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Literature
Don't Trouble the Water
Dew dripped from the ferns hanging low over the dark water.
The mist was lifting and fading as the late morning sun broke through the clouds and fell across the shoulders of three young men standing on the bridge.
Ronan, bent and picked up a handful of pebbles and began pitching them into the river.
Teddy leaned his butt against the railing as Mikhail heaved a sigh and slumped his elbows and forearms on the edge.
"I'm telling you, Mik. Just ask her out. It's obvious you want to."
"I don't know, Teddy." Mikhail Kovacz's Russian accent was still very noticeable, but his English had improved tenfold since he'd moved to Meriwether, Oregon six years earlier.
"Well I know. And I'll tell you this, even though I promised her I wouldn't. She wants you to. She told me so."
Mikhail scoffed. "Yeah, I'm so sure." Mikhail pitched his voice into a mocking falsetto. "Oh, Teddy, I want him to take me out. Please don't tell him I said so...I'll be so embarrassed."
"Yeah, she said it just like that - exc
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Literature
Common Office Problems
Common issues employees face:
Interpersonal conflict
Communication problems
Gossip
Bullying
Harassment
Discrimination
Low motivation
Low job satisfaction
Performance issues
How to handle conflict:
Talk with the other person
Listen carefully
Focus on behavior and events, not on personalities
Identify points of agreement and disagreement
Prioritize the areas of conflict
Develop a plan to work through each conflict
Follow through on the plan
Build upon successes
Top 10 problems (LinkedIn)
Communication or lack thereof
Staying engaged and motivated
Project management and organization
Staff attitudes and hierarchy/bureaucracy
Dealing with change
Countering negativity and flagging morale
Ability to be creative
Difficult clients
Problem solving
Developing new skills
How to deal with difficult employees (Forbes)
Listen
Give clear feedback
Prudent documentation
Be consistent
Set consequences
Work through established processes
Don't talk trash, Act
Be a
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Literature
Card Declined
Jessica swiped the card again.
Card declined.
She tried rubbing it on her jeans - she'd heard somewhere that the static helps.
Still declined.
"Oh come on already," the middle aged woman behind her snapped. "I have ice cream melting in my cart."
"I'm sorry," Jessica said more to the cashier than the grumpy lady. "I swear, I just made a payment yesterday. They said it would be processed as of midnight."
"Here, let me try," the cashier said politely.
Jessica handed her the card.
The cashier tried typing in the numbers. "Sometimes the magnetic strip on these just goes bad."
Card declined.
The lady behind Jessica huffed and began backing her cart out of the aisle. She bumped into another guy who was trying to enter.
Instead of apologizing or saying "excuse me" she just growled "Don't bother, buddy. Big waste of my time." She stormed off to find another open register.
Jessica wasn't sorry to see her go.
She apologized to the cashier again and glanced at the guy who just been run into.
"I'm
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Literature
Life Sentence
The red dice tumbled and bounced down the green felt and rebounded off the bumper. I held my breath. My head swam. My heart pounded.
The dice wobbled, spun, and settled. Two fours, a hard eight, again.
Cheers exploded from the other players around me. They all had money riding on my throw and it just payed off. Big time!
A few hundred for an old chain smoker to my far right. An even two thousand for a too-tanned gin swiller to my left.
For me, ten thousand dollars. I couldn't believe it.
I had already won five thousand on a wild throw. Then for some reason, something told me to let it stand and do it again. Go for double.
For a fleeting moment I had the lunatic thought "Someone up there must like me. God wants me to win this money."
Yeah, sure. God hangs out in a lot of casinos with a bunch of sweaty drunks and ne'er do wells.
In hindsight, I see that someone wanted me to win...only to lose...and it wasn't the deity I was thinking of.  
I drew a shuddering breath, licked my lips,
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Literature
Nova Sapiens a.k.a. Novae
Nova Sapiens - bright, discerning ones. Aka "Novae"
They are highly advanced beings of consciousness. They appeared suddenly from the heavens in the mid 21st Century - or rather they appeared AGAIN to humanity.
Throughout human history they have been perceived as angels.
Primitive cultures worshipped these Star People as deities.
They have made several visits to Earth over many millenia, watching for a brief time before deciding that the world was not yet ready for them.
Most of the time, they were met with fear and panic. They would try to use their telepathic abilities to soothe the humans, but our primitive brains couldn't handle the sudden flood of information, and many were unintentionally driven mad.
This revelation led men to think they had seen the mind of God(s).
When these "prophets" would then proclaim themselves messengers of the Enlightened Ones, division, war, and subjugation soon followed.
This repetetive aftermath always led the Novae to retreat from the world and try a
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Just Chillin by Realmwright Just Chillin :iconrealmwright:Realmwright 1 0
