|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
NightOne can hear the whisper of the night
A subtle sound
A guiding light
The deer’s paws as they hit the ground
Rustling leaves respond from all around
A call of nature
It expresses no danger
One can see the painting of the night
The dotted stars
The moonlight’s bright
A simple canvas, no planes, trains, or cars
Illuminating the reach of nature’s might
In the sky there’s the distant Mars
A wondrous nightscape
Not a wound or scrape
One can hear the desecration of the night
A deafening sound
The animal’s fright
Motors screech and trees are downed
One can see the destruction of the night
No one sees destruction from afar
Now no one knows the beauty of the night
Can and OughtDoes ought imply can? Does can imply ought? Well, let's look at it from an English standpoint. When someone ought to do something, they are morally obliged to. When someone can do something, it means that they are physically capable of doing something. The two words ought and can obviously have different meanings.
Can someone commit murder? Yes. Is someone ought to? Generally, no. But that depends on the system of morals used. If one follows Hammurabi's code, if the victim commits murder, it is justified under the eye for an eye principle. If one follows Christianity, then they ought not to. If according to Mark, Lisa ought to do something that is within her physical bounds, but according to Jared, she ought not do it, does ought imply can? To Mark, can implies ought, but for Jared, can implies ought not. So, does can imply ought? It depends on the circumstances.
Say a deadly and incurable disease is killing off the human population. According to a humanitarian, someone ought to develo
2020The year was 2020 and Ray knew his type of folk almost were nonexistent. Their views were deemed as obsolete and part of the Old Way. Unable to communicate in the now common dialect of English, containing very little variety in vocabulary except for the originality of the obscenities used between every other word, his kind was generally looked down upon, shunned, or worse.
This kind, once looked upon as the upper class of an educated society, has now been cast off as nonconformists. As opposed to the newer generations who seldom read except for the closed captioning on televisions, these people knew and honored the classics. They knew a Beethoven piece from a Mozart, a Da Vinci from a Michelangelo, and a piano from an organ. Sure, they viewed movies and television shows, only not as much as a New Way person. The Archaics, as they were called by the members of the new society, or Currents, lived a life that they viewed as higher quality; in that they still had the p
The Poor Man's BurdenGive away the Poor Man's Burden
For avarice is a sin
If life's a race to heaven,
Then you're letting others win
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
It's a fair trade for what they own
When you end up more than six feet under
You'll take up a different tone
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
Making them pure will do the trick
But you will discover later
Who really got the short end of the stick
Give away the Poor Man's Burden
It's a good use of your time
Their vaults for you to steal
You're not the only one who's one committing that crime
VainMarty was a vain man. He grew up on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. He still lives there now. His parents owned a prospering law firm and made a lot of money. His parents passed their entrepreneurial prowess to him and it shows. He is the Chief Executive Officer of his own health care company. Obviously, he has always lived the material life.
One day, as Marty got out of his limousine right in front of his office, his empty coffee cup in hand, he noticed a young girl, about 18 years old. She had mousy brown hair and hazel eyes with a green tint. She held a bucket in one hand and a sign in the other. The sign read "Millions of people die from cancer each year. You can help."
"Please sir, help find a cure." She begged as he walked by. He just chuckled and dropped his empty coffee cup in hand. The girl's hopeful smile faded and was replaced by a frown. He walked into the building as if nothing had happened.
Marty spent the rest of the day doing dull paperwork and checking up on his empl
The TripTy had an ordinary life. He had normal hopes, normal friends, and normal parents. However, once a year, his dad took a mysterious trip to who knows where. Whenever he asked his dad about the trip, his father would jump into a soliloquy about personal sanity. Ty would always think that his dad, a renowned philosopher and author, was just having an idea about his next book. This pattern would repeat for a few years until Ty was thirteen.
One summer morning, Ty was awoken by an incessant repetition of his name. "Ty, Ty, wake up!" The voice sounded familiar, so he woke up to find his dad by his bedside dressed in an unusual assortment of clothes. A pair of hiking boots, a netted hat, and a tan vest was being sported by the man who considered going to the diner a black tie formal event. "Ty, I need you to get dressed in outdoor clothes and get ready to go on a journey," his father instructed.
"Wait, what? Why? Where are we going?" Ty inquisitively replied.
"You will see when we get there."
Impaled By One's Own SwordIf a dead corpse could show emotion, Todd's would show shock. He knew that Jasmine's father despised him, but he had no idea how much. He forced his spirit to move; to view the grotesque scene that was his house. Tables overturned, glass broken, a bloodstained carpet. Worst of all, his remains looked disgusting. The dried blood all over him lead to his chest. He saw a crescent blade with a ruby hilt the color of his blood.
Todd, furious used all of his ghostly willpower to go on a long trek. Of course, he did not notice the passing time as a ghostly essence. At last, he arrived at his destination during what looked like the dead of night. There, he passed a room where he knew quite well. The handcrafted sign on the door said Jasmine. He lingered there for a moment to remember the times he had with her. He slowly crept up into the room next door. There, he saw a man, obviously asleep.
