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Deviant for 12 Years
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Literature
Wind Boy 18
Dad caught sight of my faraway form, and it was like he suddenly remembered I was there. A big grin spread across his face and he took a dive in my direction. He and Amanda both returned to where I waited, he rumpling my tunic and laughing, she giggling. I felt the tiniest prick of jealousy. I'd never be able to race with her like that, so fast that she had to fight to keep up and was reduced to breathless laughter after.
The two of them phased between shimmering translucency and their human-like colorings, as wind spirits are wont to do when they're high-energy. Amanda elbowed me, and I smiled.
"So Sky," Dad started, his eyes bright. "I told you about our plans, right?"
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Literature
Wind Boy 17
Amanda screeched happily and tumbled away after him. I watched their game of tag, which was impossible for me to keep up with since I could neither dissolve with the wind nor cross such far distances with the furious speeds they could.
But every time they let go of their shape for a few moments at a time, I tried to follow the gusts and pale trails of diamond-like shine with my eyes. Amanda created soft swirling patterns this way and that, spinning and changing the way you see dust in the air do when the sun shines on it. Dad, on the other hand, dissolved more like a burst of fire, but clear and elusive, trailing just hints of silver in explosive patterns.
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Literature
Wind Boy 16
“Good morning, Matthew,” Amanda said easily. Wind People don’t bother with formalities most of the time, not even between youth and adults.
“G’morning,” my dad responded cheerily, rubbing his fist into my scalp before finally releasing me. I huffed and combed out my silvery hair with my fingers, but I was pleased. At fourteen I was hardly a kid anymore – so I thought, anyway – but I soaked up every bit of fatherly affection I could, as if I were a sun-starved plant yearning for any little drop of light I could latch onto.
“And how do you fare, Miss Amanda?” Dad asked. He made a quick bow, then dashed toward her and pinched her shoulder. “Gotcha!” He streaked nimbly away, his perpetual piper’s grin visible despite his speed.
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Circe As Elsa by WishIWould Circe As Elsa :iconwishiwould:WishIWould 3 11
Literature
Wind Boy 15
Mom stood at the edge of the cliff near her hovel, staring out over the choppy sea as the sun sank lower. I drifted low and touched ground beside her. The stiff wind blew right into my eyes, pushing the wetness back from them. I welcomed the feeling. It was as if Amanda were still here, trying to wipe off my tears.
I took Mom's hand, as I had done many times before when she stood at her lonely seaside vigil. But this time was different. I understood now the ache, the lump in my throat I'd never be able to swallow - the way the breeze blowing past my dried, salty lips almost felt like her kiss again. For me, it was final. Amanda was gone. But for Mom...she still had a hope, even if it was a dead one - even if she hadn't seen him for years, he could always come back.
Amanda wouldn't.
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Legend of Lauren: Wind Waker by WishIWould Legend of Lauren: Wind Waker :iconwishiwould:WishIWould 0 5 Esmeralda Kicks Trash at Hogwarts by WishIWould Esmeralda Kicks Trash at Hogwarts :iconwishiwould:WishIWould 2 4 Esmeralda and Frollo at Hogwarts by WishIWould Esmeralda and Frollo at Hogwarts :iconwishiwould:WishIWould 0 4
Literature
Twilight Princess Chapter 5
THE LEGEND OF ZELDA: TWILIGHT PRINCESS
Chapter Four
Transformation
*
Come, the kingdom is in danger!
Please, won’t you believe me?
Get out of there...
Deep blue eyes.
Link...
I woke with a start. The woman's voice faded from my mind.
What time is it…?
I groaned, then dragged my hand up to cover my face. My hair tangled in with my fingers. It couldn’t be long before sunrise, could it?
No bothering with getting back to sleep, not now that the night was more of a penetrable grey than simple, sheer blackness. I’d be up at dawn, anyway.
I stood up and stretched, then went to splash water on my face. I looked up from the basin to my mirror. My reflection looked a little peaky, and I felt agitated. What had I been dreaming about? I could never remember. Not the monkeys, not the tree, nothing from the day before...
I stared into the mirror. Blue eyes….
Maybe I had dreamt about my mother.
The wind picked up. Boards and shingles groaned
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Literature
Little Mermaid Drabble
“Do you even know what ‘witch’ means?” the sea witch asked me. She traced a shell-like fingernail across the spine of one of her bound collections, mouthing the foreign title’s pronunciation.
A tremor wriggled its way through my body, making the webbing between my fingers flutter in the current. “It means…a woman who does magic,” I said, my gills contracting unevenly. I folded my arms tightly around my dark brown, scaled torso and flushed my fins forward so I could back away – subtly, or so I thought. “Evil magic,” I added in a mutter, avoiding her eyes.
The sea witch turned away from her shelves of accumulated records and gave me a long, unimpressed stare. Then she turned back to her books. “No.”
I waited silently, aware that I was very vulnerable, alone in her territory, asking for her help. I shook my head quickly making my clouds of floating, tightly curled, seaweed-textured hair billow around me.
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Literature
Wind Boy 14
"Sky!" Amanda and I both turned our faces up to the source of the echoing shout. A figure swooped down like a peregrine falcon in a dive - heavy, straight, and impossibly fast, yet controlled. It really was an incredible feat. So of course I knew who it was.
"Hi, Dad,” I replied, rolling my eyes with a grin. He swooped down, dissolving into so many gusts of air. I twisted my neck around as he blew through me, whipping my hair around and planting the lightest trace of a fatherly kiss on my forehead.
I heard him laugh before he re-formed on my other side, still chuckling. Amanda giggled as my dad caught me in what was half-hug, half-wrestle. "Welcome back, Sky!” he said with enthusiasm, squeezing me so hard I could barely breathe. I shook my head with a rueful smile and tried to shove his face and arms away, maybe even pin the latter behind his back - but he got the better of me, as usual.
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Literature
Wind Boy 13
I almost feel like I don't quite have the right to use the word Hüshwa, I guess?  Like, maybe if I were more truly a part of their world and always had been, maybe if I didn't have red blood mixed in with the air-made-liquid in my veins, I'd have more of a right to claim the language and people and culture as my own. Which, they are. They've never excluded me from anything, ever. But by virtue of my relative solidity, my mother, my home-on-the-ground...there are just some things I can't do. Some ways I'll never be a part of the Wind People.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I'm punishing myself for not being what I want to be. I can call myself a Wind Person and feel okay about it. But I can't call myself a Hüshti, not without a trickle of guilt, a sense of farce, oozing down into my stomach.
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Literature
Wind Boy 12
When I slow down enough to get pensive and let the thought rise up from my semi-consciousness, it's unsettling, being on the outside of two worlds because I'm a part of both of them. Wind people don't call themselves wind people, did I ever mention that? It's what the humans who first saw them called them, and what my mother called them, so it's what I still call them. Us.
But they call themselves Hüshwa, which essentially means - well, it's hard to translate, exactly. But if you combine the sound of air tickling the tree leaves with the whooshing sound of wind whistling through a tunnel, then add in a sense of complete freedom from the restraint of gravity, and make all that descriptive of a people – that’s what Hüshwa means.
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Literature
No. 9
No. 9
Sometimes a special someone will just drop into your life
And somehow let you slip inside his heart and shine the light
To see the scars and wounds he doesn't share with anyone
There's sadness but there's peace - you have been granted special trust
So suddenly you have this tiny creature in your hand
A work of art so beautiful, so fragile and complete -
It's bruised from early beatings, cut and calloused from mistreatings,
But strong and wise and smiling; always, always filled with love
What do you do? What do you say? How not to hurt this man
Who took a risk and placed his inner pain into your hands?
It's more than that. There's more to him, to you, to me than this
The way I want to say things can never do the thought justice
It's interesting, how when I fell and couldn't help myself
He calmed me down, he helped me breathe, made sure that I could stand
You'd think that if I wrote the phrase "I felt safe in his arms"
It meant the story that I'm telling signifies romance
But somet
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An Irish Welcome by WishIWould An Irish Welcome :iconwishiwould:WishIWould 4 18
Literature
In Response to Twilight: My Kind of Man, Pt 2
Edwin gasps – except it’s more than a gasp, it’s like a death rattle. But opposite. Because he’s finally coming to life. It’s his first breath of life in hundreds of years. I know I should keep my eye on blood level in the syringe, but I can’t help watching as he changes.
Most notably, first, his frame changes. There’s somewhat of a crunching noise as his spine shrinks and he falls several inches shorter, much closer to my height. At the same time, his shoulders curl into a natural hunch, probably formed from years of bad posture before vampirism automatically corrected it. His neck curls back, sort of the way a turtle’s might, so he can keep his head up even with his shoulders down.
I am not proud to say that, when a little bit of a gut rolls over his belt line, I want to flinch. But I know how carefully he’s watching me, now that I’m seeing what he really looks like – what he was willing to turn back to, for me. And I
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My most recent deviations! Writing and portraits are my concentration, though I enjoy trying anything! If you have an idea or suggestion for me art-wise, I'd love to see what I can do with it.

