:bigthumb391622925:The ComeTogetherProject is all about encouraging community.
What are we all about?
Our goal is to bring the community directly to the members, in an attempt to inspire members to be a more active part of the community. With our focus on the "spread the love" concept, we encourage promotion, features, compliments, constructive feedback, random acts of kindness, reviews, support, and above all a strong sense of community.
We promote and feature community projects and events, bring deviants and groups with a focus on community to the forefront, post articles that educate members on how to get involved, and encourage collaboration of all kinds of art.
1. Be courteous and respectful at all times.
2. Submit to the correct folder.
3. Follow the individual folder rules when submitting.
4. Read and follow instructions closely when participating in any group series or event.
5. 1 submission per article/journal folder, per week.
6. 2 submissions per artwork folders, per week.
7. Only suggest the work of other deviants to our Favorites. No self suggestions.
8. 2 submissions per Favorites folder, per week. You may submit to "Featured" in "Favorites."
If you do not follow the rules, your deviations may be denied or removed from the group, you may be removed or blocked from the group, and worst case, you may be reported.
My Midnight Lover.I spend the darkness<da:thumb id="410243846"/> <da:thumb id="410123241"/>
Waiting for you and your gracious splendor
In the midnight shroud
Your touch to graze upon my skin
Your lips like sweet roses
I have tasted none other...
Your scent has captured me into a game
A life intertwined within my veins
My heart now, full of burning desire
I crave you more than ever before
Your love and lust are all I ever need
To declare to the world that we are twisted
Now let us make the solemn night
An anthem for the lonely hearts
With you and me touch by touch
For your teeth graze upon my whim
As I wait patiently for the crimson dawn
To never come again...
To never come again.
I Like The NightsI like the Nights. What about you? It gives me time to think; to get away, to focus. I can rest my mind and spirit, as well as see what to do. The Nights always will be there, with time to think and time to breath. The Nights relieve your stress, as well as keep you calm and sane. With them, my spirit will never wane. I see the truth with Night. I feel safe with Night. No matter what, I feel no fright. I need no other light.
When I speak to the Night, I ask myself, 'What do others think? Why am I so different? How is it one can be so wrong yet so normal?' Things are different with the Night; I can speak freely and no one will care, I can see without being seen. I can think upon the hate and see it right. I can change my opinion in one moment for the better. I have a friend, the Night, she stays with me and leaves only for a short time; I need no other. I have my friends, but none of them can see me the way they should. With Her, I stay sane. People come and go, but Night, my love, will
ClairvoyantMy eyes are always open. From the rise of dawn to the moon's reign in the night and even in my dreams, I see.
My sight shifts, swirls of clarity come and go. Sometimes it's all tinged blue around the edges like I'm underwater and I can stay down for hours without having to breathe. It can be surreal, seeing that way. A waking dream that captures my vision, so entrancing I can't look away.
Sometimes it flashes; a glint of a knife, a smile, a scream. Bits and shards of pictures- puzzle pieces giving them selves to me but some mysteries are better left unsolved.
It's a burden and a safe guard with an ocean-tide mood ruled by something not at all in my control.
I think that's what freaks me out the most. The randomness of it all, the tiny things I choose to ignore that could be important.
But I can't chase every one of them, can I?
This morning in the shower it was a storm, dark with raging winds. A broken window and wet shards of glass at my feet
UnderstandIn my dreams
To all the hurtful lies
While I dream
demons come for me
take my soul
let me go
death is calling
take me home
my agony wails
despairing of a hell
mellow of danger
call me forth
through all my anger
a little stranger
sun setting on the endangered
What It Means To Disappeari have been practicing becoming invisible
i wait in pregnant silences
until my breath freezes over
i have been practicing becoming unreal
so when i tell you 'i am fiction'
i need you
to believe me
I'm no supermanA young man walked down the street, staring at the sidewalk and tucking his hands into his jean pockets as he tried to keep himself from making eye contact with anyone he passed by. He needed to be invisible for as long as he could and, due to a very terrible mistake, he was having to quit a lot of things he used to do and go under the radar. Nick was the superhero of this city, and his identity had been leaked.
Everyone knew now that the completely average Nickolas Fletcher-Hodgkiss was the incredible hero, mainly known as Wonder Boy. Nick could never come up with a proper alias for himself, so he just stuck to the name given in the paper headlines, and he felt it suited him well enough. He was able to protect the city at night, and go to school and play his music at local bars during the days and some evenings. He was a badass, and yet still could maintain his normal personality, but now...now that had all suddenly been ripped away from him.
He couldn’t be the same average joe
girl, unknownShe believes in ghosts, draws flowers in the palm of her hand, little graveyards to all those skeletons laid to rest in her mind closet. She believes in another life after death because there's got to be more to it than this, she knows she must be missing out. She doesn't have a God but she believes in faith, everyone needs to rely on something, no matter how intangible the proof. She believes in love when he falls asleep next to her and the silence isn't too much. When she doesn't have to count her heartbeats before she falls asleep. She believes, she believes in everything and in everyone without restraint. She doesn't know otherwise.
(maybe she stopped believing in fairytales after the girl, but we'll never know)
Faye's resolutionFaye didn’t like the plan much, but it was a good general idea, what she detested was the fact that will have to go underground; originally she didn’t mean to follow Laetitia but knowing her it was better to do so, she could be too passionate sometimes and lose control once she already had it. Her contribution mainly was to get them a place that was safe enough to not attack attention and selecting the group that will accompany them.