La Noche TristeI never thought that it would come to this. My soldiers, my friends, are all dead. They were killed by the Aztec savages and their satanic deities. It should have been me. For I, Hernán Cortes, the leader, the oppressor, the conquistador, have been the real mastermind behind this terrible ordeal. We obtained gold, but at what price? This sad night, this noche triste, will live in infamy forever. But how did it happen? I have to think back to the events of the day.
After a week of debate, my advisors and I had decided to leave the city of Tenochtitlan due to civil unrest. We planned to begin our journey when the city was asleep; carrying all of our gold and what we brought with us. From there, we would swim across the canals and reach safety. If only we knew what would be waiting for us.
We spent the rest of the day preparing and briefing the soldiers for the escapade.
Finally, the moment of truth had arrived. We assumed that the Aztecs were asleep because there were no people on t
Brutal HonestyLeon constantly contemplated what his life would be like if he had never lied. Would he be sitting in this small jail cell that has been his "home" for the past month? Would he have never been charged with obstruction of justice and been sentenced for two months in prison? Would he be on good terms with the bureaucrats at the district attorney's office? He tried not to dwell on what could have been; but he just could not help himself. Leon can still remember every detail of why he went to prison.
As a young boy, Leon Smitherson was not a genius or a fool. He was average except in one area of his life. He often had a knack for trouble. He never went to look for it, for his father, a prominent fine arts enthusiast, would often coin expressions. "We would be fools if we thought that we had to search for mischief" was one of his father's favorites. Instead, trouble usually found its way to Leon. When havoc occurred, Leon would cover it up with lies, lies, and more lies.
When he was in Kind
Levi x Reader: After All This Time? (9) (f/n)'s eye shot open immediately, before she could react to William's lips on hers. Levi shoved him and pushed him against the wall. He had his arm on William's neck, very ready to strangle him. William, however, remained unfazed by his attack.
"Why were you kissing my wife?!" Levi shouted, adding pressure on William's neck. There was something about this man that Levi could not trust. And something that he didn't like as well. (f/n) was confused. She woke up feeling warm and soft lips and now the owner of those lips was being strangled.
"I'm going to kill you for that!" Levi shouted once more, about to strangle him to death. (A/N: LOL)
William got bored of Levi's childish threats and his not so effective strength and shoved Levi off, fixing his tie that Levi had ruined.
"Levi! What the hell are you doing in my room?" (f/n) questioned, keeping a stoic yet irritated face. She looked at William threateningly while he
An Alchemist's Experience
Proofed by: NorthboundFox
“Just a few more ingredients…..” Ozzy muttered as he bounced around his workshop. Dried herbs and plants hung from the rafters of his basement brushed against his face as he furiously swatted them aside muttering under his breath “dried baby’s breath…… dried baby’s breath…… nooo…. nope…nope… nope…. AH HA!” he exclaimed happily as he jumped off the stool beaming as he thrust the bundle triumphantly at his mate. Jenna sighed and shook her head slowly, “looks the same as all the others to me.” she said with a shrug. Ozzy’s expression drooped, “you know I could teach you to do this yourself you know right?” He walked over to a small pot hung over a Bunsen burner and dropped 3 of the flowers in. “I know, I know…” Jenna said as she padded behind him and nuzzled his neck, “but I’d
England x Reader [Oneshot] [[Commission]]
England/Arthur Kirkland x Reader
Commission for SweetDarkJen
Hetalia and it's characters © Hidekaz Himaruya
This story © RecklessAlbinoChibi
You © Yourself, or whoever you want
Her brightly coloured trainers clicked against the dirtied school floor with each step that she took. The sounds of her footsteps meshed together with the shouting voices of the many students that attended Gakuen Hetalia High as they either attempted the push past the crowds and get to class or mucked around in the halls. However, it was mostly the latter. Her footing was slow and tired, a legit sign that showed her destination. She was heading towards the most hated subject ever. Maths.
It was the last lesson of the day; both a blessing and a curse. Her [favourite colour] school bad was slung lazily over
(Req) Methods of Communication (Canada x Reader)
"Ahh! Oh no!"
Pausing mid-sip of your drink, you glanced up.
Matthew Williams, probably one of the most discussed guys in your year at college, was standing a ways across from where you swear, beneath a large oak tree that had likely been planted there when the college was first built. Its great height and width stood as a testament to just how much both it and the college itself had grown since their beginning. From the distance you stood, it looked like Matthew had dropped a folding, sending a wad of papers scattered about his sneakered feet like giant, grounded butterflies. He hastily crouched, grabbing at the papers haphazardly, in a desperate attempt to stop them from being swept away by the breeze snaking its way between the buildings, but taking care not to crumple or rip the pages.
One paper, however, missed his frantic fingers and zoomed off, carried away by the air current. You glanced down, jolting slightly in surprise at the paper slapped into the leg of your jeans. Bending
Reader x Trickster!Nepeta: Egg Coloring"EY YO BITCHIE-"
"Oh my god she's still alive are you kidding me?"