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Fun fact: I started college as a music major, then switched to creative writing. Writing's my first passion, but I sure do miss harp!

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Lauren
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
United States
I'm recently graduated from massage school, and also have a Bachelor's in Creative Writing! I love reading and writing, especially stories that deal with expanding or interpreting old folk tales and mythology.

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Pajunen Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2018
Thanks for the +fav
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Blaze-Typhoon Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2014
Hope you have an amazing birthday
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DraganTheMighty Featured By Owner May 9, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fav.
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aniek90 Featured By Owner Apr 9, 2014
Thank you very much for the fav! :hug:
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Eeddey Featured By Owner Apr 8, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for adding Elsa by Eeddey and WIP - Jack and Elsa by Eeddey to your Favorites! :happybounce:
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superprincess64 Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2013
Happy birthday! :cake: :party:
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Blaze-Typhoon Featured By Owner Nov 14, 2013
Hope you have a happy birthday
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Matthordika Featured By Owner Apr 10, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
You've been tagged! [link] I do expect the same brilliance out of every answer that goes into Wind Boy. I also expect you to write more Wind Boy.
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Matthordika Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
YOU'VE BEEN HUGGED BY ME!!

Spread the DA love around! (you can copy and paste this message on their userpage!)

RULES:
1- You can hug the person who hugged you!
2- You -MUST- hug 6 other people, at least!
3- You should hug them in public! Paste it on their page!
4- Random hugs are perfectly okay! (and sweet)
5- You should most definitely get started hugging right away!

Send This To All Your Friends, And Me If I Am 1.
If You Get 7 Back You Are Loved!

1-3 you're bad friend
4-6 you're an ok friend
7-9 you're a good friend
10-& Up you're a great friend

Love you too
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Lokeva Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for the fave! ♥
Feel free to stalk. There will be more! c:
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