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Coffee or Tea?
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Autumn's Children
  Being what I am, I really do not need to breathe. After all, my heart does not beat. My blood does not flow, not in the usual way, at least. I imagine that my lungs hardly know what to do with oxygen anymore. I need the movement of air across my vocal chords to speak, but it has been years since I had anything like a social life so that, too, is a rare occurrence. No more than once or twice a year, I expect. Even still, sitting on this park bench, I am inhaling as much of the midnight air as I can contain. Once I let it out in a long exhale, I will breathe it all in again, a cycle I have been repeating for the past two and a half hours -
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A Midsummer Night's Storm
I rocked slowly back and forth on the porch chair. The concrete was cool beneath my bare toes, and although the wire mesh seat wasn't the most comfortable, there was no way I was going to miss an awesome storm like this. I had never realized that the porch was just the right size for squalling summer nights. It was hard to believe that I had never taken the time to appreciate it before. I could feel the faintest cool mist from the rain, but I wasn't getting uncomfortably wet. If the wind decided to pick up much, it would probably be a different story. Until then, I was determined to sit and rock and enjoy myself. No music. No phone. No inter
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Autumn's Children
  Being what I am, I really do not need to breathe. After all, my heart does not beat. My blood does not flow, not in the usual way, at least. I imagine that my lungs hardly know what to do with oxygen anymore. I need the movement of air across my vocal chords to speak, but it has been years since I had anything like a social life so that, too, is a rare occurrence. No more than once or twice a year, I expect. Even still, sitting on this park bench, I am inhaling as much of the midnight air as I can contain. Once I let it out in a long exhale, I will breathe it all in again, a cycle I have been repeating for the past two and a half hours -
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5
A
A Midsummer Night's Storm
I rocked slowly back and forth on the porch chair. The concrete was cool beneath my bare toes, and although the wire mesh seat wasn't the most comfortable, there was no way I was going to miss an awesome storm like this. I had never realized that the porch was just the right size for squalling summer nights. It was hard to believe that I had never taken the time to appreciate it before. I could feel the faintest cool mist from the rain, but I wasn't getting uncomfortably wet. If the wind decided to pick up much, it would probably be a different story. Until then, I was determined to sit and rock and enjoy myself. No music. No phone. No inter
6
3
Forever Clock
6
3
Gray Fullbuster
6
2
Shooby-Doo-Bop!
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Nero Jumps Sol
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Hook and Wolf - Full Color
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C
Clocktober #1 - The Novel of Vico N' Moro (Part 1)
Vico's notebook was no pushover. It wasn't submissive in the slightest, opening and closing itself whenever it felt like it. Sometimes, words appeared on its pages without anyone's intervention. This usually happened when Vico had distanced himself from writing for a long time. This didn't make him happy, but he had no right to complain. He was responsible for this, after all. Creating something didn't mean he had control over it. Thinking of this on his way home made for anxious steps. The notion robbed him of all peace. To his misfortune, a few blocks away, the cycle began anew. The notebook's cover opened on its own and the daily protest
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I find myself in the woods. It's autumn, the leaves are orange and brown, and the ground is covered with them. The trees are majestic and tall: maple, oak, and redwood. The light filters through them with a soft glow. It seems to be near dusk. The ground slopes gently upward, and as I look back I see that I am near the edge of the trees. No. The hill slopes down to a small path. At least, it seems to be a path. There is gravel or signs of travel, just a small flat surface before the ground slopes up again on the other side. There is no sound. Not the chirp of a bird, or the chatter of a squirrel, nor even the sound of the wind which is blowi
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A
Autumn's Children
  Being what I am, I really do not need to breathe. After all, my heart does not beat. My blood does not flow, not in the usual way, at least. I imagine that my lungs hardly know what to do with oxygen anymore. I need the movement of air across my vocal chords to speak, but it has been years since I had anything like a social life so that, too, is a rare occurrence. No more than once or twice a year, I expect. Even still, sitting on this park bench, I am inhaling as much of the midnight air as I can contain. Once I let it out in a long exhale, I will breathe it all in again, a cycle I have been repeating for the past two and a half hours -
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January 30, 1993
United States
Deviant for 6 years
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Comments117

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Clockchat's avatar
Happy birthday, awesome you! Stay tuned this day, I have the feeling there'll be stuff to look forward to! ;D
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JRWenzel's avatar
JRWenzel|Professional Digital Artist
:):iconfaven1:
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brietta-a-m-f's avatar
brietta-a-m-f|Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome!
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yuuike's avatar
yuuike|Student Digital Artist
Ahhh thank you very much for the watch bby <333:iconuhuhuhuplz:It means a lot ; w ;/
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brietta-a-m-f's avatar
brietta-a-m-f|Hobbyist General Artist
You are so very welcome! I can't wait to see your stuff popping up in my inbox! I love your amazing work!
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pro-mole's avatar
pro-mole|Hobbyist General Artist
In yet another of my usual bouts of forgetfulness, I've been here on Friday and completely forgot to wish you a happy birthday, miss Brietta.

But at least the cake is still fresh. :D

:iconcaekplz:

Because it's not real, of course. :|
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brietta-a-m-f's avatar
brietta-a-m-f|Hobbyist General Artist
The cake is a lie. O.o

(I hope you've played Portal. If not, my reference is moot... -_- )

But fear not! As late as your birthday wishes may be, my thanks are even later! :dummy:
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