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Literature
The Problem with False (24)
The Badgerman had come to call on them as they were congregated in the lounging area at the tail end of that week, preparing to meet Pam at the train station. She had gotten herself a ticket, as she had planned, and supposedly done enough research to have an idea of where to go. It had been a week with no sight of or questioning from the Badgerman and he came as company again, without his pad or pen. As he appeared alongside Importune, False groaned and cursed his bad timing, because he very much wanted to share coffee, but both he and Judith had been bullied into viewing Pam’s departure. And what was there to view, he thought? He shouldn’t be amused, not in the slightest.
“It’s seems I’ve arrived at a poor time again,” the Badgerman laughed. “I do try, honestly, to come at a good hour. But you seem to be busy often.”
“We’re obligated to see Pam off at the station,” False sighed. “Otherwise it would be a good time.
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Literature
The Problem with False (23)
“So thereafter she called me something vile, and then apologized, and fled,” False grumbled to the Badgerman who, mid-week, had come to call particularly at False’s awkward request, for False hardly knew how to request anyone, and how to receive them without dread. But Judith had done him a great injustice, confused herself, and had been either vacant of her room or behind a door closed with magic. Likewise Arid had closed herself up, and False had been meandering about between naps, turning down inquiring Ladies come for Judith, and feeling quite put upon to do everything himself, since Importune was polishing.
The Badgerman was well learned at listening to him, False realized. At any point in his tale of woe Arid would have interrupted him to tell her own, or to leave and read. Human sympathies had some advantage, False supposed. The Badgerman nodded with grave politeness as he poured himself a cup of coffee and held it to his nose the way False did.
“I’
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Literature
Elephantine
we are lions in prides
keeping our boy cubs only until
they threaten the claim
of the stud presiding
 
keeping our girl cubs only until
they turn into lookers
and make their poor dames
feel dusty and cold.
 
from feline to feline
it makes no difference
so long as she gives him:
one new nuclear climax, to end the world
and a babe she must suckle, for the species, alone.
 
But the elephants mourn,
till it all becomes bones
till the Sahara dries marrow
to crispy red powders
 
and the elephants love babes,
clean into their corpsedom
till the vultures with sneerings
will no longer pick them
 
and they cannot say, but
they need no reminder  
to be unconditional, to see
the for-ever.
 
There would need be a Hallmark
in the African prairie, selling
chalky slogans printed on
cheap glittered cardstock
 
with matching envelopes
ready to read ‘I love you’
to someone unseen
and someone unloved…
 
