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Mature content
A sprawling mansion lay in the :iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 0 0
Literature
Gia Shaped
I have been trying, for some time, to accurately describe my body type. But I now know. I’m not an hourglass or a toothpick and while it is decidedly obvious that I am pear-shaped I am in fact: Gia Shaped.
Wide child bearing hips connect to full and plump thighs, thick calves and broad feet from a barefoot life.
A full stomach, signifying fertile times while broad shoulders have had many children perched upon them. Fat but strong arms with feminine hands encircle small breasts. Far from large and nourishing though they are, I know that with children of my own the will grow.
My body is soft and giving, warm and comforting. I have lost track of the times I have been called “comfortable”, “soft”, “huggable” or simply informed (while their face is buried in my shoulder or chest) that I am a very good hugger.
For years I resented this, that I was only comfortable or cuddly; never sexy or attractive. Now I am grateful for my soft and yielding body, I
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Literature
Perhaps
The night smelt of rain but there had been none that day. The sheer humidity of the languid morning, afternoon and evening had built to such an extent that the already tropical town smelt of wet rainforest and mouldy garbage with a hint of salt, sprinkled liberally on the night air by not too distant waves.
Trees rustled and frogs croaked, all pleading in their own unspoken way for true rain. Rain to wash away the dust and green the earth and the make the citizens open their windows and savour the splash of raindrops on unturned faces. But there would be none to come on this night, nor any other, for some time.
It was on this night that our heroine Santhia was contemplating love and life and the complexities of simply passing the time on a night that smelt like a salty garbage rainforest.
It wasn't that her life was a mess or that something was looming on the horizon it was more the fact that nothing had happened in some time and she could feel her mind slowing and stagnating like the
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Mature content
Needs, Wants and Wheelchairs :iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 1 0
Literature
Blockheads, Blips and Bloody Addiction
Personally, I blame my boyfriend. It's his fault that I'm not sleeping and it's not for the reason you'd think. He's got me addicted to Minecraft.
I am staying up until four in the morning just so I can gather some more coal and try and find my house that I've lost for the fifth time in half an hour thanks to my horrible sense of direction.
Brett, my boyfriend, has been a confirmed Minecraft addict since its beta level and through him and his constant updates on his pixelated world I became aware of the difficulties and joy involved. I even learnt some of the in-jokes, not that I really understood them but I knew when to laugh at least.
During my last visit with Brett in Brisbane I even attended a Minecraft LAN party. A LAN party is a gathering of people who establish a Local Area Network (LAN) and gather together in the same world in any game of their choosing to either collaborate, as is the case of the party I attended, or to battle it out in the case of many fighting or combat adve
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Literature
Jazz, Blues and Head Banging
They were two sides of the same coin. Each vying for attention and each their own man and musician.
One would waltz as he played. His feet like a clumsy partner, stepping on the pedalled feet of the piano but still maintaining the beat and shuffling along, seeming to count the steps out in body and mind. He serenaded his partner as he played, growling low and earthy of love, lust, hate and all of the despair and wonder of life. At the end of each song he would tip his hat to the audience and it was then that you realised that you were his partner, not the wooden instrument in front of him but the breathing audience listening to every word and watching every shuffled beat. I fear I was one of the few he twirled around that dim and dusty hall.
The other was a rock star in appearance and attitude. His long hair as energetic as the rest of him, it bounced and flew as his head shook and his feet stomped. So too did his hands. They rattled the keys, tickled and then chopped. A deranged karat
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Mature content
Nightly Longing :iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 0 5
Literature
Lilla
"I don't know what to do."
I leant forward from my kneeling position beside her chair, "What do you mean?"
"I don't know where I am or where I'm supposed to be going. I suppose I slept somewhere last night but I don't know where." Her breath quickened and she looked sad and slightly panicked at the same time.
I franticly tried to change the subject, "Have you been here long?"
"I'm only passing through." She smiled as she said it and I laughed before I realised that she really did believe it.
"How do you spell your name?"
She looked at me oddly, "L-I-L-L-A."
"That's a very pretty name; maybe we could go for a walk and find your room?"
"Oh it's alright." She ground her false teeth together, the plastic squeaking and groaning. She was trying not to cry.
In the background a woman began to sing as she shuffled along the edge of the room "Dum-de-dum-de-de."
I looked at her as she waltzed along, as did Lilla.
"I envy that woman."
"Pardon?"
Someone emerged from another room, taking her hand an
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 1 10
Literature
Dried Up and Out
I wrote some time ago being average and that once you are average there is little you can do. Before that I wrote about being slightly above average, thanks to an online IQ test. Now I write to you about my fears. I have realised that I may be becoming average.
