for unseeing eyesladen with skyfor unseeing eyes3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
and painted mockingbirds
on loveless branches
folding in our slender limbs
and ducking under our own
voices, fidgety and frail
against the wall of night.
between the dipping blades
and drawn shoulders
we learned to craft our words
a drumming rain
that carved canyons
in open hearts and
drew the sunshine to
our supping lips.
keen-eyed, we watched
remembering the weight
of unseeing eyes
and scalding remarks
and we learned to slip
the noose-knots and slide
through the soul-cracks
build kingdoms under
with lyrical uncertainty
and tender determination
we built a pyre of peace
in the shadows
and watched it blaze
the truth across our
as new leaves still curled
and stretching hands
unfurled in suppliance
we lifted our heads
in broken laughter,
for this light is our burden,
and even a whisper
can shatter silence
and bring the blind
i) Wanderlusti),i) Wanderlust3 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
The first time I met the girl who started a revolution the sky was throwing down so much rain it felt like we were underwater. It was hard to breathe; and maybe that was because of all the rain, but probably it was because I looked at her face, under this dark red hood, and inside I was a story with all these feelings I could never say. I guess those feelings could only ever become words on paper - words in ink - not the kind I could ever speak aloud to anybody, if only because I couldn't bear for a person to see the look on my face while I remembered. Despite how good it felt - so hopeful, so desperately happy for what it was and could become - at the same time it was drowning in this sea, like the sky that day, for the way that everything else wasn't. And I said, what's your name?
At first we called her August when I brought her back to Jack's flat, which his parents paid for mostly, and which we used for getting high, mostly. She curled up in the armchair and rarely left it from
Vanya Wolfshadow character sheetVanya Wolfshadow character sheet3 years ago in Profiles More Like This
Female Rashemaar human Clr6 of Mystra/Wiz10/Hth2: CR 16; Medium-size humanoid (human); HD 6d8+12 plus 10d4+20 plus 2d4+4; hp 105; Init +7; Spd 30 ft.; AC 23 (touch 13, flat-footed 20); Atk +15/+10 ranged (1d4+1/19-20, +2 returning spell storing throwing dagger) or +14/+9 melee (1d6+4 plus 1d6 cold/x2, +3 defending frost brand shortspear) or +11/+6 melee (1d4+1/x2, Vryll's whip) or +13/+8 ranged touch (by spell) or +11/+6 melee touch (by spell); SA Turn undead 6/day; SQ Aura, cohort, familiar (cat), place magic, spontaneous casting; AL NG; SV Fort +13, Ref +8, Will +19; Str 13, Dex 16, Con 14, Int 20, Wis 17, Cha 16. Height 5 ft. 3 in.
Skills and Feats: Concentration +25, Decipher Script +15, Diplomacy +14, Handle Animal +5, Heal +12, Knowledge (arcana) +26, Knowledge (geography) +7, Knowledge (history) +15, Knowledge (religion) +14, Knowledge (the planes) +12, Move Silently +6, Perform (dance) +5, Sense Motive +9, Spellcraft +30, Survival +5; Combat Reflexes
Nonno's GardenIt’s strange to think that you’re not here anymore.Nonno's Garden2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
I remember when we were younger and we’d arrive to see you. The first place we’d go was to the window, pressing our faces against the glass to try and catch a glimpse of you. We’d look out, and you’d be there. Like you always were. In the garden.
Each trip was different, an adventure. There were rows of neatly sown lettuce seeds, bean stalks twice as tall as we were, ripe strawberries just waiting to be found by our greedy little fingers. Tomatoes would be taken and made into sauce, lemons would be squeezed to create limoncello, grapes transformed into a sticky grape jelly which tasted of summer and childhood dreams.
I kneel down and gently touch the small weeds which are beginning to sprout. I can feel the soft, moist soil. I remember your weathered hands sifting through it, removing the weeds that now grow from the ground. It’s hard to believe that I’m now alone, in the place whe
The Doppelganger 2The book still sings to me, and that's when I pull it from under my bed and stroke the cover. But I never open it, because I know what happens if I do it wrong. It's still blank; but only of ink. I know the secret, you see. It's how I understand the songs, and know the melodies it echoes up to me, through time. There are impressions hidden in the pages- spilled mead and raucous laughter, summer sunshine and frost on dead leaves. The last time I tried feeling them from start to finish, I passed out from the sheer weight of knowledge, and it left my brain scrambled for ages.The Doppelganger 23 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I found out things about my past and my family's past. I have Irish on my dad's side of the family, stretching back generations. I'd have said I was surprised when I found out, but that would have been a lie.
People say I've changed since last spring. My face is thinner, my eyes are brighter, I've been "brought out of myself." What they don't know is that I've actually met myself. I've taken to wearing rich, d
white noiseThe only thing that seems to keep the world out of my head these dayswhite noise2 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
is white noise
it's a rush of excitedly flapping wings
it's nothing you could grasp but a sound and a colour that is none
I try to keep the world out
(she is playing her music too loud too much these days)
and I think of you, ears buzzing with white noises until they ache.
