"Twas the night before Christmas when all through the chat not a person was stirring except for MegerisAzarael, the stockings were hung by the Topic with Care in hopes that Saint Raggatron soon would be there. Kelsayyy was nestled all snug in her bed while visions of graffiti art danced in her head. and Hazelnutx in her 'Kercheif, and Ayame409 in her cap, had just settled down for a small chatters nap. when out on the lawn they heard such a clatter, they sprang from their beds to see what was the matter. Away to the window Ayame flew like a flash, tore open the shutters and threw back the sash. The moon on the breast of the-moof fallen Purpl
Sirens Revenge
Ligeia stood on the waters edge, her unseeing silver eyes looking at the horizon, while her hair, lit up by the fading sunlight, shone a molten gold. She was aware and yet unaware of the wind biting into the soft flesh of her arm; of the sharp rocks cutting her small feet; of the rapidly cooling briny water grabbing at her ankles, begging her to come back. She had been undecided earlier, but when she had seen him whispering to her yesterday under the light of the moon, the last whispers of her conscience had died. The way he had looked at her, and the way she shivered with excitement; the way they held each other k
The dynamic between core staff, volunteer staff, and the community can at times be pure quality dArama.
It's worth noting that for years I've worked pretty hard to remain neutral on community politics. Today, I'm going to shatter that concept.
Needless to say, I am extremely politically aware of the inner workings of the deviantART community. I read *a lot* of journals, comments, forums, chat rooms. I have fake accounts. I spy.
But I don't spend my time talking politics, instead I focus internally at deviantART designing technologies and implementing understandings with core staff to address the issues I see pop up.
It's time to take a mo
Through the clear glass, I see him. Hes staring at me from that deep green field, his eyes never blinking as I work. I glance over occasionally to see if hes lost interest, or even moved, but no. Hes still there, his eyes following me, his face set in a mask of perpetual boredom. There were numbers floating about him, but they mean little to me. I wish I knew why he was watching me.
Ive seen him here often enough; his face is burned into my mind. I see him everywhere now, even when my eyes are closed, always on that strange green screen, always with the numbers about him, though th
Light spilled into the room, capturing and highlighting particles of dust as they slowly flitted through the air. The room had a timelessness to it, an age, and a strength held deep within the floor of sun-bursting oak, the mahogany desk, the anachronistic polished steel and plastic book case. The light, filtered through the thin dust, left a splash of striped shadows that slowly would walk through the room as the day progressed, and would soon meander across the unoccupied four-poster bed.
The bed itself was reminiscent of more recent designs, but had lain untouched since it had entered this room. The sheets were just as tightly pressed and
I have lived here for some fifteen years, in this house at the edge of the woods. I had moved here to escape my former life, to get away from the world. I had moved here to find solace. What I'd found was more than I could have asked for. I had found my home. There is a rhythm and vitality to life beyond the reaches of civilization, a wild energy that the hurried hustle and bustle of the cities could never touch. A purity that makes a man young despite his years and a freedom to live to whatever potential I could find within myself.
Right now, that potential is showing itself in photography. Oh, I'll never cut it with National Geographic but
Have you ever noticed how absolutely great everyone thinks Santa Claus is? He's just a jolly old fat guy who works his ass off to give us great gifts every year, right? Well, if that's what you think, you're wrong. What everyone fails to see while they're opening up their new playstation 3 or diamond bracelet on Christmas day is that Santa is nothing more than a mobster. We shouldn't be looking forward to receiving "gifts" from this diabolical myth, we should be trembling under our blankets wishing for a special witness protection program. I'm sure that by the time I've finished laying it all out there for you to see, you'll be switching to a