The urge to create and dream has left me; I sit down before my unloved laptop, full of movies and shows rather than words, and force myself to write about this idea that has plagued me for several days now.
The pull of the literary world has left me. No longer do I dash for pen and paper when an idea emerges from my mind late at night. Nor do I wipe soapy water from my hands to type a phrase into my phone mid-shower.
No, I sit now terrified that my once mildly remarkable talent has left me. Heh, if I believed in a god of any kind I would pray to them. I don't want to lose this; it has been my only saving grace in this world. The only thing I have ever been able to rely on and now….. Perhaps I am no longer worthy. Or I took
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Literature
All In All
The bricks in front of me are stained with remnants of memos, posters, notes and one days.  All these little things found in the bricks in front of me. How many dozens of people have stayed in this room before me? Dressed, slept and lived out their dreary lives as I am?
As I have and will.
How many have listened to the clunk and scrape of doors and cars outside, the tick of keys from next door and the scream of birds at midnight blending with the howls of drunks and the thrum of the base from the club?
Have smiled and laughed down phone lines while friends sleep next door? Snuck lovers and friends in late at night? Have coated their pinboard with things to do and checked their whiteboard for notes from friends?   
Years worth of dreams displayed on a single brick wall. All these things I have added to. All another marked brick in a wall.
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Mature content
Good :iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 3 4
Literature
Life
To write is to breathe life to a page, to create sensations and emotions, worlds and oblivion in a single pen stroke, the blink of a cursor. I have always held so much respect for writers growing up. But now that I myself am counted amongst the writhing population of amateur writers I find that my value in my own scratchings has reduced to the occasional blip of satisfaction but mainly to simply indifference.
I survey my work as a non-entity, an automaton. It holds no breath or spark in my eyes. The characters don't gambol through the pages or leap out to astound; they simply are.
I want them to twitch and sparkle, write epic sonnets and perform them to adoring crowds, to capture and entrance rather than speak and move when told like lethargic marionettes.
I am a writer, an artist; if only a mediocre one, and as such my creations, my expressions of self and muse should be phenomenons. They are not.
With time and maturity they may sprout wings and soar from my pen but as it is I will co
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 0 8
Literature
Dear Brett
Did I ever tell you my earliest memory? It's not so much a memory as a remembered smell. It's the smell of grey water splashing into a concrete sink, of rain and frogs. It's an old smell from when I may have only been four or five. I always associate it with my Nanna and Pop, this smell is their home.
I have other favourite smells; rain on dirty, freshly cut grass and old books. I know this is silly but have you ever smelt an old book? I can think of no way to describe it. Perhaps it's the words spilling from the page to scatter the air with their weight? Or maybe the paper has collected too many memories of long gone hands, people and places that they resort to scent to keep them all contained.
Another favourite smell of mine is you. Your smell, I'd know it anywhere. Your certain body spray mixed with mint and the musk of cigarette smoke. Your scent fills my nose and lingers on my bed while your taste dances across my lips.
Your taste is of smoke, mint, mango, energy drinks, those lat
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 0 13
Literature
Mirror
She sighed, running her hands down her waist and hips, feeling the rolls of skin and fat moving under her fingers. Raising one arm she shook it, watching the slab of skin sway back and forth in the mirror.
Stepping closer she looked herself in the eye, looking at the dark pores on her nose and the slightly too hairy eyebrows. The slightly different coloured patches on her lips. Baring her teeth she saw the slight yellowing; sticking out her tongue she noted the lumps and bumps along the edges.
Leaning closer she licked a stripe along her image, giggling at the distorted person it reflected before grinning and continuing to get dressed.
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 2 6
Literature
I spy
I've been seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye for days.
Not large ones, small ones, mouse-like. But somehow I doubt they're mice.
Perhaps I'm being paranoid, thinking the something would want to watch me?
But then perhaps I'm worth watching?
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 2 15
Literature
Watching
I was never afraid of the dark. No, I knew in my own way that it was what the darkness held that was worth fearing.
But what if it was the dark that I could feel watching me? Not the creatures unknown reaching out clawed hands to tear and rend but the darkness already stroking with velvet fingers?
They say that you are bathed in light and swallowed by darkness, enveloped or consumed.
Light is a fleeting thing, a touch and it's gone. Darkness on the other hand stays with you, engrained deep in your soul; so much that being bathed in light again and again may not remove the deep stain.
But stains of course add character, life lived, meaning to what is done…
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:iconfiction-freak:fiction-freak 4 12