And I catch myself thinking
I wish you were my white noise -
the sound in between my heartbeats,
the same words whispered so close to my ear they sound like beautiful little secrets,
the rock I cling to when the waves crash violently all around me to keep from drowning, I wish you were
my home, my favourite pair of arms, my heart, my safe place, the one to soothe my mind.
I wish you were so many more things
than just far away and as impossible to touch
as white noise.
Under the Mikan -ZoRo-The unaccustomed feel of hair against his face drew Zoro out of his slumber to swipe at the strands tickling his nose. Mind still fuzzy from sleep, he peered blearily down at the still form sprawled across his chest, a head draped in locks the color of midnight tucked just under his chin.Under the Mikan -ZoRo-9 years ago in General Fiction More Like This
Oh yeah. Robin. He dropped his hand to stroke her head softly as memories of last night's activities brought a sated grin to his face. Remembered when he'd first seen the archaeologist beckoning him to the shelter of the mikan grove; the arm that sprouted from his shirt to tug mischievously in that direction. The brush of soft, pliant lips against his that quickly turned fiery moments after he'd stepped within the haven of the trees. Recalled the sounds she'd made when his calloused fingers traced lazy circles around her nipples. The coppery taste of blood as his bit an arm to stifle his own cries, hana hana hands touc
PhilosoraptorOne of the most intriguing nuances of the Universe is that, time and again, it manages to outdo itself in terms of sheer oddity. One of these examples dwells on the validus humus* Gaia, north on the lateral plane of the galactic core of G2427626, known as the Milky Way galaxy in some ares of the Universe.Philosoraptor4 years ago in Profiles More Like This
This creature, of primarily upright reptilian descent, is around the height of a larval valde vermis; it is omnivorous, with large claws and excellent vision, and can bring down a grown bupholant with little effort. It is perfectly adapted to its environment, and by every law of nature and evolution it should not have developed intelligence; of course, these laws do not allow for cosmic intervention.
Several centuries before the advent of homo sapien on Gaia, one of the the raptors was found calculating the orbit of Gaia's moon-suns. This event in itself was not so strange; indeed, any respectable intelligence could do so easily. No, what made this raptor such an aberration was that i
Souls and SparklesTo write something that is meaningful to someone else, you must first write something that is meaningful to yourself.Souls and Sparkles3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
There are a thousand rooms in each person's mind, and each mind is a maze because it has been tangled. The hallways are criss-crossing and clumping, like long hair in the wind. Society has made it so.
We all have impure thoughts. Things that would make us "bad", unequal, or imperfect. Thoughts that make us different in gloriously unusual ways. We are born into the world unashamed, but then we are taught the unspoken words. Words that are rules. Words like normal, like good and bad, ugly and pretty. We are taught that if we do not fit the rule of "good", we are bad. We are evil, we are tainted, and so we are unwanted.
So, each of us hides our failures; our shortcomings, even though they are exactly the opposite of such. They are a representation of the uniqueness of each human soul, but unique is "bad", and so we hide. And those impure thoughts are hidden in darke
ApparitionsI was nervous when I arrived. Had my information been right? Was she used to trans patients? Would she be supportive and helpful or weirded out? Would this be a waste of time or the freeing experience I hoped it would be?Apparitions4 years ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
I looked around the lobby. It was small and well furnished. A large coffee table occupied the center of the room, surrounded on two sides by a small sofa and an armchair, which for some reason made me think of my grandfather. On the opposite side of the room, there was a water cooler and several large unopened refill containers. On a table near the door was the item I was looking for.
"Matt 12:00, 6 pages," read a yellow sticky note affixed to some papers clipped onto a clipboard. Yellow seemed like a bad omen, sort of a boring choice of office supplies.
The name on the sticky didn't have the same pang of regret, didn't leave the bad taste in my mouth that it usually did. It felt more like a farewell to an old friend an
Suicide NoteThe article in the paper said that she killed herself by jumping off an eight-floor apartment block. He felt that something was off there. Not in the gesture itself, but in its details.Suicide Note4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Her mother told the journalists, crying, that she wasn't the sort of girl who would do such a thing. Her best friend said that she had her depressive episodes, but nobody could possibly have expected this. But he? He didn't find her taking her own life all that surprising. Still, something wasn't right. No suicide note, no sort of message to him. No strange actions, no frantic love-making or dispassionate 'my head hurts' statements. Everything had been normal prior to her death. It nagged at him.
When three days after her death he stepped out of the shower in the morning and prepared to shave, he was only mildly surprised to see that there was finger-writing on the steamed-up mirror.
'It wasn't me. I didn't kill her,' it said.
"I know," he replied out loud, then wiped the mirror cle
MaybeYour body has been usedMaybe3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
By all of those who are broken.
The ones who are trying to repair
Their own wounds with
No regards towards your own.