If ever elephants behaved
As we do.
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Literature
The Problem with False (22)
Pam was something of an otherworldly smudge in the corner of the room, dressed in her gossamer black. She had traded her plain shifts worn in her running for the high leisurely fashion of the aristocracy, her waist cinched neat, her collars high, and her petticoats many expressly because she hovered—and didn’t want any curious young boys to see anything. She dressed, as Judith had noted, both like her in darkness (or, as the Badgerman had said, in grief, for she wore black in mourning, not merely for fashion), and like Strawhat. Perhaps because of this, Judith had gone quiet on Pam, too.
She was present for their meeting nonetheless, sitting in a chair in the lounge area by the fireplace, twirling her hand around near the grate that separated her from the flames. Across from her, Pam relaxed on the divan in quiet meditation with her teacup and saucer in hand. Beside her, Arid rabidly flipped page to page of a new book of magic Pam had brought fresh and crisp in its binding
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Literature
The Problem with False (21)
Two years had not been enough to persuade Judith of anything. For the love of cursing, False always thought, and with a mild, subconscious correction he would substitute Hecate in lieu of cursing, as people did in such a world.
“You’ve been late to every calling,” he murmured from her doorway. “These people call at your own estate, and wait in your own parlor for your convenience, and you’re late to them.”
“They take tea anyway,” Judith said. “It makes no difference if I’m there.”
“You can’t avoid everyone,” False grumbled.
“I can avoid everyone I hate,” she retorted. “There are laws.”
“You don’t study on laws,” False said, folding his arms. Judith bothered to turn around, shooting him a tortured glare beneath her heavy black brows. To this day it was odd for him to see clear through to her pale skin, unobstructed by tar. When it rained, she would put mud
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Literature
The Problem with False (20)
The statement didn’t slide away from False; he stared at her, somewhat shocked. And she never added to it, so he moved on to the stairway. Lye’s group had stopped mid-staircase and pressed themselves thin against the railing to make room as False passed to the forefront, with Judith as close behind as she could get, and Pam hovering thereafter. One by one they fell into line, hollow-eyed, looking as weightless as the breeze itself. As he reached the grand doors, False had the impulse to reach for the knocker—which he had never done as one of the King’s suppliers. But he had a crippling fear that he would pass through a threshold and into a place where he was no longer welcome. Dangerous powers seemed to seep from the cracks and hinges as he seized the handle, gave it a squeeze, and shouldered the door inward. It took some force and the hinges cried against him, but he managed to open it enough for two people to squeeze through at once.
There had one been carpets
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Literature
The Problem with False (19)
The breaking of the curse began with False, lodged on the very brink of vanishing, as though perched on a great cliff overlooking the Dark Sea, rippling and hungry, and yet perpetually sick with debris. He saw himself there, apart from the small and strange space of the cottage from which Urn had so swiftly vanished in the face of strife. He could feel Judith’s hands about him but his mind stood apart from his body in the gruesome dark.
From the Dark Sea hissed that ever-familiar, sassing voice which had criticized him and yet maintained his company and aided in his work: “You’ve not been yourself long enough, and I release you. I’ve done. All my ill magic, carefully learned, and this great master of a curse, and what for, if I should care?” The voice gave a sigh, and made him think of the weasel perched on his lounging chair at home, always vigilant in one way or another and wrinkle-faced toward Judith. “And so I do care. A pox on my craft, and may
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Literature
The Problem with False (18)
They did not descend like most books chronicling long wars would have had False believe. It had nothing to do with descending. It had to do more with swarming, he thought, like little erratic insects, from too many directions to count. And swarms did not really descend, they arrived. He had seen one witch distinctly, whipping around Judith’s mushroom cloud by air. And he could parcel out features—brown hair flying about in a weave, eyes surrounded by dollops of shiny blue paint. Her arms were blue midway down, clasping onto what looked to be a staff of some gem, not unlike Judith’s except that it was formed more into a zig-zag. This was one witch, and after her arrived the swarm, which appeared to him one mass writhing in circles by air and—past the haze of Judith’s explosion—by land.
For the most part it didn’t seem as though any of the swarm really concerned itself with the three of them sitting in a collective pile on the grass (for Jove was
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Literature
Skinning Them
A bird had gotten in from the outdoor department and some young collegian had chosen today to seek out the manager with a speech on animal cruelty. And Jackson didn’t know how to say, yes, ma’am, birds are in here every day, ma’am, it’s a danger to the employees to try and retrieve them, ma’am. Instead he caught Callaghan by his apron on his way out, on his way to the beach, and asked him to get a net and see if he could snare the bird before the young woman had a stroke. And Callaghan didn’t know how to say no, sir, I’m have plans, sir, this job and this bird aren’t my life…sir.
The collegian would chase the bird around and tell it not to panic. So Jackson was obligated to follow. He fled by Mosh, nearly leaving a trail of fire from the heels of his shoes, and stopped himself briefly to glance back at her and point. “Watch the registers, ya?” he called, and turned away again before receiving an answer.
“O, yes,
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Literature
The Problem with False (17)
++ the end of the previous chapter, 16, has been changed as of 9/28/15, from the plus symbols onward. 

