I am here to fawk shit up c;
Reunite. Komoria felt a sense of unease with the male and looked away from him. He came off as though he could not trust her, and this made Komoria wish to leave him be. She then turned to the fae, her ears perking in wonder. She was the pack wolf; wasn't she? Komoria shook her glossy skull as the evening light rolled over the horizon. Her black bodice has a succulent tinge of orange lining each voluminous fiber as she blinked slowly to the pack wolf. She did not wish to speak anymore; it drained her of her energy. The fem simply nodded her greeting, trotting past the dame with as much elegance as she had before.Reunite. by Dirty-Couch
Komoria was on her way to a place that she rarely ventured to anymore. A lump formed in the fae's throat as she heaved herself at a steady pace through the valley. It had faded to night by now and the cool winds whipped softly into the Dyani fields, the pale disk in the sky had a dog moon surrounding it, the faint glow of the reflective p
Holiday Card Project 2013Holiday Card Project 2013 by madizzlee
It's back! With the goal of bringing a little cheer to patients in the hospital during the holiday season, the deviantART Holiday Card Project connects deviants from around the world and applies their tremendous artistic abilities in designing and creating uplifting holiday cards.
In past years, the Project has received more than 5,000 cards sent in by more than 1,000 deviants from 50 different countries/political regions. Cards were then divvied up and distributed in-person by deviantART members to local Los Angeles hospitals, with additional cards given to various hospitals in the U.S. and abroad for hospital staff members to hand out to patients.
The idea behind the Holiday Card Project is simple: do something nice for others. However, if you're looking for even more incentive, every deviant who submits a card will be given a free one-month Premium Membership to deviantA
Selfish Suicide"People who kill themselves are selfish."Selfish Suicide by MikkiMarie
Well, darling, let me tell you a story,
A story all too true.
A daughter who became a wife, a wife who became a mother.
A mother of three girls...
One just above the age of a toddler,
One at the age of twelve,
And one entering the life of a married adult.
Now, the youngest girl was watching television,
And the oldest at the neighbor's home.
The twelve year old daughter sat at a computer with her closest friend,
When something terrifying happened.
Her mother was in the kitchen, coughing.
The daughter, although unable to see her mother, only could imagine the situation.
The mother walked calmly past the daughter with tears rushing down her face,
And up the stairs she went,
Into her bedroom...
Locking the door behind her.
The daughter, hearing the door lock, didn't bother to check on her mother.
She decided to expect and hope for the best.
Five, maybe ten minutes passed, the daughter still sitting at the computer,
When the mother stumbled down the
Your Poetry SucksYes, roses are redYour Poetry Sucks by CrumbledWings
And violets are blue
But you have to understand
Who said they had to,
Its about imagination
Emotion and orignality
Not the reiteration
Of dead men's practicality
They are your sentence
To a world that has to listen
As you create the difference
Whether it be
With angst poem against love
Or how you set your heart free
To fly like a dove,
For these words
Whether or not they be true
Their beauty and ideals
Will be used to define you,
Hope ,in fact, has feathers
And like a caged bird it sings
But these words will only be tethers
That strip you of your wings,
Those are their words
Meant for their time
And meant for their herds,
But this your time
Meant for your words
And whether they be meaningful, stupid
Or completely absurd
I'm sure they'll be amazing.