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About Varied / Hobbyist dacerieFemale/Canada Recent Activity
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Your words can build a world. It could be a peaceful and quiet one where everyone is eloquent to their fullest potential, or a dark and gritty thriller full of mystery and war. You could build a world to your own specifications, or you could piece it together with the words of others. The possibilities could be completely endless, an infinity of creation, or they could be the most finite and limited resource in the world. You could tell a tale of the “real” world where only the physical bodies live, or you could create one where magic and science co-mingle in all their aspects. Or maybe they don’t work together at all, and people struggle to hold it together. I can not tell you what to make with your words. The choice is truly yours until you pass the torch to another.
14 deviations

    Why?

    The question hung heavy in the air between them. “Why?” She asked him again, and he pulled his hand back out of her grip to look at the rows upon rows of clean and neat little lines carved upon his ivory skin. “Why?” Again, this time with tears in her eyes. The question was beginning to become grating. He supposed he was just curious, and he told her so. Apparently this was the wrong answer, as it only prompted her to ask the question again. Why, why, why? Why did you do this? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Why were you curious? Then the question changed.

    How?

    How could you do this to yourself? How could you do this to me? It was annoying, and he didn’t know the answer that she was looking for. He supposed that he could make up some story about how he was feeling lonely and depressed to answer her question. Wasn’t that what she wanted? But it would feel wrong to do so. It would be a lie. He did it because he was curious, and that was the truth. The question changed again.

    What?

    What made you want to do this? What can I do to help? Again he told her “I was curious.” and again she asked. The cycle became repetitive. It cycled back to the beginning, with the questions phrased differently, but always to the same end.

    Why won’t you let me help you? Why won’t you stop? She got him help. Sent him to a professional who asked the same questions. There was no end to it. He liked the man that asked him the same questions. He wasn’t emotional. He was detached from the situation. But in the end he still asked the same questions, and got the same answers.

    “There must be something other than curiosity that made you do this!” He was told. “All you have to do is tell me what it is, and I will be able to help you!” Once the psychologist had become frustrated he got bored. The questions were yet again emotional, and he was sick of the cycle. He started to feel isolated and alone. The only time she spoke to him was to try and discover what was wrong. Eventually he stopped. His experiment was complete, but the effect was unstoppable. There was celebration for his so called “recovery”, and yet he did not feel happy. Whenever she introduced him to her friends the subject always came up, and he was outcast again.

    He wanted to start it again, but he felt that there was no reason to. He already knew all he wanted to. He already knew that it would not make him more endeared to others. He knew that if he started again then so would the cycle. He became depressed, and he had no outlet for that depression. After all, he had never been very creative. The thing that he was best at was logic. It may not seem very logical to dig a blade into your skin just to satisfy a curiosity, but for him it was the most logical thing in the world. He did not start again. There was no curiosity to satisfy anymore. At least, not with that route. But the curiosity was still there, and he felt that maybe if he satisfied this new curiosity that maybe, just maybe, the loneliness and the sorrow would go away.

    He never liked emotion, and that this should be the first strong ones that he ever felt made him angry. Anger was good. It was new, and thus different. He wanted to feel all of them. See what effects it had on the people around him. Perhaps that was what his curiosity wanted. So he smiled more. The more he smiled the more people talked to him, and the more they talked to him the more bored he felt. All their talk was heavy with emotion, and it bored him.

    “My husband cheated on me with that blonde hussie!” The gossip bored him to. “Did you see so-and-so’s new haircut? I wonder what possessed her to cut it like that!” It was boring and mundane, and it did nothing to satisfy his curiosity. “The weathers been real nice lately.” “Did you see the news?” “How are your children doing?” “I’m thinking of starting a new business.” Utter drivel, and absolutely meaningless to boot. The only meaning he found was that of pure emotion, like pain or desire. He had never felt the desire, but he knew intimately the pain of driving something sharp into his skin and sliding it to make a clean line that oozed blood.

    He was bored. People were boring. There was no point, and he began to wonder if he would feel any thrill if he threw himself off a building or a cliff of some sort. He went bungee jumping and skydiving, but he felt no thrill. She became concerned again. It had not escaped her notice that he had become fascinated with heights, and she was scared for him. She told him this, and yet he felt nothing of the same worry and fear that she did. He was merely fascinated with how something he was doing could evoke such emotions in another. When he asked her she told him that it was because she cared for him. This was boring to him. His fascination with falling did not end, and soon he found himself on the edge of a skyscraper, staring down at the street below.

