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23 Watchers958 Page Views11 Deviations
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Small, Blue, and At a Crossroads
I. The frog—small, green, and as vibrant as the freshly mown lawn—hopped into the puddle at my feet. It was drawn to the stagnant smell of hose water, which would feel cooler if it came from a water balloon and splashed my skin after a brief, yet long-awaited sting. III. The frog—small, brown, and easily mistaken for a dead leaf—sat motionless at my feet. It was drawn to my tears, which would create the most beautiful ripples if they fell on the surface of a pond and not the immovable concrete below me. II. The frog legs—small, golden, and fried to perfection—lay on my plate. They were ordered by a stranger wearing a suit and hiding a velvet box and served with a glass of wine, which would taste sweeter if shared with someone who knew the person sitting across from him. IV. I must get back up.
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Florida Man Strikes Again!
The Sunshine State Scoop Eric A. Millennial October 7, 2017 3:46 p.m. Tensions were high in Tampa this afternoon as dozens gathered at a local McDonald's restaurant witnessed an assault. Florida Man arrived on the scene and within minutes, chaos erupted as he pelted a young woman with sweet and sour condiment packets. But why sweet and sour packets? According to Jane Simmons, Florida Man's now ex-girlfriend and latest victim, it was because they had run out of szechuan sauce. "He wanted to get some for the promotion they were doing because of that weird cartoon he watches. They didn't have enough to go around, and he--he was so angry." Jason Pampas, Yelp reviewer, self-described condiment connoisseur, and Rick and Morty fan, contacted The Sunshine State Scoop and provided another interesting take on this afternoon's events. "Florida Man and [Simmons] were arguing when they arrived on the scene. Florida Man said the [woman] was taking too long to get ready. They were going to
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Oviparity
I. Four Months Incubation Nenan stared at the sterile, white incubator while the human scientist, Tam, drew a blood sample from her right arm. There were three to begin with after her mate fertilized them, and two were inviable. Inside that incubator was her final chance of seeing one of these offspring survive to neonate. Tam gently patted her arm as she withdrew the needle. "I know it's not the same, but I had trouble, too. Three miscarriages--that's what we call it when a human fetus dies before it can be born--and then finally, my little Juniper made it. He's six years old and healthy. I believe we can give your baby a chance, too." "It's not the same," Nenan said bitterly, "but thank you for your sympathy." How could any of these humans understand? Losing three little ones would be awful--especially for a species that can usually only have one at a time--but what was that compared to losing dozens before they were born? And it wasn't like Tam's experience was typical of
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Leave Me My Name
I write my last name like a sigh of relief, almost prayer-like, as if it could change again without any forewarning. The way its letters flow from my pen is unlike before; it's less fluid, and my handwriting is a jumble of cursive and print with some letters clinging to others while others stand alone, statuesque in their autonomy, just as I wished to be. It's like I've forgotten how to spell it, even though it's been mine for most of my life, interrupted by that other name in which I once found peace because people didn't ask me every goddamn day if I had any connection to the country my family was named after (it's a long story, and I rea
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Kilt Guy
My favorite part of DragonCon this year was having an existential crisis over seeing my ex at a Steven Universe sing-along event.  He looks like a stereotypical hipster geek, so I feel a slight adrenaline boost every time I see someone with a similar likeness.  If I were to describe him to a sketch artist, I’d say “y’know, he looks like most male geeks who are around thirty who you see at DragonCon.  He’s on the chubby side, has a hipster haircut and a scraggly beard that looks like it belongs on the crotch of an 80s porn star, and wears a kilt.”  Except he wears it all the time, not just to conventions, because
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Ballad of a True Blue Texan (slinky)
She never met a blue-eyed boy and walked away without falling in love, but they always left her blue; bluebirds announced it time and time again, singing the blues as she wept, broken-hearted. One day a boy from her hometown, who wore 501 blues and tended his family's blue corn fields, proposed to her by a blue lagoon, and she thought he was the once-in-a-blue-moon love she dreamed of. He gave her a sapphire of a striking blue hue that matched the depth of his ocean blue eyes, and at their wedding, they danced to bluegrass beneath the stars in a field of bluebonnets. He made love to his moonshine and shouted blue words and she stayed by hi
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Inner Critic
Hi!  My name is Kaelyn.  My pronouns are they, them, and their. (Sigh.)  Why is that so difficult to spit out every time?  Most people don't understand what it means to be nonbinary.  "Woman" isn't exactly inaccurate, but it feels so limiting, like there's more to me and that word can never adequately describe who I am.  "Man" isn't right, either.  I'm just me. People have always expected me to break my bones just to fit into a box that’s the wrong size and shape.  It's suffocating in there, and all I can hear are the echoing, reverberating voices that keep telling me that it's unladylike to sit with my legs apart, and girls aren't sup
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Small, Blue, and At a Crossroads
I. The frog—small, green, and as vibrant as the freshly mown lawn—hopped into the puddle at my feet. It was drawn to the stagnant smell of hose water, which would feel cooler if it came from a water balloon and splashed my skin after a brief, yet long-awaited sting. III. The frog—small, brown, and easily mistaken for a dead leaf—sat motionless at my feet. It was drawn to my tears, which would create the most beautiful ripples if they fell on the surface of a pond and not the immovable concrete below me. II. The frog legs—small, golden, and fried to perfection—lay on my plate. They were ordered by a stranger wearing a suit and hiding a velvet box and served with a glass of wine, which would taste sweeter if shared with someone who knew the person sitting across from him. IV. I must get back up.