Literature
Grand Tournament of Summer's Dawn
Reason: held annually, beginning on the first of June (or the sixth month, assuming it's not called 'June').
Length: 10 days
Day 1 - a grand parade and ball for all of the nobles and competitors to size up one another.
Day 2 - is marked by the baking of sweet spice cakes - Scented Day.
Day 3 - a grand feast of many meats - Feast of Beasts.
Day 4-7 - elimination tournaments: joust, melee, archery, and unarmed combat. Then all remaining participants rest and recover until the final day.
Day 5 - a storytelling and music competition.
Day 8 - a circus of acrobats, jugglers, and trained animals. There is also a great chariot race and other horse races and rodeo-like events.
Day 9 - magical displays, finalists from the storytelling and music competitions, and a large display of fireworks at midnight.
Day 10 - the last Grand Battle/Battle Royal.
Awards: first place (ivory), second place (gold), and three honorable mentions (jewels).
Top Prizes:
Contest-related: hors
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Literature
Cherry Blossoms in a Field
Goodbye my last friend
It was snowing when we set out
Many boots marched many miles
Mud and cold roads
Leagues beneath our heels
Blood on the snow
Like fallen cherry blossoms in a field
Spring has come
Life begins again
Much new hope for some
But none for us
I do not hope
I dare not hope
So many dead
Friends and foes alike
We are the last of us
Just you and I
And now we part forever
The wind carries us away
We will never be here again
Many tears will flow and fall
Like blood on the snow
Like blossoms in a field
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Literature
Marine Corps Capt Hort Briggs
STR 9
DEX 9
END 8
INT 11
EDC 4
SOC 8
(Retired)Marine Corps Capt: Horatio "Hort" Briggs
Age 42
Pension: 40k per year - wounded veteran officer bonus. It was reduced by half, considering he wasn't a commissioned officer when he sustained his injury.
He didn't make Lieutenant until his 8th year in the Corps, it wasn't until his 6th term (or quarter century in the Corps) that he earned Captain.
Retired with the Silver Exemplary Officer's Cross, an etched Marines' Cutlass, and a Silver Sister (standard issue sidearm) etched with the SEOC.
Proficient in hand to hand, rifle, sidearm, and small and large blade close quarter combat, Capt "Hort" Briggs is a force to be recon-ed with.
His aptitude extends well beyond ground combat, with years of experience in zero-G, helo, and hovercraft operation.
The Marines under his stalwart command all agree that there is no finer officer to have beside you or above you when shit gets ugly. He can out-shoot, out-box, and out-fly any punk jar-head under his g
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Literature
Goodwind Gale Inn and Tavern
Name: Goodwind Gale Inn - Common Inn & Tavern
The sign is a painted blue plank showing a white ship with billowing sails
Menu:
Fried whitefish with asparagus and soft cheese (8 silvers)
Steamed mussels and potatoes (5 silvers)
Oysters and crab stuffed mushrooms (5 silvers)
Eel soup in a bread bowl with baked apples (4 silvers)
Cod stuffed peppers and pickled beets (4 silvers)
Steamed trout and spinach wraps (3 silvers)
Vegetable soup with fishbone broth (2 silvers)
A tall, three storey building that seems to both hunker against and lean into the wind, the Goodwind Gale overlooks the harbor and docks and guarantees some of the freshest fare available. With seating for nearly one hundred, a massive kitchen and a hospitable staff can easily serve a vessel's entire crew or a few dozen travellers. Whether he rides the waves or strides along the cobblestone streets, a man is sure to be hungry and craving steaming sustenance.
The second and third floors have lodgings for over fi
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Literature
Sea Dragon Flagon
Sea Dragon Flagon - Common Inn & Tavern
The sign is hammered pewter decorated with the stencil of a sea serpent coiled around a tall pitcher
Menu:
Boiled barley and oats, mug of brown (15 coppers)
Steamed whitefish and vegetables (25 coppers)
Seared seal steaks and stewed fruits (40 coppers)
Roasted mutton or beef with boiled vegetable medley and sweet pear cider (55 coppers)
Red wine selection is seasonal and limited
A small and simple selection of white wine is common
Sweet mead and cider are the most common drinks on the menu
Accommodations:
The common room features a long bar against the back wall, just in front of the clean kitchens.
A dozen private tables are evenly spaced to assure casual comfort.
A closed, formal dining room with banquet table and seating for up to twenty is reserved for officers, captains galas, or visiting dignitaries.
Upstairs, twenty private rooms offer comfort and quiet. Fourteen shared "crew" rooms offer easy access to the communal co
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Literature
The Dockers' Drink
Dockers' Drink - Poor Tavern
A.k.a. The Anchor 'n Tankard
The shingle is gray, splintered driftwood bound together with old rope and painted with a crude anchor and tankard
Menu:
"Slug and Mug Special" boiled oats with what appears to be snails or sea slugs added for protein, plus a tankard of whichever ale is about to go sour (2 coppers)
Stewed cod and clams (3 coppers)
Salted fish and sharp cheese (3 coppers)
Boiled crab and barley biscuit (4 coppers)