She had been there before and the Master showed her the ways to hide in those tunnels. The Claudia Aqueduct was a large set of waterways and sewers and even if not the best smelling place in Rome it wasn’t so horrible. When they came back with a hostage she pitied the older woman, got her to her undergarments and instructed for her to be kept safe and alone, she might serve another purpose later on.
The sound of explosion resonated through the walls and long corridors, she made sure the improvised cell was properly locked and went to the
LuminousWe lie together in the dark
the pale shape of you sleeping
rising and falling in the heat
I run my hands over the curves of your form and the walls
the curling corners of posters and
the four poster bed.
naked except for your shirt
the sound of the floorboards creak
in the hush under the soles
of my feet.
stopping to smile
at the faded play on words I can make out in the dark
outside the window
(and in my mind)
|More Journal Entries|
Meet The Team
RiseandBe, Mo - Here to answer all of your questions, post features and articles, and generally maintain the group and motivate the staff.
Answer questions, moderate gallery, write blogs, contribute work to general folders, featured and favorites, and does various other jobs within the group.
lion-essrampant, Caitlan - Writes 'Inspiration Blog.'
betwixtthepages, Elizabeth - Conducts 'Affiliate Interviews,' manages DDs and DLDs folder, and suggestions.
disrhythmic, Dizzy - Writes 'Get Featured Here.'
madameshadowenn, Jasmine - Writes 'This Week On deviantART.'
WintersRead, Noah - Writes 'Get Featured Here.'
BatFluf, Alex - Conducts 'Affiliate Interviews.'
Contributes work to features and favorites, as well as main gallery, helps with various jobs within group.
TheComeTogether-Bank - Donate to us here!
Would you like to be on the team?
Send a note to The ComeTogetherProject or RiseandBe with what job you're interested in and why you want to be an integral part of the project!
conchi can't afford another museconch by Hfeather53
(i gave what was left
in my pockets
to the man that taught me how to float).
he is gone;
i hear his wet footsteps in these hollow halls
as his voice rakes clean
the sands in my mind
and he is all i see in these impressions.
i am only a conch
left with lonely echoes of what was
or what could have been
and he is the wave
gone to kiss the moon
while i wait ashore.
Loving a WriterWhen you read their work –Loving a Writer by SilverInkblot
and it is work,
and you will often come second to the job –
it’s best to know which pieces are fictions,
which ones are wishes,
and which parts are for you.
the 'd' wordwhen i was seven years old, my mother, tear-streaksthe 'd' word by MisfitableGrae
drying on her cheeks, fingered her wedding band
and told me, “love hurts, sweetie,
that’s how you know it’s a good love.”
two days later, my father came back home.
he was missing his wedding ring
and when he left again,
he left a handprint on my mother’s cheek
that she carried with her even after the bruise was gone.
i grew up without a father influence in my mother’s world
and without a mother influence in my dad’s.
neither of them got remarried.
they had found each other and that was enough.
they had found each other and that was too much.
i grew up a thin string attaching one man and one woman
together in a way arguments and resentment could never snap.
they met in restaurant parking lots and in the bleachers
of my soccer games the way soldiers meet on battle fields,
trading me across the asphalt and steel like a
deadly weapon, a bullet hurdled back and forth.
he took me out to ball games b
The Day She DisappearsIt is the day she discoversThe Day She Disappears by aMidnightMasquerade
she has ears
but no mouth.
She realizes that she said nothing
but in her imagination, the words between
her ears never escaped.
It is the day she discovers
she cried every tear allotted to her
for this lifetime.
She thinks of her brother trapped,
a life-long night terror, imagines fish
nibbling ashen remains, her father
in the lakebed, her father as a spiral,
her family as an old treehouse on fire,
blasted by lightning.
She feels a hysteria build in her brain,
the swarm of wasps rage.
The eroded ridges of her cheeks never fill.
Her eyes don't even shine,
two desert oases forgotten by the rain.
The wasps fly in and out, bringing paper
bits of leaves to create a nest inside
her brain. They lay eggs.
Feed the wiggle white larvae
pieces of grey matter,
all the wrong memories.
Wasp nests never slumber.
She can't either.
It is the day she discovers
time will not heal the double-barrel
shotgun wound she's taken to the stomach,
as she shovels her intestines
AshesHomeAshes by the-iron-queen
is the pulse of waves against my ankles
slowly rising up to my knees, thighs, ribs
until the water is over my shoulders, in my hair, on my lips
this is your embrace; I feel you still here
the strong current, pulling me deeper in
caressing me with sand and ashes
is what this feels like
the breath of life at the end of resurrection
the sun breaking through the darkness, penetrating the smoke
I feel you still here, in the ashes and waves
The call of the birds in the air, and the wind laughing in the grass
Soothing my tired muscles, easing my mind, singing me to sleep
You are still here, where the water meets the rocks
You are still here
Because I am still here
BerserkerIn the forests of my homeBerserker by FallingAsleepTonight
where the evergreens
grab at the stars,
I lay naked on my side.
Pretending to be
There is a white bear
lumbering on my porch.
He slams his weight
against my door;
eyes glazed over like a shark-
and he is hungry,
he whispers to me:
I have seen the sunset through the trees
and that is not enough.
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