Stock and Resources Updates Feb 2013Heading Into 2013
We are well on our way towards the warmer part of the year for those of us who live in the Northern Hemisphere, and whilst we shake off our winter blues and snow boots, our Southern Stockers have been wowing us with new beautiful stock and resources (whilst sweltering in the heat!)
The gallery cleanup is still going on, but with a reminder to be patient with us, we know its not easy but we have a very VERY big gallery and just a few people (mostly just Erin and myself) tackling the issue, but its not been forgotten or ignored. Erin and I are also very busy with home life as well
If you feel we've missed out on a sub category (sadly this is very likely right now as we concentrate our efforts on the most used/submitted to areas) please feel free to note us and point us in the right direction!
New Submission Page and Updated Gallery Descriptions
The new submission pa
Featured Deviants January 2013This is the collection of DLDs given to amazing literature in the fields of poetry and prose for the Month of January 2013, selected by our wonderful group of literature admins and staff. Individuals are only allowed to be selected once every 30 days, so congratulations to everyone that was selected during January 2013.Featured Deviants January 20131 year ago in Scraps More Like This
The PhilosopherAn old, world-weary man, hunched over a writing desk. A sigh that can brush universes to the side escaping his lips in a desperate last bid from the insanity of the knowledge it acquired. A grey beard, peppered with the last remnants of colour soon fading from it, clinging to his face.The Philosopher5 years ago in Scraps More Like This
It is impossible to ascertain whether he is dressed formally or not. What looks like it used to be a tuxedo, or perhaps just a suit, is unbuttoned and taken apart haphazardly. Sleeves crowd at his elbows, leaving ink-smudged arms otherwise bare, braving the not-so-biting cold.
His heartbeat is strong against his temple, each surge of blood swelling it momentarily as though he has had another thought, another contradiction. Although, he knows they come far more swiftly than a lagging heartbeat. With each thump, another thousand, million, billion notions race past, the inner tick simply telling him that he is alive.
Dark eyes, perhaps brown or amber, are faded with the rest of his features, the stars too f