Roasted goat and pickles (4 coppers)
The brown ale is sour
The cheap wine is watered down
The cider is strong
This is many sailors' first stop when they make port.
The food is horrible, the drinks are cheap, and the women are as dangerous as the sea in a gale.
The only accommodations to be had are to be shared - with a wench.
The girls "own" their own beds and need not spend the entire evening with a sailor if they don't fancy to. But the house rules are that the ladies are there for entertainment first and company
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Literature
The Pen is Mightier (Part 1)
I came to an unremarkable door to a non-descript pub. I opened it and descended a few stairs. I noticed a placard.
"What the hell is an Unseelie Accord," I muttered to myself. "Neutral ground? Awfully Swiss."
The first thing I noticed was how barren the place was. Not a soul in sight, beyond the bald bartender and a lanky fellow - I'm guessing the latter was Dresden. I suppose any grown man who thinks he's a modern wizard - or at least poses as one - would of course dress in a black leather coat. I thought it made him look too much like Wyatt Earp from that entirely too quotable western movie. But whatever, this meeting shouldn't cost me more than a couple beers.
I also noticed the haphazardness of the place. One, two, three...hmm, thirteen posts and thirteen tables, apparently arranged by a blind interior decorator. They were all scattered and not even close to what you might call "orderly." I think calling it "asymmetrical" would be an insult to asymmetry.
Whatever. I just wanted to
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Bridge plans ABCD by Realmwright Bridge plans ABCD :iconrealmwright:Realmwright 0 0 TNS Ardent bridge plan by Realmwright TNS Ardent bridge plan :iconrealmwright:Realmwright 2 0
Literature
Not on a Train, Not in the Rain
Time slowed to bare shreds of seconds. I wasn't me anymore. I was someone else watching my life from behind my eyes. Each raindrop fell at forty thousand frames per second, leaving faint, silver trails behind them. The neon lights did their usual, maddening flicker dance, but now they were like a slow strobe with a lifetime between pulses of light.
She was surrounded in a blur of rain misting and splattering from her jacket. The water cascading over the black leather threw reflections in every shade of the rainbow, but it also appeared as though the wet shell was trying to drink in the colors.
She turned her head towards me. The ink of the tattoo on her neck twisted and contorted. Wet tendrils of her hair spun in slow arcs. Her intense blue eyes locked with mine. Her arm uncoiled like a snake striking in slow motion.
I could hear people yelling. My radio's earpiece made it all a muddle of barking and squawking. Instead of sounding like it was screaming in my ear, it was more like someo
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Literature
I Am the Unseen Movement in the Night
I am the unseen movement in the night;
Disturbing, displacing and rustling all
In my path. Unbidden, I might enter,
Hidden, through a window left ajar, or
Through the door that clatters in a damp draught.
I may catch you through a chink or crack, crease
Of fabric on the bed sheet as I move
Through unsealed ways of mice and crawling things.
I cannot be seen. Even in daylight,
I am there, but seem not to be present.
To be, or not to be, the Bard did write;
Such is it for the watcher in the night.
Perhaps I have not spoken true; my form,
Unseen being being noted by you,
Is announced by the displacement of things
Corporeal. I am sometimes subtle:
A leaf that rocks, a branch that sways, a sigh.
Sometimes sure: Trees that bend and crash of surf;
A kite from far away thrown upon turf.
Nobody sees me, but they know I'm there,
And I am become the separate parts
Of my sum; no more, no less, no other.
I am what others do choose to perceive,
And what they think they see they may believe.
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145 deviations
Dew dripped from the ferns hanging low over the dark water.
The mist was lifting and fading as the late morning sun broke through the clouds and fell across the shoulders of three young men standing on the bridge.
Ronan, bent and picked up a handful of pebbles and began pitching them into the river.
Teddy leaned his butt against the railing as Mikhail heaved a sigh and slumped his elbows and forearms on the edge.
"I'm telling you, Mik. Just ask her out. It's obvious you want to."
"I don't know, Teddy." Mikhail Kovacz's Russian accent was still very noticeable, but his English had improved tenfold since he'd moved to Meriwether, Oregon six years earlier.
"Well I know. And I'll tell you this, even though I promised her I wouldn't. She wants you to. She told me so."
Mikhail scoffed. "Yeah, I'm so sure." Mikhail pitched his voice into a mocking falsetto. "Oh, Teddy, I want him to take me out. Please don't tell him I said so...I'll be so embarrassed."
"Yeah, she said it just like that - except not in those words and not with a mouthful of Moscow," Ronan quipped.
"I've got you 'mouthful of Moscow' right here." Mikhail cupped the crotch of his jeans.
"Vhateva vloats your boat, Ruskie." Ronan punched Mik in the arm, grinning.
Mik slugged him back.
"Your mother floats my boat."
"So why not?" Teddy pressed on. "If Becky wants you to ask her, and we all know you want to, then give us a good reason why you wouldn't."