    He contemplated whether it was worth jumping just to satisfy his curiosity. His life would likely end. There was a very slim chance that he might survive this, though even under the best conditions he didn’t think it was very likely. He stood at the very edge, holding his arms out wide. He heard a gasp behind him, but he didn’t bother to look. He knew who it was. She had never been very sneaky. She pleaded with him, told him that she would get him help. Better help than the last. He knew what she was doing, but it didn’t matter to him. She thought that he wanted to end his life when he was merely curious. He lowered his arms while he listened to her pleas, but he felt no emotion in doing so.

    “Please! Don’t do this! I love you!” He considered these words as he once again raised his arms. Love. What a funny concept. It meant nothing to him. He had never felt it. Well, he hadn’t felt the type of love that she meant. There were no emotions anymore, only curiosity. He let himself fall as a strong gust of wind shoved him forward. He felt something grab his jacket and the force of it halted his forward motion, if only for a second.

    “I’m truly sorry.” He said, just as the jacket slipped off of his arms. He heard a wailing cry as he fell. The wind threw him around as he fell, flipping him, and he saw her face for the last time, streaked with tears as she clutched his jacket to her chest. His heart felt like it was squeezing too tight, and tears slipped from his eyes. When he hit the ground there was just a brief flash of pain, and the overwhelming desire not to die, and then he was gone.
Curiosity Killed the Cat
It started out as a writing exercise, and then it became this.
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    So I've been in quite a writing funk for a while. Gotten bored of things I was working on mostly. It has been a while since I've posted anything story-like, but recently I felt driven to write, and I'm not sure if I want to post it here, So I've decided that I will pitch the concept for the story that I have on my mind and ask for some feed back on whether someone actually wants to read it or not.

    So the concept is basically this; A dystopian future/alternate universe where 'magical' elements were discovered at key points in history. Like when human experimentation was still a thing, and when weapons of mass destruction were being created for the purpose of war, but also during the technology boom. Because of the time periods that these magical elements were discovered in there is a small amount of people with special abilities, due to human experimentation, and a great many weapons run off of the magical energy provided by these elements. (I'm only calling them elements for lack of a better word) Because the government is in possession of the majority of these weapons they become very controlling, and basically evil, because
 "Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Great men are almost always bad men." 
(I will be using that as a rule of thumb when writing how my government functions in my story.) Because the government is corrupt they reinstate human experimentation, or never outlaw it in the first place, and attempt to use these elements to create the perfect soldier to squash any hint of resistance left, which would give them full and unopposed control over their populations. They end up 'terminating' the majority of their experiments, for reasons like failure or going rogue due to unethical procedures, and in doing so discover that the key to unlocking human potential through these elements is in severe trauma. Some of these abilities would include, but would not be limited to, the following: Heightened intelligence, perception, agility strength and being really difficult to injure.
of course, in any good story the upside will come with a downside, so side effects would include, and again not be limited to, the following: constant nightmares, thinned blood(causing an inability to clot properly), an inability to obtain enough nutrients no matter how much you eat, severe depression, bouts of irrational and uncontrollable anger, and general insanity. All these side effects would only be triggered after the ability/power is unlocked, so no one would be able to tell if they have powers until they have gone through a severe trauma themselves.

oh, and one last thing that is probably going to be important; there will be no main protagonist. Any, and most, of the characters will likely be drawn together by circumstance rather than a need to get the protagonist to talk to the people they need to. I have also been working on conditions that would be implemented in farming communities, but that will be for another time.
  • Reading: the dictionary
  • Eating: yogurt w/ cereal

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dacerie

Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
Canada
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:icondoozycutes:
Doozycutes Featured By Owner Jul 10, 2016  Student Digital Artist
You matter.
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:icondacerie:
dacerie Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks. That is a nice thing to say.
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:icondoozycutes:
Doozycutes Featured By Owner Jul 11, 2016  Student Digital Artist
You're welcome :)
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:iconakari-hikari:
Akari-Hikari Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks so much for faving! ^^
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:iconthatartistchick:
ThatArtistChick Featured By Owner Mar 13, 2014  Professional Traditional Artist
Thank you for the +fav ! 
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:iconzimerick:
Zimerick Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Thanks for the fave!
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:iconanikawolf:
AnikaWolf Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the watch <3
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:icondacerie:
dacerie Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
you're welcome!
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:iconlyliann017:
lyliann017 Featured By Owner Sep 26, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
Thanks for the fave :)
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:iconeyrann:
Eyrann Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2013  Student General Artist
Thanks for the fave ! :hug:
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