 
There was a silence all except for the dog. A sick silence, consisting of heated stares back and forth between all of them—mostly, except for False, who had gone to staring at his hands as they dripped with goop onto his once fresh, pressed clothes. He imagined himself steaming, melting like savory, sour courfalgar did as soon as it hit anything above freezing. And he thought, melancholy, well, this is it, then? It’s not as bad as I had thought. I might have done worse.
He felt no pain, which was a decided improvement from every other minute of his venture into the warm world. This place is a curse, he thought. Never could he imagine a world so terrible, and he wondered why anyone would want to live in a place so warm and bright, and so wonderful. Everything centered around some level of loveliness. Everything had colors,
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Literature
Premature
I am an embryo fostered
Coddled, sheltered, suckled
Fetal and sleeping evermore
In the spine of a book
 
A closed book, like a closed mouth
I cannot see the world away
Wherein asphalt is for some, not me
The most affordable mattress
 
Wherein people are not people but
Dogs, but owl-eyed lookers
Voracious, green, gaping
Huffing, puffing, warm, and heavy
 
For whom all of life is a familiar place
And the natives talk in a language called
Mortgage or Insurance, or oftentimes
Credit and Scores
 
So safe is the spine of the book
Quiet save for the slow beating that
Permeates my mind and soul and asks me,
And insists I must respond:
 
“What is the square root of…?”
“Who wrote the…?”
“What is the main theme of…?”
“Compare and Contrast.”
 
And oft I sense smallness
And lay fetal, feeling tired
My eyes are black devil’s marbles
Visible beneath ghosty skin, not yet eyelids
 
I am bled day t
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Journal
Bear with me.
My laptop finally gave up and died. Naturally, that's where I had been saving The Problem With False (inadvertently, I meant to save on my flash but it redirected it to the computer memory and apparently had been saving there ever since).
Luckily, I have them here, so it's going to be a game of copy paste. Right now though I'm jammed. I can't afford to get a new one or shell out to have it fixed; I'm going to take it to staples to see if there's a quick solution but I highly doubt it from what the FAQ is saying. Was going to start designing for tshirts and buttons but my art software was on that laptop, so I can't do that either.
I have my gaming comp, and although it's exclusively for that, it has good memory, so I'll probably be forced to transfer my schoolwork, writing processes, and art capability (basically making it the everything comp) to it.
So I'm going to go quiet for a while to try and fix the damage done by unreliable devices. :B See you around.
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Literature
The Problem with False (16)
“It should be like swimming,” Pam insisted as she and Judith passed papers and sketches around between them. Each of them had woken with a start and resumed their work as though no interruption had ever occurred, and since then Jove had taken a seat on the floor near them, cross legged, with her hands resting in her lap. “You know how Dark Nature feels, so when you cast your senses there, you’ll be swimming around feeling for an oddity. The closer you are to House, the stronger it will feel.”
“She won’t understand that,” Urn mumbled in False’s ear alone.
On command, Judith replied, “What’s swimming? It’s like walking around.”
“If you think of it as walking around in there, you’re limiting yourself to one level of Dark Nature, and Dark Nature has countless levels to swim through. I might call it flying.”
“I’ve not flied before,” Judith said.
False had dismissed her as a lost
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Literature
The Problem With False - 15
While Pam moved some things around in the kitchen, the three of them stared like ship-bearers out on a horizon storm. Urn’s ears fell flat back and he had to sit down for a moment. “The living dead, that one,” he murmured to himself. Judith at once looked back at False.
“Was she dead?” she asked him softly. “How did she come back?”
False shook his head, quite shocked. Even if he had the energy to use his voice, he wouldn’t have. Truly, truly Jove looked terrible. There was a sort of pale green foam that stuck in strings to her lips when she opened her mouth and pulled in a raspy breath with such effort one would have thought the air in the room was fleeing her on purpose. Her eyes would close and her head would bob, and Pam did something that clink-clinked in the kitchen and her eyes would open and glaze over, revealing bright red veins and yellow blotches around the iris. She was black-and-blue still, perhaps more now even than be
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Literature
Laid Off
You tried really hard to outgrow the bogeyman
Whose eyes you were sure lay just under your bed
On witching nights and when
Your parents locked the bedroom door and you were
Left to draw your blanket from its scabbard
And defend yourself
 