"Because she's..." Mik struggled to find the word. "She just, better, more than me, more than I could ever hope for."
"What does that even mean?"
"She's perfect."
"No she's not. You just think so because you're so blinded by love."
"Shut up, Ro. I am not."
"Tell him she's not." Ronan flicked a rock at Teddy. "You've lived next to her since you were four. She's one of your best friends, at least she was until you met us."
"Actually, Mik's right," Teddy agreed.
"What the hell, man?! How could you say she's better than him?" Ronan looked genuinely shocked, and more than a little angry on behalf of his comrade.
"Not better than him. Better than both of you idiots. At least she knows what she wants and she's not afraid to say so."
Mikhail just scowled down at his reflection.
"She's better. She deserves more than me."
"Why don't you let her decide?" Teddy put a hand on his friend's shoulder.  "Just trust me on this one."
Ronan hated uncomfortable silences. They made him, well, uncomfortable.
Before they knew what he was doing, Ronan was standing on the rail of the bridge, the toes of his Chuck Taylors protruding out over the edge.
"Ro! Careful man, that water isn't deep enough."
"Sure it is. I'll show you. Hand me that hunk of concrete." He pointed to a piece of the railing that had broken off.
Teddy carefully handed it up to him.
Ronan bounced it in his hand a few times. "It's about two, maybe two and half pounds. And see how bright it is?" He rubbed his hand over it and tilted it into the sun behind him. "It will contrast with the water, we'll see it as it sinks, but I bet we lose sight of it before it reaches the bottom. Ready?"
Ronan stretched out his arm, holding the concrete palm down. He paused and glanced to his friends. "Keep your eyes on it." Then he let go.
The chunk plummeted the twenty odd feet to the surface below and make a deep 'ploonk' noise as the water closed around it.
They all squinted down at it, but soon lost it in the murky current.
"See? I told you,' Ronan said triumphantly. "That water must be at least eight or nine feet deep. Maybe more than ten. This river's been running down these hills since long before Lewis and Clark crossed it. With all the silt it carries, I been it's got a deep, squishy bottom...just like your mom's."
"Congratulations. You were right. Now get down before you fall down," Teddy chided.
"Or what? You gonna make me?" Ronan lifted one foot and held it out over the edge. "Shall I walk the plank, me mateys?"
"Ro, stop it! Seriously, you're gonna fall."
"Whoa...wh-whoa!" Ronan flailed his arms, hamming it up.
"You're such a moron, Ro. You'll deserve it if you fall and break your leg," Mikhail told him flatly.
"Say you're going to ask out Becky, or I'm jumping. I'll do it. I'll take the plunge if you don't."
"This is stupid. You're going to hurt yourself and for what? Because I won't ask out some dumb girl?"
"Dumb? You couldn't get over how perfect she was a minute ago."
"Fine, fine. She's not perfect. And I'll ask her. Now get down!"
Ronan grinned again. "Swear it, man. And mean it."
Mikhail was just opening his mouth to say 'I swear' as Ronan put his foot down. But because he was looking down, waiting for his friend's oath, Ronan's sneaker just grazed the lip of the rail and suddenly there was nothing beneath it.
"Shit, guys!" But before the words were out of his mouth he was in open air.
"Ro!"
Mikhail lunged and barely caught the cuff of Ronan's thermal undershirt.  The downward momentum yanked Mikhail's feet of the ground and the rail slamming into his gut forced the air from his lungs.
"Mik!"
Teddy caught the waist of Mikhail's jeans before both of his friends went over the railing.
"Guys, help me!" Ronan kicked and dangled. The cuff of his shirt was starting to tear.
"Hold still! You'll make it worse," Teddy hollered. "Grab Mik with your other hand."
Ronan did as he was told and clung on as tight as he could. He looked down between his feet at his terrified reflection. Now he wasn't so sure about the depth of the water. Stretched to full length, dangling from Mikhail's grip, Ronan's sneakers were less than ten feet from the surface.
Teddy hauled on Mikhail's beltline and Mikhail pulled Ronan to where he could grip the railing. As they dragged him over the side, Ronan whined "Aw man, you tore my shirt."
"I should have just dropped you, you frigging idiot!" Mikhail shot back.
"I'd have been fine," Ronan tried to bluff.
"Yeah, sure. I bet you twenty bucks that water isn't as deep as you think. And even if it is, I bet you another twenty you wouldn't jump again, not intentionally. Moron."
"You're on!" Ronan stuck out a grubby hand.
"You're seriously going to take that bet," Teddy asked aghast.
"Heck yeah. For forty bucks, I'd let you throw me from this bridge."
"You really are an idiot." Mikhail shook Ronan's hand.
Before Ronan let go he reminded his friend "You still owe me, Mik. You said you'd ask her out."
"That doesn't count! I agreed so you wouldn't jump. You didn't jump, you fell, and I caught you. So your point is pointless. If anything you owe us. We saved you."
"Fair enough," Ronan pushed himself to his feet and wiped his hands on his pants "I do owe you. I owe you so big, I'll ask Becky for you. Save you the humiliation. One fair turn deserves another."
"Don't you dare!" Mikhail balled up his fist.
"Obviously I'm quite daring." Ronan just grinned.

