 Womb by Alcove New York, New York by LauraHolArt 

Harley Quinn by Blossom-of-Faelivrin Ballet Tale by Abanna Night Creatures VIII: Frankenstein Bride by Chuchy5 Tudor court dress by DanielleFioreModel The Clown II by MADmoiselleMeli Pittura IV by MarinaCoric 

dark mind by rt13rosca Tired by MarinaCoric ... by Arwenlindorie Denial by DustOfReason The Makings Of A Good Day by EvaPolly 

Thanks for looking, have a great week!

Judas out.

This Journal Skin was designed by Night-Beast