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some simple rules:
Submissions are accepted only in the "Submission" folder
mature content is surely allowed, with a tag.
If you submit art, you will need to comment/critique on works featured in "Unappreciated works"
and comment on the journal with the title of the work or link
Each work submitted will get one critique/comment from the Admin
If either party (writer/criticizer) is rude, I want you to contact the Admin and they'll deal with it.
We are accepting Admins so if you are interested, Note NotenSMSK!
all the regular dA rules apply
Here is the Link to the present unappreciated feature! thecritiquables.deviantart.com…
GiD / DiD / Mature; Guy or Damsel in Distress. This means somebody is in peril.
I think "mature" speaks for itself really.
OC = original characters so for when YOU have created your characters
Fanfic: for fictions with character created by somebody else
The one Shot folders are for stories that only have the 1 part that you want to submit
Chapter stories folders are for when you have written/are writing a piece that consists out more then 1 piece.
Poetry is where all the poems and the like go.
Featured is the folder where a work we feel should be appreciated, goes
If you have any questions, suggestion or issues please don't hesitate to let us know
E.M.U: The Melancholic Melody of Minion MeropeEvil Minions Union: The Melancholic Melody of Minion Merope (or, The Making of Minion Franklin)
November 4th, 7pm.
It was Mischief Night. Minions swarmed the streets, determined to paint the town red on their one night of freedom. Bins were pushed over, windows were egged, and trees were toilet-papered. On November 4th, all was glorious, mischievous chaos – just as it would be every night once The Great One ruled the world.
However, not every minion's heart was light.
Beneath both the cloak of night and the velvet cloak around her shoulders, a slim solitary figure walked through the city streets. Her footsteps were slow and soft, and her head was hung in sorrow; she only occasionally swerved from her personal path to in order avoid hurled stones and badly-aimed eggs. Her associates called to her, whooping and hollering, goading her to join in with the fun, but she simply could not feel the joy they felt at that moment.
Yes – tonight, she was free. But tomorrow, she w
I live on the ceiling.
I dance above an empty graveyard,
With the hope of filling it one day.
I fall in the opposite direction.
And my thoughts
and my passions
and my fears
wait for my eventual slip
over the edge of invisible canyons.
I walk on rooftops, on tree branches,
clinging for dear life.
I live on the ceiling,
and pray it doesn’t fall from above me.
Here is my room.
My furniture is bolted up.
My shoes are weighted heavily,
and should my laces come undone,
my arms can wave in all directions,
or float helplessly at my side.
This is the face you will only see
My tears roll up my forehead.
My smile curves downward.
And should I ever choose to leave,
I will be granted an audience of birds,
as I float toward infinity.
[Sonic] The Last Frontier: Ch. 1The fiery rays of the evening sun were scarcely visible through the thick canopy of the trees as I jogged my way back into the cozy little village that my friends and I called home. In the shadows of the forest, the few people that were shuffling about may have given one the impression that this was the kind of place where nobody was in a big hurry to go anywhere or do anything, but I knew better, as I made a beeline for the large round building in the center of town. Its stone-and-brick construction -- with a light-gray protective stucco coating on its outside walls -- was a stark contrast to the predominantly wooden dwellings and small shops that surrounded it, making it easy to spot. It was the place where official town business was conducted during the daytime, and used as an informal gathering area most other times.
I knocked on the wide wooden double doors, more to announce my presence than anything else, and then pulled one open to walk inside. The recess
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