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TBOS R6.9: Sunset shot.The whale shark gave his little blue bug friend a great big bear hug as he prepared to log off. The bug wrestled free and gave him a punch on the arm. She reminded him to visit again tomorrow--not that he needed reminding.
Once he was gone, she decided to check her mail. New message from Varra. She opened it. More stuff about how video game characters aren't human beings and that sort of thing. Oh, Varra, you lovable troll. Of course she wasn't human. She was an anthropomorphic bug wearing in a pair of boxing gloves.
But more than that, she was a teenage girl living in a world of her own.
The glorious clicks and clatters of the ancient typewriter filled the entire penthouse apartment, just as they did almost every day. The neighbors complained from time to time, but the writer never cared. If they could endure the constant screeching of the music and voices that came from their 3D flatscreen TVs, they could certai
TBOS R6.7: Happyville<Outlined portion funtime!>
One day later.
We open on a horrific wasteland. The whole place is an ungodly, dystopic mash-up of various stories and setting. Screams fill the air. Many things are on fire. Chaos is having the time of his life terrorizing people, but Antagonist looks distracted.
“Did you hear that one lady scream?” Chaos asks giddly.
“Hmmm…? Oh. No, I didn’t.”
When Chaos questions his cousin about his mood, Antagonist expresses some mild disappointment over the new world. Chaos assumes that the kills and torments have been too easy so far, and that Ant merely misses the thrill of the hunt. He offers to create a mansion full of party guests, wherein they could disguise themselves as innocent bystanders while gradually killing everyone off. Antagonist isn’t interested.
TBOS R6.6: Suddenly, death. Death everywhere. Rush rounded another corner. No sign of his sister there, either. At this rate, it would take an eternity to find her, and he barely had an hour. Having no other choice, he snatched a blank book from a shelf and laid his hand across it.
As the book gained its function, the Quintessence of Reason felt more of his strength slip away. His hour had likely been cut in half. Still, as long his legs would hold him, he would find his sister.
“Take me to her,” he told the book. It obeyed.
Follwing the directions that appeared on its pages, Rush struggled to keep his breath. His entire body was growing more gelatinous every second, even down to his bones. When he finally reached what remained of his sister, he fell to the floor in a jumbled heap.
“You should not have come,” Lady Ink said softl
TBOS R6.4: Wait, what? Weaving through the aisles and passageway, he followed the compass’ directions. Five minutes turned into fifteen minutes, which turned into thirty, then an hour. Still, Reinald remained patient; he was Theseus, the library was the labyrinth, and the compass was his string. Except he wasn’t seeking the way out—not yet, at any rate.
Finally, after eighty-three minutes (gauging time was an essential skill in his line of work), the compass guided him to a small alcove the back of a dimly-lit corridor. Calm, but resolute, he reached inside and withdrew a moderately sized chest from the opening. The case bore no lock, so he was able to swing the lid open with ease.
Reinald was no ichthyologist, but he instantly knew that the scarlet fish at the bottom of the box was from the herring family.
He’d found the plot device.
After uttering a few c
TBOS R6.3: Not who you think I am(TG's note: The previous part, Pirates of the Camprenean, isn't showing in my recent deviations for some reason. If you haven't read it yet, click the "previous" link in the description. Sorry 'bout that, folks!)
The sky was a vivid, unbroken blue, and ground was covered in so many flowers you couldn’t even see the grass. Clusters of colorful, fluffy clouds lazily hovered several feet above the ground, dissipating into colorful wisps of smoke when touched. Waterfalls came skimming down over finely formed rocks, splashing ripples into crystal clear springs of water.
A man name Rush sat the edge of one such pool, staring at his reflection. The skin on his face was sagging, but not in the way that a face sags as it gets older. No, his skin was literally melting, drooping down in odd places. He put a finger on his cheek and pulled it away, producing a strand of puttylike substance between his hand and his face. He plucked at
TBOS R6.1: Daniel vs. Llimsey & Artego Dull, bluish-green sunlight lazily illuminated a glimmering field of pipes. The seemingly endless lines of steel stretched out in every direction, twisting and coiling into a metallic fabric that completely blanketed the landscape, leaving no visible trace of soil nor foliage beneath. Some of the pipes were thick, some were thin, some slick and new, some ancient and jagged with rust, some shot acrid jets of steam, and still others jutted from the ground like the trunks of cold, hard trees.
A collection of soft pitter-pat noises was building over the horizon. The little sounds grew louder and more frequent, eventually crescendoing into a veritable cacophony of clanks and clatters. Two figures emerged in the distance, one smallish and human, one taller and green, and both running as fast as their legs could carry them on the bizarre terrain. Hot on their heels was a group of several dozen mechanized soldiers, madly spraying bright red bolts of
Campren Recap Once upon a time, there was a man named Campren McMillin. He had a beautiful home, a beautiful wife, and a psychiatrist who happily accepted large sums of money to listen to him ramble about his traumatic past.
It came to pass that Campren’s wife absentmindedly left her tote bag at home when she left for dance lessons. Being a good husband (and having nothing better to do at that moment), Campren drove to the Fabulous Ferdinand’s Dance Studio to save his wife a trip back to their house. But instead of finding a room full of aspiring dancers practicing their moves, he found only his wife and Ferdinand, who were practicing moves of a very different sort.
Utterly heartbroken, he ran back to his car and proceeded to blubber loudly. He started to drive away, but brought his car to screeching halt when he noticed a bright flash of light in one of the windows. Something had caught fire, and with every second the in
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More