snip, snip, snip. Light reflects off of the sharp silver scissors. Two girls, in the school showers, over grimy, formerly white tiles, under fluorescent lights that hum softly, a fly caught between windows noise, a bee waiting to die noise, interspersed with an electrical pop every few seconds.
One of the girls, eyes blue and sharp like shards of broken glass that have stolen the pigment of forget-me-not petals, concentrates on the other. It is a vague sort of concentration, more on her own work than the human being below her gaze.
The other's eyes are closed, focused on feeling her companion's warmth. The warmth that lives in her
She refuses to be known only as a number. They all refer to her as it, and she hates it. So what if she doesn't have a name? Why would that make a difference? 7, they call her. Patient 7, Subject 7, or just 7. She doesn't understand why they call her that. She's not seven years old. In fact, as far as she can tell, she's only been what they call "online" for a few weeks.
She wishes she could be called something else, like the people in movies. Her favourite is from Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent. The girl known as 7 likes Maleficent, she wishes she could change into things like a dragon. She thinks the queen is beautiful, in her long blac
The words come off my skin easily, their form and poetry rushing off in a cascade of newly blue foam and warm water. Funny how something, once so meaningful, can turn to the plink plink plink of water droplets hitting ceramic in such a short time.
They were lovely while they lasted, but I doubt I will miss them.
Nicole ran her fingers through her short, wavy brown hair. She winced as she hit a knot, but pushed through it.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection blinked at her, then opened it’s mouth. Nicole touched her own mouth. It was closed. The reflection stuck it’s tongue out, then ran it over her teeth. She stared, shocked at it.
“Hello.” it said.
“Why can you talk?” Nicole asked it.
“Why can you?” it retorted, looking offended.
“I have vocal chords,” she said “And I’m not, you know, a reflection.”
“How do you know?” it as
The young woman held up a well made, silver backed mirror. She set down the mirror carefully on the ground in front of a gravestone. She traced her finger around the edge of the mirror counter clockwise. She muttered strange words under her breath. slowly, with her other hand she poured a clear liquid onto the face of the mirror. It turned a startling shade of red as it touched the mirror. A blood red.
They first met in a park. It was summer and people swarmed there to walk their dogs or have picnics or just sit in the sun. It was a city park with grass, a small lake and evil geese (not that there’s any other kind of geese). The North Wind wasn’t sure how she’d ended up there, but it seemed right, so she settled down to wait.
She first noticed the human girl’s aura. It made her stand out among the fairly mundane pinks and greens. They looked almost pastel next to the brightness of hers. It swirled around her like a blizzard, icy blue and white with brilliant sparks of silver.
The second thing the North Wind no
Currents (part three) by IndigoDragon13, literature
Literature
Currents (part three)
He looked up, startled.
"What do you mean?"
She watched his eyes, looking for something, making sure of him.
"You could be immortal, here under the ocean with me." she said. "And away from them. They would never be able to find you here."
"What's the catch?" he asked tempted but wary. She smiled, certain of her choice..
"You would belong to me and change form." she said, the greed evident in her voice.
"Change form?" he asked, confused.
"I can't tell you more now, it would be against the bargain." He looked like he was about to ask a question. "Don't speak, just watch." She pulled a knife from the air. The woman
snip, snip, snip. Light reflects off of the sharp silver scissors. Two girls, in the school showers, over grimy, formerly white tiles, under fluorescent lights that hum softly, a fly caught between windows noise, a bee waiting to die noise, interspersed with an electrical pop every few seconds.
One of the girls, eyes blue and sharp like shards of broken glass that have stolen the pigment of forget-me-not petals, concentrates on the other. It is a vague sort of concentration, more on her own work than the human being below her gaze.
The other's eyes are closed, focused on feeling her companion's warmth. The warmth that lives in her
She refuses to be known only as a number. They all refer to her as it, and she hates it. So what if she doesn't have a name? Why would that make a difference? 7, they call her. Patient 7, Subject 7, or just 7. She doesn't understand why they call her that. She's not seven years old. In fact, as far as she can tell, she's only been what they call "online" for a few weeks.
She wishes she could be called something else, like the people in movies. Her favourite is from Sleeping Beauty. Maleficent. The girl known as 7 likes Maleficent, she wishes she could change into things like a dragon. She thinks the queen is beautiful, in her long blac
The words come off my skin easily, their form and poetry rushing off in a cascade of newly blue foam and warm water. Funny how something, once so meaningful, can turn to the plink plink plink of water droplets hitting ceramic in such a short time.
They were lovely while they lasted, but I doubt I will miss them.
Nicole ran her fingers through her short, wavy brown hair. She winced as she hit a knot, but pushed through it.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection blinked at her, then opened it’s mouth. Nicole touched her own mouth. It was closed. The reflection stuck it’s tongue out, then ran it over her teeth. She stared, shocked at it.
“Hello.” it said.
“Why can you talk?” Nicole asked it.
“Why can you?” it retorted, looking offended.