To be continued...
Don't Trouble the Water
The oh so amazing Omario2d requested a story to go with this picture, and that's kind of what I do. So here it is.
Man I love cruising galleries and seeing art that makes the words flow onto the page!
From left to right: Ronan "Ro" O'Neal, Mikhail "Mik" Kovacz, Theodore "Teddy" Albert of (fictional) Meriwether, OR in the Pacific Northwest.
Hope you enjoy :)
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Pride

I AM PROUD

Made with pride by the DeviantArt community BROWSE ALL ART

  1. How long have you been on DeviantArt? I've had an account for a couple of years, but that was after probably something near a year of just lurking. Eventually I just had to scratch the itch and start building a Favorites collection.

  2. What does your username mean? I'm a hobbyist worldbuilder. It dawned on me one day that there are Cartwrights and Wainwrights and Woodwrights and I thought 'Hey, I craft realms.' Thus, Realmwright.

  3. Describe yourself in three words. Tall, bald, beardy.

  4. Are you left or right handed? A little of both. I write right-handed, but I use some tools as a southpaw.

  5. What was your first deviation? Theron Darksun by Realmwright

  6. What is your favorite type of art to create? I suppose you'd call it "conceptual." Most of what I've posted has been based on impulse or an idea that I had to see "fleshed out." I have a lot of ifs and maybe and I wonders rattling around the old brain pan and it helps to have somewhere to put them.

  7. If you could instantly master a different art style, what would it be? Wow. That's a really good question! I guess if it was just *POOF!* I'd want musical talent: instrumental, singing, composing. I say that because I've dabbled in pencil, charcoal, sculpture, photography, and writing, but never music. 

  8. What was your first favorite? I've organized and shuffled and faved something over 4,000 pieces. I can't remember what was the very first. I'm sure it was fantasy based. Probably a ranger or monster or sword or something.

  9. What type of art do you tend to favorite the most? It just depends what I'm in the mood for. It's usually fantasy or sci-fi related, but lately it's just been whatever strikes my fancy. Sometimes a landscape photo or a piece of writing that captures my attention. In fact, I recently meshed the two in a collection called "Worth 1,000 Words" where something I see generates an idea (be in flash fiction or something more substantial) and I grab it.