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Jeeze... Going over my old Dream Man story and it needs a LOOOOOOOOT of work.

Bad writing, self insert OC, let alone all the internalised misogyny... 

Work in progress!
Hi,

So I have an office job now and haven't felt like writing in a while. That's not to say I haven't wanted to write but...

So I thought if I hopped on here and updated a bit I might be a bit more likely to write.


So we'll see I guess.
Jeeze... Going over my old Dream Man story and it needs a LOOOOOOOOT of work.

Bad writing, self insert OC, let alone all the internalised misogyny... 

Work in progress!

deviantID

fiction-freak
Australia
I've been on DA for quite a few years now. It's been a fun time and I'm hoping to be here for a while yet.
I'm a this and that writer. I started out as a fantasy writer but have gone onto teen fiction and anything else that takes my fancy.
I'm at Uni at the moment and am studying Journalism.
Check out my gallery and tell me what you think. I'd do the same for you!
And do you see those people under my Watchers banner? They are all good people. Look at their stuff too. I have and I adore it!!!
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:iconmorloth88:
Morloth88 Featured By Owner Feb 10, 2017   Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch :D
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:iconnevasirenda:
NevaSirenda Featured By Owner Mar 27, 2016  Professional Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving my Chinese New Year pattern! Enjoy!
Reply
:iconfiction-freak:
fiction-freak Featured By Owner Mar 28, 2016
My pleasure, it's too clever not to fav! :D
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:iconnevasirenda:
NevaSirenda Featured By Owner Jan 7, 2016  Professional Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving my silly Christmas pattern! Happy New Year to you!!
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:iconpinkythepink:
pinkythepink Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2015  Professional Artisan Crafter
:love: Thank you for the favorites, it really means ever so much to me that you enjoy my artwork! I invite you to add me to your watch so that you can see all the future beaded and stitched pieces I have planned! :blowkiss: Just think of the sparkles... :squee:
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:iconfiction-freak:
fiction-freak Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2015
You won me over :D
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:iconpinkythepink:
pinkythepink Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2015  Professional Artisan Crafter
:iconrubcheeksplz: Thank you so much for adding me to your watch! :squee: It really brings a smile to my face which is more than I could've asked for. :D I hope that I can continue to impress with my future pieces! :heart:
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:iconfiction-freak:
fiction-freak Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2015
I have no doubts that you will :D
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:iconnevasirenda:
NevaSirenda Featured By Owner Apr 6, 2015  Professional Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving my Easter Egg! Happy Spring!
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:iconnevasirenda:
NevaSirenda Featured By Owner Mar 12, 2015  Professional Artisan Crafter
Thanks for faving my Celtic Sampler! Enjoy, and Happy St Patrick's Day!

And Happy Birthday too!
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