Newest Deviations
The Road of WorldsThe heights of the pillars stretch into oblivion. Each of them has about the width of a human skyscraper. They are a brilliant white, and pictograms cover their endless lengths. Between them, there is a wide stone road of the same design. The road looks to stretch as far as the heights of the pillars that border it. And along its unimaginable length, they continue to border it. Where the road leads cannot be seen, but it is the most trodden road that has ever been followed. Yet, at the same time, it is also one of the most frequently empty. The only fact that could make such irony a reality is time. And indeed, time is on this roadThe Road of Worlds
by ~Aquamantor
Squirrel Unit 3_77>Squirrel Unit 3//77 now in operation_ >input command_ >Remember_ > >"Remember"_ >... >... >...Command not processed, please try again_ >Identify self_ >"Identify self"=Squirrel Unit 3//77, J18-5931 >Previously_ >... >... >...No information previous_ >Discover information_ >Discover information? Y/N_ >WARNING: "Discover information" will cause Squirrel Unit 3/77 J18-5931 to activate functions not authorized by manufacturers. Serious malfunctioSquirrel Unit 3_77
by ~Aquamantor
Spin - complete version“H-Harold…I’m cold again…” “It’s okay. Here, take my scarf.” “What about you…?” “I’m fine. I’m not even cold. Just take it.” In the icy white combination of snow and fog, two figures could be seen. They were both heavily clothed, but were unmistakably small; children. The first was a boy with red hair, pale skin, and freckles wearing a thick brown jacket. Behind him was a sickly looking girl, probably younger, with long blonde hair. She was wearing a long purple coat and now had an orange scarf around her neck. The boy haSpin - complete version
by ~Aquamantor
TrashThe city was grey, and filled with trash. Skyscrapers rose over an ocean of toilet paper, toys, and things that had only once been treasure. Smaller buildings seemed noticeably shrunk by the mass, and the smallest buildings were completely covered. Still, the metropolitan jungle managed to rise over the garbage, looking like the ancient ruins of a once thriving empire. Rain fell upwards, and pieces of trash with it. Up into the air, into the clouds above. Among this mass, there was no color. Everything was grey. Everything was dead. Except for one tiny candy-wrapper. It was bright red. &nbTrash
by ~Aquamantor
Favourites
Blameby ~Beanjamish
loveinvader love stareing nikki binky and dont forget the main chater me zack =]love
one fine normal horrbill earth day binky and ninkky were walking thou the house when they saw a door that was cracked alittle they walked over to shut the door but out of no were they hear moning they look inside the room and see alittle kid no older then about 12 it was a boy jugeing by the antenna they walked over to him and looked at him nikki runs and sits on the floor looking at him zack wakes up and looks at nikki he blushsed becuss he was staring at her boobs yes he was alittle perverted but who can blame him nikki grabed him and held him tight yo
by !skaterpunkkungfuboy
I have started The Wanderers
ReliefdeviantID
| I'm 18 today. I turned 18 two days ago. But I'm still 18 today. That won't change for another three hundred and sixty three days, at which point I should update it to avoid inaccuracies. Note that this will only be if I am still alive by that point, of course. Nothing is certain. I am a writer. As a writer, my job is to, well...write. Except it's not much of a job, more of an art really. Because if it was a job the world wouldn't keep begging me to put it on hold. If it was a job I'd be making money for it. (which I doubt I ever will) Most importantly, if it was a job: people wouldn't find my writing as appealing. This is all you will hear about, me as a writer, and not me as a person. I am here as a writer, I am not here as a person. Actually, I am perhaps too much here as a person, as the personal information in some of my journal entries may suggest. But oh well, I'm making up for lost time. I mostly write fantasy stories. But fantasy with purpose. I see the market for people who play D&D and turn their campaigns into novels, and I see the appeal of it. It's not for me. My ideas are more the type that are designed to not leave Tolkien rolling in his grave and give high fives to dungeon masters. Of course, fantasy is not all there is, and there's quite a bit more to go around. I eventually hope to have written something in every genre. From comedy to tragedy to horror, and maybe even horribly defiled sub-genres, such as "vampire" or "dragon" stories, in an attempt to give them their first good novel in a few dozen years. Now, if you'll do me a favor and read some of my rough, unedited yarn. I'm sure you can scratch some use out of it. After all, the writer just comes up with the story. The reader is the one who makes it true. Good night and Good day. (For those of you who live in Los Angeles AND for those of you who live in London) |
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“There is no escaping reason. No denying purpose, because we both know without purpose, we would not exist.” - Agent Smith
I do Sonic-based artwork and fan-stories, as well as space artwork. Come have a look!
Christ rocks!
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Oh god, not a writer! KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!
Avatar Made By: [link]
--
“There is no escaping reason. No denying purpose, because we both know without purpose, we would not exist.” - Agent Smith
I do Sonic-based artwork and fan-stories, as well as space artwork. Come have a look!
Christ rocks!
--
Oh god, not a writer! KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!
Avatar Made By: [link]
Now go write something about sea turtles lD
It's Jamie, by the way
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You're a nut! You're crazy in the coconut!
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Jerks for Jesus
...but don't repossess my furniture. >
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Oh god, not a writer! KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!
Avatar Made By: [link]
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Jerks for Jesus
--
Oh god, not a writer! KILL IT KILL IT KILL IT!
Avatar Made By: [link]
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Now that you've left, I see sides of myself I wish I kept around rather than throw them away for you.
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