You are a hand for him to hold
While he thinks of her
And tries to forget the emptiness
And the fact that he is alone.
For a brief moment while
He is inside of you,
You feel as if you are the
Missing half of the whole,
And it is perfect.
He recites memorized lines
And you wonder who else
Has heard them before you,
But you tell yourself that
You're the first anyway.
Your body has been used
By all of those who are broken,
And you begin to wish that
You could be loved once,
And loved most.
Green fireflies.I want to sit on your porchGreen fireflies.3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
at the simple thought
of your swift arrival.
Smile, DarlingHey there.Smile, Darling2 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Yes, you over there.
Has anyone told you lately that you look great?
Yes, with your morning hair. Your “chopstick” limbs. Those things you call fat. Your skin with all the blemishes which make you shine brighter. Your eyes which shine like the stars.
I want to say that you look beautiful, and that you shouldn’t worry about what you look like.
What do you mean you’re a terrible person?
Oh, is it because of the intense jealousy for those who have things you don’t have?
Or maybe because you feel immensely insecure of your wonderful self? Or maybe because you take out that anger and sadness on something? Or is it because you’ve only been getting negative feedback from others? Is it because you can’t fulfill your own duties?
Here’s one thing I should tell you, darling.
Put down that blade.
Throw those pills down the sink.
Drop that bottle of liquor you’ve got there.
Let those tears fall.
DormantWinter is a blank slate,Dormant3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
but not like Rousseau's
sucking out warmth like poison
leaving only windburnt frost
tacked to the window pane
all we remember
is the numbness
skittish steps across the ice
snowflakes pasted to our faces
smoke rising from our lips
dragged across bleak clouds
winter has us captured
bound by fur and walls
drifting in our eggshelled silence
bone cold until we birth ourselves by warmth
emerge from our shells wet and heaving
uncurl our fingers one by one
joints crackling like fire at our backs
until spring comes
drip by tender drip
old wounds thaw
we are found raw,
graced again by feeling.
The Last SongDo you think we'll get a last song?The Last Song3 years ago in Flash Fiction & Vignettes More Like This
I'm not sure. This diary I'm writing in is full of holes. It's sopping like a wet sponge. It reeks, but what doesn't in the filth and the mess?
Storm's passing. Not like I've ever seen here. Even the explosive storms of my youth; running in the fields, the junkyards, the rust-ravaged train tracks of old wasn't quite like this.
Something's exploded against the skyline. Orange is reflecting off the glass; the spider-striped, near shattered glass I kicked two weeks ago while mowing the grass.
It might be the gas works. Or the chemical sheds. Weyrdstorms do this, you know. That's what the warnings said. Electricity and chaos and hellish atomic confusion mixed into an atmospheric slurry and let to rage. I ask the question because music's the one thing I'm yearning for right now. It settles me, helps me think. Always has, though keeping my sister's sniveling furthest from my head might be an ulterior motive.
Do I think I'm escaping this plac
64 Roommates Theme Challenge01. Underground64 Roommates Theme Challenge4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
21. Date Night
34. Movie Night
35. Valentine's Day
36. Midsummer Night
44. Barber Shop
58. Second Chance
Tinderbox HeartTinderbox Heart3 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
In the puddle-drummed madness
of the dawn,
we find ourselves
topple-winged and cresting
like young colts,
the trees closing their eyes
at our haste.
treble-footed and deft,
through a green that yawns -
the mist clinging,
sweet sod of daybreak,
and your thrum-breasted heart
warm as a tinderbox
left beating at my feet.
Html codes and Visual Poetry A lot of great writers on dA don't know how to use html codes, which is a real shame, because these codes can really be used to bring out a writer's words. This tutorial will go through several basic codes, good places to use them in your writing, along with spacing and other aspects of visual poetry & writing.Html codes and Visual Poetry4 years ago in Reviews & Guides More Like This
If you haven't noticed, when you open an "Add text" devation, there's a list of HTML codes at the bottom. Most of them look like this . A lot of these match up with the names used for them in Microsoft Word documents, so they should be easy to use. So, let's start off with the basics!
1. Italics <i>
</i>is simply, italics. Got it? Put the i inside the s. See, it's easy! To end any Html code, one puts a slash before the letter i, </i>. Now, for the Visual impact of italics.
Emphasis and Motion
Which means that a good place to use i
WolvesSick of the pack,The wolves,Wolves2 years ago in Songs & Lyrics More Like This
Running and seeking while staying together,
Singularity Is none existent to you,
Strength in numbers,weakness In singles.
Throw your morals at my face,
When you're the one who forgot them,
I never swore loyalty to you,
And you have never shown me such a thing,
And yet I'm meant to be,
When I left you didn't even notice,
If I did stay would you know?
You can scream betrayal from your tower,
You can tell a story of my deeds,
Words are words and actions are real,
Saying something doesn't make It so.
With my actions I only grow,
With your words you'll have nothing to show,
When they forget their love for you,
You'll realize It was only pity.