5
4
F
Florida Man Strikes Again!
The Sunshine State Scoop Eric A. Millennial October 7, 2017 3:46 p.m. Tensions were high in Tampa this afternoon as dozens gathered at a local McDonald's restaurant witnessed an assault. Florida Man arrived on the scene and within minutes, chaos erupted as he pelted a young woman with sweet and sour condiment packets. But why sweet and sour packets? According to Jane Simmons, Florida Man's now ex-girlfriend and latest victim, it was because they had run out of szechuan sauce. "He wanted to get some for the promotion they were doing because of that weird cartoon he watches. They didn't have enough to go around, and he--he was so angry." Jason Pampas, Yelp reviewer, self-described condiment connoisseur, and Rick and Morty fan, contacted The Sunshine State Scoop and provided another interesting take on this afternoon's events. "Florida Man and [Simmons] were arguing when they arrived on the scene. Florida Man said the [woman] was taking too long to get ready. They were going to
2
2
O
Oviparity
I. Four Months Incubation Nenan stared at the sterile, white incubator while the human scientist, Tam, drew a blood sample from her right arm. There were three to begin with after her mate fertilized them, and two were inviable. Inside that incubator was her final chance of seeing one of these offspring survive to neonate. Tam gently patted her arm as she withdrew the needle. "I know it's not the same, but I had trouble, too. Three miscarriages--that's what we call it when a human fetus dies before it can be born--and then finally, my little Juniper made it. He's six years old and healthy. I believe we can give your baby a chance, too." "It's not the same," Nenan said bitterly, "but thank you for your sympathy." How could any of these humans understand? Losing three little ones would be awful--especially for a species that can usually only have one at a time--but what was that compared to losing dozens before they were born? And it wasn't like Tam's experience was typical of
7
24
L
Leave Me My Name
I write my last name like a sigh of relief, almost prayer-like, as if it could change again without any forewarning. The way its letters flow from my pen is unlike before; it's less fluid, and my handwriting is a jumble of cursive and print with some letters clinging to others while others stand alone, statuesque in their autonomy, just as I wished to be. It's like I've forgotten how to spell it, even though it's been mine for most of my life, interrupted by that other name in which I once found peace because people didn't ask me every goddamn day if I had any connection to the country my family was named after (it's a long story, and I rea
42
40
K
Kilt Guy
My favorite part of DragonCon this year was having an existential crisis over seeing my ex at a Steven Universe sing-along event.  He looks like a stereotypical hipster geek, so I feel a slight adrenaline boost every time I see someone with a similar likeness.  If I were to describe him to a sketch artist, I’d say “y’know, he looks like most male geeks who are around thirty who you see at DragonCon.  He’s on the chubby side, has a hipster haircut and a scraggly beard that looks like it belongs on the crotch of an 80s porn star, and wears a kilt.”  Except he wears it all the time, not just to conventions, because
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B
Ballad of a True Blue Texan (slinky)
She never met a blue-eyed boy and walked away without falling in love, but they always left her blue; bluebirds announced it time and time again, singing the blues as she wept, broken-hearted. One day a boy from her hometown, who wore 501 blues and tended his family's blue corn fields, proposed to her by a blue lagoon, and she thought he was the once-in-a-blue-moon love she dreamed of. He gave her a sapphire of a striking blue hue that matched the depth of his ocean blue eyes, and at their wedding, they danced to bluegrass beneath the stars in a field of bluebonnets. He made love to his moonshine and shouted blue words and she stayed by hi
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A lesson in letting go
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FFM Day 2 - PUBLIC SAFETY
A PUBLIC SAFETY BULLETIN: There is nothing to be afraid of. Citizens are advised to stay at home. If unable to stay home, stay away from public areas. Lock all windows, every door, and shut off electronic devices. Keep your fire extinguisher within reach. Is there a threat to public security? No. There is nothing to be afraid of. We are watching you. Do not adjust your thermostat. It will not work. Heat is to be expected. Failure is an option. You want to speak off the record. You want to be forgotten, to be invisible, to drink alone, and always win honorable mentions. Failure is the safest way to avoid detection. If you fail, you will be
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Winter Forest Sketch Study
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Slinkyfest 2018!