  10. Who is your all-time favorite deviant artist? That's not fair...making me decide...making me pick one over others. I refuse to make anyone who has shared and inspired and moved me feel like I chose someone else.

  11. If you could meet anyone on DeviantArt in person, who would it be? Again, that's not fair. There are different deviants for different reasons. If I wanted to talk Tolkien, it would be one. If I wanted to talk BSG and spacey navies, it would be another. Can I just say I'd like to raise a glass with any and all of my faves?

  12. How has a fellow deviant impacted your life? They make me think. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They make me share something powerful and brilliant and squeal "Hey, come lookit!"

  13. What are your preferred tools to create art? I don't have a tablet and my drawing table is piled with junk. I feel quite left behind with the advance of digital everything and I'm too lazy to commit to doing anything about it. But I type really fast and I'm a wordsmith and storyteller by compulsion, so mostly I just string letters together in the right order and hit Enter. I haven't wielded a simple pencil in many years, but that was how I started oh so long ago when life was more simple.

  14. What is the most inspirational place for you to create art? Sometimes it's my dank, little hole in the basement, lit by a 60 watt bulb and my monitor, that my dog thinks is the designated "fart and leave" room. Sometimes it's my gray, uninspired cubicle at the big office building that I get paid to occupy. Sometimes its sitting in traffic and telling myself sweeping epics or quite fairy tales because there's nothing on the radio. Or about once a month it's my brain getting an idea at 4:00 AM on a Saturday that makes me get up, make coffee, and slink to my aforementioned "fart room" to squint over the keyboard for hours and hours - after which I feel guilty for not getting dressed, mowing the lawn, and/or going to work for overtime pay. Neil Gaiman said it best.

    "You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we're doing it."
  15. What is your favorite DeviantArt memory? Being taken by surprise and WHAM! Inspiration strikes. It happens quite a bit. When it does, I love it! Even if it's 11:39 PM and I swore I'd log off and go to bed hours ago, but just one more Page Down....pleeeeeeease. When it doesn't happen, I curse myself as an ignorant, no-talent clod, and drag myself off to bed. Those are usually the Friday nights after a long week when what I really need is sleep. They're generally followed by my insulted subconscious saying "I'll show you 'clod.' Now get up at 4 and go write! You can sleep when you're dead. That's the part where your kids find your piles of half-finished manuscripts and constructed worlds, and sell them to make you posthumously famous and live off your unrealized dreams. Bwahahahaha!!" Sometimes my brain is a really reciprocal jerk.

deviantID

Realmwright
Realmwright
Artist | Hobbyist | Artisan Crafts
United States
I've always had an interest in arts and humanities. I don't do much in the way of sketching anymore and my photography gear is gathering dust in a closet. For the past several years my focus has been the written word. I'm super into worldbuilding and everything that goes with it. I'm just starting to get into tabletop RPG play and design.
Interests

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:iconlidiavives:
LidiaVives Featured By Owner Oct 16, 2018  Professional Photographer
Thx for the fav!! :) <3 
The Aviator by LidiaVives
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:iconrealmwright:
Realmwright Featured By Owner Oct 17, 2018  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
You're quite welcome.
Something about his build and posture makes me think of young, scrawny Steve Rogers before he became Capt America.
The way he's looking off into the sky gives me an idea that he's always wanted to fly but something he cannot help/change about himself is keeping him from doing it.
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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner Jan 27, 2018
Thanks for the +fav
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:iconmaria-schreuders:
Maria-Schreuders Featured By Owner Jan 26, 2018  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you so much for faving my photo´s :+fav: :heart:  I really appreciate this
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:iconyuukon:
Yuukon Featured By Owner Jan 23, 2018   Photographer
Thank you for watching me, I appreciate your support! La love 
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:iconhubert61:
hubert61 Featured By Owner Aug 13, 2017
merci pour les favs :)
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:iconaneurysmguy:
AneurysmGuy Featured By Owner Jul 16, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fav! :D
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:iconpajunen:
Pajunen Featured By Owner Jul 1, 2017
Thanks for the :+fav:
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:iconlaurenipsome:
LaurenIpsome Featured By Owner Jun 14, 2017
Thanks for the :star: on "Cast Off Characters"
There is a sequel if you're interested:
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:iconrealmwright:
Realmwright Featured By Owner Jun 17, 2017  Hobbyist Artisan Crafter
I loved it! It's quite reminiscent of Neil Gaiman's Endless.
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