Your name is ___ ___ and your... matesprit, Nepeta Leijon, Tac as you call her, is frantically pounding on your door.
"BITCHIE LEMME IN I REALLY NEED TO MAKE PLANS WITH MEW AND YOUR CUTE BUTT."
"Do we have to?" you groaned. You were literally laying on the floor of your cute little one-story apartment. Your Siamese cat, Simi, licked your nose. Simi was fond of the troll and in return, the troll was fond of Simi.
"Uh. Well not really but I'd sure as hell purrefur mew did." you heard her make a face. "And befur mew ask, no I didn't kill anyone this time. Da po-po let me furreeeeee~" the Trickster chirped.
"Fine." you simply said, wiggling over to the door and sitting up, staring at the oversized wood plank. "What's the password?"
"THERE'S A PASSWORD?!"
You stifled a laugh, merely smirking and standing up, stepping back to dodge the olive blood's attempted tackle-pounce as you opened the door. "Hello t
A Southern Story: Chelsea at the supermarketHey! How you doing, I haven’t seen you since before the reception!
Aww, that’s good to hear, glad everything’s going okay for you! Me? Oh, I’m just bracing myself for this coming football season. I got stuck in charge of the cheerleaders again, and you know how that turned out LAST year. Put all that effort into getting skinny, ah, well, you know, not quite so hugely fat, and they all looked at me doing that and went back to stuffing their faces.
I’ve already made up my mind, I’m not even going to try this year to make these girls lose any weight. It's down to them, if they want to look good, they can stop stuffing their greedy little faces. If they want to make terrible messes out of themselves, then go ahead, have that fourth plate of nachos. I’m just gonna sit back and let them do it.
We had our first meeting last week and guess who just waltzed in ten minutes late, shoving a Hershey’s bar in her face? Kaitlyn O’Leary, reme
CrystalJessica wants to be a vet when she grows up, that means a doctor for animals. My mum told me it was very difficult to be a vet because you had to go to school for a long time (which I wouldn’t mind) and that lots of people want to work with making animals better and there are only a small number of jobs for those people. I’m not sure she’s right about that because I always see dead animals on the roads on the way to Dad’s house if we don’t go the motorway way. If animals are still dying outside then I don’t think there are enough vet doctors to go around. Adults are like that sometimes though; you have to let them think that you believe them. It’s just easier not to argue.
I think Jessica would make a great vet. She has three dogs, all of different kinds. She had a greyhound called Mario, a spaniel called Lucy and a bison - no, a bichon frise called Dahlia. She’s a little white one and only has half a bark but she licks my hands when I go
Working For The Enemy (Bucky X Reader Oneshot)Working for SHIELD was always dangerous, especially when it required you to go on covert missions to assassinate your comrades. And by the order of Alexander Pierce the CEO of SHIELD, your compliance with SHIELD's orders would be put to the test. You were well aware that Pierce was secretly working and manufacturing weapons for Hydra under SHIELD's name, but you never questioned it. Director Pierce chose you to partner alongside the winter soldier, because of your combat skills. And together, you and the winter soldier would kill the strongest assets to SHIELD, agent Natasha Romanoff and Captain America. You were sent in black SUV's to the heart of Washington D.C. where your targets were located. Your targets were driving on a freeway with the Falcon (Sam Wilson), which resulted in a car chase. The Winter Soldier was determined to kill them on sight, and when you rammed into their car, he climbed on top of the car roof.
"What the hell ar
Oddities | Iceland x ReaderThe shop is bland, faded; as if all color had been drained from it and left it solemn and grey and small, squashed between two smart red-brick buildings that towered over it a couple of stories higher, so that it looked like a little grey child settled between fat red parents, all forced into the backseat of a car driven by a relative; an oddity from every other building.
You chuckled to yourself from underneath this little shop's faded awning, listening to the hollow sounds of rain dripping onto it overhead. Why you had chosen this place, of all possible shelters, was unknown to you.
Your hair and clothes are spattered with dark, small stains of rainwater, your backpack even more so. You would worry about its contents later. For now you are stranded blocks away from home, without an actual umbrella, and have been spending the last few seconds standing underneath this awning.
The door opens with the hollow rattle of a bell -- a rattle more than a tinkle, a silent, clanking sound -- as
The Bowie Knife "What are you going to do, kill me? I'd like to see you try, Thomas!" Spat a bald man, obviously toughened up judging by the scar on his face that went with his bald scalp.
"That is my intent, Joseph!" Thomas sneered back with equal ferocity.
"Okay." Joseph put his hand behind his back and pulled out a pistol. "This should be interesting to watch. You don't even have a gun, only a silly little knife."
"This silly little knife has killed more people than you can imagine. It represents more than you and your pathetic gun can ever comprehend."
"Fine. Enlighten me. Show me the glory of your old decrepit Bowie Knife." Joseph challenged.
"This knife represents courage." Thomas explained as he was transported to twenty years earlier. He remembered meeting the abusive husband of the woman h
Keep in Touch!
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