... is a chocolate monster
Welcome to my DA page! I hope you enjoy browsing my stock, photography and artwork! I'm a web designer and coordinator for an investment company and in my "free" time I'm passionate about stock, architecture, horses, costuming, reading and writing short stories/fanfic. I also have a BA (hons) degree in Graphic Design.
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I'd agree with you; but then we'd both be wrong...
DA is what you make of it... just like life.
MercurialDisclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author owns exclusive rights to this story.
Rating: M (16+)
“You're not going to be able to stay quiet forever, you know.” The whisper tickled his ear as he sat in the chair, the woman's voice soft and sensual. He had never expected she would do something like this, and he was surprised to find that she had it in her. Of course, when he had met her, he had expected her to be the plain and simple woman that she had appeared to be. Finding out she was anything other than what she appeared had been an extreme shock.
“It wasn't very nice of you to say what you did, you know.” Her heels clacked loudly against the concrete floor of the basement as she walked away from him. “Why do all men think that if a woman asserts herself she's menstruating?” Venom filled her voice, encouraging him to pull against the restr
The Gingerbread HouseDisclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author owns exclusive rights to this story.
Two sides lay flat against the unyielding surface beneath, perfectly shaped squares cut into them at evenly spaced intervals. Each square was quartered, slats of uniform thickness separating the pieces so that it was perfectly symmetrical. A third side lay separately, completely whole and untouched, while a fourth had an arch carved into it. Reaching from the bottom to the middle, the archway was perfectly centered. Two triangles rested nearby, a nearly-perfect circle cut into the center of each one.
Smiling as he set the Exacto blade down on the counter, Jim could not help but feel a little prideful of his work. He turned to the box of confections sitting unopened on the counter, its bounty carefully hidden away until it was ready to be perfectly positioned. His mouth watered at the thought of the succulen
Obsession: PrologueDisclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author owns exclusive rights to this story.
He walked towards the distant house, his stubby legs trudging forward through thick drifts of powdery white. Each step kicked up more of the dust, covering him to the waist in the cool, pale particles. Staring toward the lighted windows in the distance, he felt a smile take shape on his face. It was an odd sensation, feeling his lips spread upward as the skin cracked and bled. He imagined that if he had a mirror to look into he would find that his cheeks were rosy, his face possibly chapped from being in the wind for so long.
Stumbling over a root buried under the snow, he quickly stretched his arms out in order to maintain his balance and keep himself from falling on his face. His fingers cracked and bled, leaving small spots of red seeping into the pristine white. In his delirium, he thought of the deco
Evening in ParisIt seems fitting that Olivia wanted her ashes scattered in the city of love. From where I stand on Pont d’Iena, the beauty of Paris is undeniable.
The sky, nut-brown from the lamp-lit streets, is an ocean of stars; the Eiffel Tower stands as a golden lighthouse. Around, lovers walk the cobblestone streets, hand in hand.
I see this beauty, but it does not move me like it once would have, for my evening smells like sadness and tastes like grief.
In my hands, I hold her ashes. In my chest, my heart rips.
Although it breaks me, I do what I promised her. I twist the lid, and set her free.
the words that got awaythe words are running
away from me, far from my open
mouth. I wanted to show you how much I loved you, but I
failed. the words caught us at a bad
time, sweet one, and I only bring peace to you now.
that's all this love will allow:
solitude and loneliness. happiness, it
seems, is yesterday's
talk. yesterday, when the words were within my
reach and not far away, down your
throat, cheering as they sped
through dusty corridors. yesterday was a lovely
time to be alive; to thrive, even.
now all I can do is wilt
as I run, trying to catch up
with the words that got away.
I'm so tired of chasing down these
Modified, Chapter 1: Onur Onur
It had been a year, a whole year, since Onur had begun spying on the city’s athletics team. He watched the tension in their muscles as they whizzed down the track. He noted the way they carried themselves, the straightness of their backs when they stood still, the way they stretched after a warm up. He listened in on their tactics, how they geared up for a race, how they relaxed afterwards. He wanted their trainers, their training gear, all with heat sensors that cooled or heated the body according to their core temperature — nothing at all like the usual cotton tracksuit he wore. He kept every detail written down in the mini-holopad he would consult when he climbed over the stadium fence after dark to practise alone.
He crept forward in his hiding place beneath the city stadium. A year ago, an acid rain flood had damaged the underground storeroom, and the back entrance had been left