But what did you know then
That wishing time away and begging
Urban legends to toss it in
Was the equivalent of stuffing the quilt
Of your youth into a cedar chest
 
You believed in Santa, but
You could not erase just one side
Of the coin
And your disdain
For the crawlers of the night translated
Into the captains of holidays - before you could
Blink
 
Nothing existed and you were wise
And you felt stupid
And you trusted fantasy fiction
To perpetuate the lie just
A little bit longer
And you sat in long lecture classes and
Contemplated why they won’t
Subsidize your loans
 
And sometimes you felt like that
Was living, that was it
But as the black curtain fell and
Shimmered velveteen against the backlight
 
You realized that
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Literature
The Problem with False (14)
“You might tell us beforehand if you’re about to die,” Urn said as Pam recreated her hover. Her legs dragged away from the floor as she ascended until they dangled beneath her. Urn sat himself down. “If you are, you’ve really got to work fast to open the Door.”
“Good heavens, I most certainly am not dying!” Pam gasped, whipping her hair out of her face. She clasped her hands to her chest and wrung the rough fabric of her dress. “The very thought...”
“If you do that normally I would very much dislike being human,” False said with a shudder.
“Oh, no,” Pam dismissed, “they are using black magic on my shield...which is connected to me. Most of it doesn’t reach me, but occasionally...most of it doesn’t reach me, but—oh, wait. Well, I lost about ten feet, I’m afraid.”
“Ten feet of your shield?” Urn cried. “What are we to do? That puts you at less th
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Journal
Art + Anatomy book Recommendations
Edit: updating this for new followers who might want to see this :D
15 books I recommend for anatomy, art fundamental study and art inspiration. Please note that these are simply my personal recommendations and books that's helped me a lot in the past. 
I've taken photos for these books, so Here's a less image-heavy list (on tumblr)
This took so much longer than I first anticipated so I really hope people find this helpful cause, seriously, spending 3 days on this does not feel like it was worth it ^^;
edit: I'm putting the tl;dr list here first as a preview of the books I'm recommending. 