“I have vocal chords,” she said “And I’m not, you know, a reflection.”
“How do you know?” it as
The young woman held up a well made, silver backed mirror. She set down the mirror carefully on the ground in front of a gravestone. She traced her finger around the edge of the mirror counter clockwise. She muttered strange words under her breath. slowly, with her other hand she poured a clear liquid onto the face of the mirror. It turned a startling shade of red as it touched the mirror. A blood red.
They first met in a park. It was summer and people swarmed there to walk their dogs or have picnics or just sit in the sun. It was a city park with grass, a small lake and evil geese (not that there’s any other kind of geese). The North Wind wasn’t sure how she’d ended up there, but it seemed right, so she settled down to wait.
She first noticed the human girl’s aura. It made her stand out among the fairly mundane pinks and greens. They looked almost pastel next to the brightness of hers. It swirled around her like a blizzard, icy blue and white with brilliant sparks of silver.
The second thing the North Wind no
Currents (part three) by IndigoDragon13, literature
Literature
Currents (part three)
He looked up, startled.
"What do you mean?"
She watched his eyes, looking for something, making sure of him.
"You could be immortal, here under the ocean with me." she said. "And away from them. They would never be able to find you here."
"What's the catch?" he asked tempted but wary. She smiled, certain of her choice..
"You would belong to me and change form." she said, the greed evident in her voice.
"Change form?" he asked, confused.
"I can't tell you more now, it would be against the bargain." He looked like he was about to ask a question. "Don't speak, just watch." She pulled a knife from the air. The woman
CONTEST - ROGUES AND SILENT THINGS by Kingkiller-Fans, journal
CONTEST - ROGUES AND SILENT THINGS
To celebrate our first 25.000 pageviews and to celebrate the two new books by Patrick Rothfuss, we have organized a contest called:
ROGUES AND SILENT THINGS
Anyone who wants to participate has to create a deviation featuring either BAST or AURI.
RULES:
- The deviation has to be new, created for this contest.
- The deviation has to be submitted to the gallery folder "Rogues and Silent Things"
- The deviation will not be judged only by the quality of the artwork/photo/writing, it will be considered more important to try to capture the essence of either one of the two characters.
- The judges will be the 5 administrators of the group (and we'l
Fan Fiction for the Unconvinced by SCFrankles, literature
Literature
Fan Fiction for the Unconvinced
This is an attempt at an informal essay on fan fiction, by a middle-aged woman who reads and enjoys fan fiction. It won’t really be a balanced argument—I will be concentrating more on what I see as the positive aspects of the genre. I’ll be using mainly examples from the Sherlock fandom, that being the fandom I’m most familiar with. (There will be some spoilers, especially for series 3, so if you haven’t seen the series yet and you intend to, it might be wise to give this essay a miss.)
Why do I read fan fiction? The basic reason is exactly the same reason I read anything—some of it is of astounding qualit
you must have heard by now
that diamonds are only made
beneath a million pounds of
pressure;
you must have heard by now
that pearls are only made
as a form of self-defense;
but darling, have you heard
someone tell you to your face
that you are brilliant,
beautiful in your own skin, in
every freckle, every frown,
in every graceful good morning
and every war waged and weathered
in the marrow of your bones -
you are so much more
than the scars you wear
and the stories they will tell;
you are so much more
than the lines you will draw
in love and laughter
and landscapes made alive;
you are so much more
than the climb you have yet
to conquer -
The whole room was dark, harsh breathing was mixed with whimpers of the muffled captives. There was a bar, maybe a cuff, that covered their mouths. No talking, no screaming. Only the harsh breaths of fear. They weren't sure how they got there, nor remember anything. It felt like hell. They were chained, cold, and left in the dark with no sign of being let out. That is until a sign on the iron wall lit up at the same time as the cuffs around their chapped lips opened.
TALK.
They all started frantically jumbling words together, one quoting bibles verses, one speaking an foreign language, one begging release from the 'prison'. The
Daily Literature Deviations for March 28th, 2014 by DailyLitDeviations, journal
Daily Literature Deviations for March 28th, 2014
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Daily Lit Deviations for March 28th, 2014
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Poetry
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:thumb4411554
with my new headphones. They are the best things in creation at the moment. The sound is just.... God I started crying listening to Florence and the Machine earlier.
So now I've got to know: How was your holiday? What was your favourite gift?Anything else you want to tell me?
P.S. I'll be uploading some of my "snippets". They're not-very-long bits of stories, story ideas and plain old randomness. I'd love to put some of our story games up here, the ones I have, but I really ought to ask everyone who participated first.
reading my summer project? It kept on trying to be fluffy so I didn't finish it, but maybe I will as I type it. (Though I really ought to be working on our NaNoWriMo.)
Hello! Thank you so much for making a favorite out of my deviation "Remover!" That was a looong time ago, but I've been practically extinct from dA up until yesterday, and couldn't recall if I had thanked you...Better safe than sorry! Thanks a plenty, friend!