By now, you all who watch me will be aware of the new poetry form created by edzull (https://www.deviantart.com/edzull) this year, called 'the slinky'.  Some of you have even written one! :bulletblue: :bulletorange: :bulletgreen:  Well here's some incentive to do it (or do it again!) Slinkyfest 2018 is the first annual Slinky competition, brought to you by CommunityLit (https://www.deviantart.com/communitylit), the fantastic new group ... for Lit groups (and writers in general, of course). :bulletblue: :bulletorange: :bulletgreen:  So -- what's a slinky, Sal? For those unaware, a slinky is a poem of 16 lines, any line length, any meter, rhymed or un-rhymed-- with a single word (must be a noun, verb or adj
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Deeper Than You See
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Memories
Precious seconds tick off the clock with us down by two. The net hangs in the air like a carrot in front of a donkey, begging me to take a shot. I have the ball, and all the chances to become a hero. All I have to do is drive to the basket, split the three defenders on me, and hope one of them doesn’t do something nasty like grab my ponytail. “Esther, shoot!” The crowd roars. It’s the simple decision with only two seconds left and the ball in my hands. Yet against three defenders? No, this isn’t about me. This is about the team. “Sofia!” I pass the ball left to the wide open forward. Any other girl
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Fading Autumn II.
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Dragon noir
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Oct 2
United States
Deviant for 11 months
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Super Llama: Llamas are awesome! (33)
Whoooa, there.
Hey, dA, you're looking sharp and alien and wonderful and bizarre. I miss the nostalgic green, but I'm also digging the Wordpress-esque functionality of this journal writing thingy and the fact that the look of the website in general is SO MY AESTHETIC. I have emerged from my eternal slumber, aka <i>being an utterly insane student who decided to take 16 hours in the fall and 18 in the spring</i>. I'm here primarily because it's almost Flash Fiction Month, and I had a couple ideas pop into my head recently that I started sketching out and realized would be perfect for that--so I'm going to be posting pretty regularly next month, hopefully on the daily. Other than that, I'm getting ready to apply to graduate programs this fall (yikes), working on creating a YouTube channel with my amazing fiancee (holy wow), and still plugging away at a couple of research projects I was working on (aaaaaah). I went to Peru for three weeks and it was life-changing... so much so that it merits its own post
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~ Atlanta Pride | Science Rant ~
Wow, so, a few days after I posted my last journal entry, I was awarded a Daily Deviation for one of my poems--I so didn't expect that level of recognition any time soon since this account is so new, but reading the comments has been super encouraging, both as a writer and as someone who is Going Through A Thing.  I even got a couple new watchers out of it, so if that's you, welcome!  Tell me about yourself--I like to get to know folks who read my stuff. Also, I think I've figured out how I'm going to do titles.  If it's written like ~Title~ with tildes on either side, it's some kind of blog post, essentially.  I won't use the tildes if the
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~ October ~
October arrived this morning and I felt an immense sense of relief.  It already feels a little cooler outside (at least in the shade).  Tomorrow is my birthday.  My girlfriend's birthday is in three weeks.  It's Halloween season.  The sun is setting a bit earlier and feels less oppressive when it looms overhead. On Saturday, I had my get-friends-together-and-eat-drink-and-be-merry get-together for my birthday.  We went to my favorite Mexican restaurant (where they have awesome traditional style tacos and the BEST queso dip and pretty good margaritas).  I got to see a couple friends I hadn't seen in a hot minute.  Everyone present was queer,
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Comments7

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hopeburnsblue's avatar
hopeburnsblue|Professional Writer
Hi, Kaelyn! :wave: Sending a belated thank you for following my page. :iconrainbow1plz: Hope y'all are doing well!
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Mxtress's avatar

Hey Mel! Always happy to support your work. School ate me and I wasn't on dA for a while, but I'm trying to work on some stuff this summer.

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hopeburnsblue's avatar
hopeburnsblue|Professional Writer
Looking forward to hopefully seeing more writing from you this summer. :) I need to be more active myself.
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xlntwtch's avatar
Yay, another day, another fave by you! :iconredsparklesplz:
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Mxtress's avatar
What can I say, I'm digging your slinkies!  :love:
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xlntwtch's avatar
Thanks much for the fave on "How to Be Me (a slinky)" and for the watch!
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Mxtress's avatar
Sure thing!  I enjoyed your poem and am looking forward to reading more of your work.

Edit:  Eep, thanks for watching back!
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