TL;DR List of books
Anatomy Books
An Atlas of Anatomy for Artists :star:
The Art of Animal Drawing :star:
:iconQinni:Qinni
:iconqinni:Qinni 2,357 190
Literature
You Don't Know Jack
  I walked down the cold, concrete street quickly, the stress of another day at work still resting on my tired bones. The wind whipped with a chilly autumn bite and dug deep through my coat. Cars flew past on the road, and people hurried about on the sidewalks. The sky was as gray as the ground, and as soulless as the rest of the cold city blocks.
  I turned off the main thoroughfare to head down a smaller side street, hoping to avoid the traffic of the main roads. I pulled my cap down lower and huddled myself into my old coat even more as another blast of nippy air flew down the street. I was in a hurry as much as anyone else, and eager to get home and out of the bitter wind.
  I trudged forward quickly, my mind moving as quickly and as numb as my legs as they trudged forward, step after step, through the cold city.
 “A dollar for the poor?” The voice rasped out as I sped by.
  I stopped quickly when I realized the raggedy old man was talking to me
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Literature
100 TC: Love
  “You know why I asked you to come here, don’t you?”
  She looked up at me, her brown eyes brown eyes cautiously working their way up to make contact with mine. When our eyes met, she held the gaze for a split second and looked away before nodding.
  She knew. Wasn’t a secret really. Everyone knew.
  “You want to marry my mom.” She said quietly.
  I nodded. “Yes, I do.”
  I’d wanted to marry her mother, Karen, since the first day I’d met her, when she had pulled over alongside the road to help the guy whose truck broke down. I knew I liked her when she’d said with a wink, “I was on my way to work, but I’m always willing to stop and help a handsome man,” and by the end of the day I knew she was my kind of woman.  
  Two years later I was finally ready to pop the question.
  I knew that it wasn’t that simple though, she had a daughter, Elizabeth, whom I&
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:icongale-oneofmany:Gale-OneOfMany 6 36
Dog's Day Post-Impressionist by Gale-OneOfMany Dog's Day Post-Impressionist :icongale-oneofmany:Gale-OneOfMany 2 3 Dog's Day Realist by Gale-OneOfMany Dog's Day Realist :icongale-oneofmany:Gale-OneOfMany 3 13 Cryx Warcaster by Natasherz Cryx Warcaster :iconnatasherz:Natasherz 51 5 Alien Glow Deer by StoryShepherd Alien Glow Deer :iconstoryshepherd:StoryShepherd 22 9 Elsa by feavre Elsa :iconfeavre:feavre 1,565 82
Literature
Aetherea Mundi: Epigraph
Epigraph:
From the beginning, humans as a race have always been known for two things; the first being their outstanding talent for killing. Not in the entire universe is there any species that kills so easily and with such prowess. At first with their bare hands, but driven by their lust for blood and conquest the human race advanced beyond all expectations, till entire wars could be fought with the push of a button
The other trait humanity is known for the human race has always been their ability to survive. Even when the sky turned dark under the fusion bombs, humanity survived deep beneath the earth. Deep in the bowels the remnants waited their time to go back up, increasing their numbers with every year that passed and when the last of the radiation was gone, humanity poured out from beneath and resurfaced stronger than before.
During their stay underneath humanity began to evolve  and learned the way of the gods, harnessing the power within. Fueled by their new powe
:iconSincaraDain:SincaraDain
:iconsincaradain:SincaraDain 7 65
Offer to Adopt: Sweet Beep Batch (all gone!) by StoryShepherd Offer to Adopt: Sweet Beep Batch (all gone!) :iconstoryshepherd:StoryShepherd 22 32 Shoebill Watercolor by StoryShepherd Shoebill Watercolor :iconstoryshepherd:StoryShepherd 12 9 Leopold Watercolor by StoryShepherd Leopold Watercolor :iconstoryshepherd:StoryShepherd 27 25 Newt Simon by StoryShepherd Newt Simon :iconstoryshepherd:StoryShepherd 16 7 Between nature and civilization... A spark of hope by Itsarakuya Between nature and civilization... A spark of hope :iconitsarakuya:Itsarakuya 35 21 bodyguard by superxtoon bodyguard :iconsuperxtoon:superxtoon 55 12

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It's me!
Welcome, I’ll take your order, have a seat

If you were looking for the coffee shop, it’s next door. My place always smells like coffee beans anyway so I can see how you might think I’m a barista. I’m not. I thought an espresso quad was a special order. Do they go to espresso quint? Sept? Oct? How many will they do before it’s a health violation?

I’m full of too many stories, I’m too quiet for anyone’s good, I jam out to oldies and Rocky Horror, I go on 90s nostalgia trips daily, I work with animals, I communicate through hugs and video games. I love people, which means I love you.

I'm a collegian, so I'm not on here a lot. Don't offend if I don't reply awesomely fast

Thanks for visiting! I’ll probably remember you.

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:iconcrystallized-skies:
crystallized-skies Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You are a precious precious human being. <3 
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days-be-strange Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
I appreciate the watch. :heart:
Thank you~
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PoetryOD Featured By Owner Aug 17, 2015

Hey! :rose:


I wanted to drop by personally to say thanks for joining TheWritePlace! I’m excited that people seem enthusiastic about it :giggle: If you wanna know more about our group check out Our Rules (there aren’t many and they’re all mostly common sense to me!) or just ask! If you fancy getting more involved we do have positions open which you can find out about here. For now I hope you enjoy the group and find it helpful. If you have ideas on how to make it more useful, suggestions, feedback, anything, just let us know - and when our chatroom #TheWriteRoom officially launches (soon) I hope to see you in there too :love:

- Kate :heart:


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nightshade-keyblade Featured By Owner Jul 30, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
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TheSphinx Featured By Owner Jan 6, 2015  Professional Digital Artist

Thank you for faving my [Red Light 2047] :)

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