|My first Daily Deviation. |
My thanks to everyone who read the story, and to those who said they enjoyed it, I'm glad to hear it. This was a fun piece to do.
|The October Contest Winner. |
This is one of the works I've enjoyed making just as much as, if not more than, many of my role-playing campaigns. Alex Stryker, the character in this story, he's been in a lot of other projects and games that I've been involved in.
Handling Digimon, wielding powers for shaping matter, and now as a werewolf.
NaNoWriMo 2014 - Day 18 - 30 (+3)NaNoWriMo 2014 - Day 18 - 30 (+3) by SilverWerewolf09
The questioning stopped once Apren agreed to what Gilder proposed; although he felt urged to ask her where she'd gone, how few of the buildings were open past nightfall gave him a few ideas. The tavern was obvious, and the marketplace square wasn't officially closed after nightfall, so some late-operating vendors and traders could've given her an ear for a long while.
When his essentials were gathered, he left her to rest in the room and made his way to the inn's commons. The scents of breakfast servings barely distracted him as he went outside, intent on checking on his goods and horses before anything else.
- Chapter 4 -
- Apren -
Not long after Gilder left her alone in the room, Apren felt the apprehension from the night before seep back into her thoughts. The Mage Halls were hundreds of miles from Eschalon. How long ago had the theft taken place if word was reaching this far north? If it had already reached the hands of highwaymen, it couldn't have been long.
The Mages were experim
NaNoWriMo 2014 - Day 11-17NaNoWriMo 2014 - Day 11-17 by SilverWerewolf09
- Chapter 3 -
- Ben -
Ben was nearing Elliot’s farm when he began fantasizing about marching towards a skirmish outside of town. Despite the sword at his side, he didn’t draw it when he imagined ranks of enemy soldiers coming his way. Instead, he held an imagined shield in front of him, his gaze glancing around, watchful for arrows or an ambush.
It was the kind of situation, however fantasized, that made his idea of paper armor seem like a flight of fancy. More so when he began imagining what an arrow in the right place would do to such armor.
I could add some leather backing to the paper scales…or do I even need to?
He stayed lost in thought until he heard his name being called, then looked up. Elliot was readying to meet him on the road. “How’s my sword?”
“Fixed and cleaned, like new.”
“You looked like you were about to practice with it on the way.” Elliot said as he examined the blade.
Ben shook his head. “Wouldn
|Many of my deviations are based on werewolves or forum/pen-and-paper role-playing games.|
The Best of Deviantart SJWsYou think this is just limited to tumblr? You poor naive bitch. While it's not as bad yet, the number of Social Justice Warriors is growing day by day.The Best of Deviantart SJWs by AClockworkKitten
"But AClockworkKitten," you inquire, "what the fuck is a Social Justice Warrior?"
The non-quotey non-head bangy answer: :iconkankriplz:
For everybody out there that hates Homestuck, well these quotes are all you need to know:
"Cis people are fucking garbage and every single one of them needs to drop fucking dead"
"Yes, I am trans. So? I don't see any problem. I embraced my duty to crush cissies long ago and I am happy together with my trans friends (who destroy cis people!). We have a fucking lot of power in and outside of deviantart and I am pretty slim and good looking.
But thanks anyway asshole. Go and cry about your cisphobia while I CRUSH cis people with my trans friends." (FUCKING LOT OF POWER!)
"Your friend sounds like a truscum. Also trans men are really often misogynistic and transmisogynistic shits who police
Save the Boob-plate!The reason for making this journal entry is because there is something that has been on my mind since the past three months. And not on my mind alone as it seems more artists are confronted with the same thing I'm about to say. While in most cases time dissipates the issue in my mind this time it is something that keeps bugging me over and over again to a point it irritates the hell out of me. Afterall it is a hot topic that has gone completely viral for many months now.Save the Boob-plate! by orogion
This journal entry is all about judgmental journalism, offended-by-design opinionators and the fearsome white knights that the first two bring in its wake. Surely this is something that has existed since the first written word on the internet, and for as long men could express their thoughts behind a pseudonym charade.
Recent events and a large exposure to unhealthy criticism had gotten me thinking and checking with my fellow artists. I'm sure people will say that as an artist we should learn how to deal with harsh and
I came across this site while browsing for werewolf art years ago. Since then, I believe I've found a better calling in writing fiction, fan-based or otherwise.|
I've recently graduated from The University of Houston with a Bachelor's in Business Management, and am working towards publishing my first novel, Werewolf Tale. Looking forward to that moment when I can hold my work in my hands as a finished product.
Otherwise, I'm usually gaming on my seems-to-be-dying XBOX 360 and editing for GatherYourParty.com. Good times.
George brightened at the knock at the door. It was "Shave and a Haircut," the same knock he always gave. He still looked through the peephole but knew all along who it was.
"Trevor!" he exclaimed once the door was unchained.
Green eyes glinted in the dark, and strong arms balanced a bouquet of daffodils and a plate wrapped in plastic.
"I'd hug you, but then you'd be wearing these," Trevor explained. He entered and set everything down on the dining room table. "OK, now," he suggested, arms outstretched.
George embraced his son, but with lips pursed. Trevor took care not to hurt him.
"You know," George said, "it's a shame to wear such a nice suit with all that scruff on your face."
"It's fur, Dad," Trevor retorted.
The kitchen door opened, and a tall, thin woman of about forty approached with a bowl of potato salad.
"Tessie!" Trevor yelped, and ran across the room to nuzzle her before she could put the bowl down. She giggled, sounding significantly younger.
"Help with anything?" Trevor i
Low Tide"Hey," Heather called out from the back door. "I thought of something."
"What's that?" Frank asked absent-mindedly as he blended blue and red to make ocean water.
"We haven't been swimming since last summer."
"Oh, you're right," Frank said, surprised. "We should practice before we go to Florida."
"Two steps ahead of you! Put your trunks on."
"But it's dark out, and we're miles from the lake," Frank sputtered.
"Just trust me," Heather teased. "I'll go change, too. Race you!"
With his best skeptical smile, Frank put down his pencils and headed for the bedroom. Heather already was in the closet to get her swimsuit. Frank went to the dresser and dug around for his trunks. He finally found them, and with a shrug, undressed to put them on.
To his dismay, they barely stayed up. He tugged at the drawstring, but willpower was still all that kept them from sagging. "Heather?" he whimpered.
His wife emerged from the closet with the same predicament; both bikini top and bottom were too loose for c
10 Tips for Novel Writers
1. Dont Find Time, Make It. Too many authors think that they will find the time to write sometime today or this week or next month. But think about it: when was the last time you said, Hey, look! I just found a twenty fifth hour in my jacket pocket! You know how many hours there are in a day, so stop fooling yourself. If youre going to have time to write, you need to make time to write. Whether you set aside the same hour every day or use those few minutes you have between classes, make sure youre devoting that time entirely to your writing, not sharing it with your favourite reality tv show. Writing during commercial breaks cuts your time by at least two thirdsimagine what more you could have written had you been able to focus your time and energy.
2. Have A Backup Plan. In this age of technology, the traditional pen and paper routine has been flung quite far out the window. It is rare that anyone will write a novel by hand