|Deviant Login||Shop||Join deviantART for FREE||Take the Tour|
A Spark in Chains: 1A Transformers Prime Fan fiction by :iconBaconette:
For those that read my previous series; Deception ( http://baconette.deviantart.com/art/Deception-Part-1-266479593 ) and Going Under ( http://baconette.deviantart.com/art/TFP-Going-Under-Part-1-294146142 ), this is a reboot of the story. I had far too many mistakes and things bothering me so I decided just to scrap the current storyline and begin anew. And I wanted to include Chainbreak in the Second and Third season stuff, which I couldn't do without a reboot. I didn't even manage to properly include her in any 1st season stuff...except for the dark energon shiz.
We will see where this goes. I'm trying to stay true to her character but I'm learning I have issues writing when I don't have complete freedom as I go.
This starts off with Chains coming in during the "Deus Ex Machima" Episode.
Mind over Madness: 1Mind over Madness
Introvert girl (17 years) Sees all characters she interacts with (teachers, fellow classmates, parents, and siblings) as monsters or evil creatures but respects them quietly not wanting to make them angry. Sees animals like people. Her mind even makes the people look like monsters.
Her whole world changes when she meets and strange kind boy her age. He offers to help her up when she had been tripped by a mean girl. She stares at him because he looks normal and not like a monster.
This is just a very strange short story that popped into my head a few weeks ago. Just now had the time to write it down. Here's the first section. I'll be adding more soon enough.
Kira trudged through the thick snow, her soft boots keeping her feet warm. She saved for months to be able to afford the fur covered knee high boots that she wore every day.The thick soles had no problem with the ice, or defending their wearer fro
BEHIND THE SCREEN: Skyrimokay, THE ELDER SCROLLS V: SKRYIM
full name wouldn't fit in the Title.
Okay, granted I have finally gotten the 100+ hours achievement in Skyrim, I'm still finding things out about the game that I like. And some things i don't but still its awesome. ITs a soul sucking game that I love and hate at the same time. I would love to cosplay the Nightengale armour (as Karliah) or even one of the Companions or Houecarls, but i digress, THIS IS A REVIEW HERE...right?...RIGHT!
Open world single player quest game. I own it for the PC on Steam. It has many Nordic culture/ Medieval themes. I personally enjoy the open world games better if they do it well, and Skyrim does it really well.
Dragonborn (that's the player) saves the world. No I'm kidding. You can't REALLL
BEHIND THE SCREEN:Hansel and Gretel: Witch HuntersHonestly right off the back I didn't have very high expectations but it seemed like a cool goth/medieval flick and I enjoy these kinds of films.
And it came through with a totally unexpected and surprisingly detailed storyline.
The characters were cast perfectly. The actor who played Hansel also played as Hawkeye in the Avengers. He did very well, portraying the emotions and details of the character. Gretel was cast excellent as well, but I can't recall any off the top of my head that she was in.
My absolutely favorite part of the movie WAS THE WEAPONS!!
OMIGOSH STEAMPUNK WEAPONS!!! completely out of time period...but they were SOOOOOO cool!! and Gretel's crossbow.... *drools*
Sometimes films like this make me think i was born in the wrong century. I'd have so much fun in that era.
I love the brother-sister interactions and chemistry between them. The writers got the super close relationship without adding some weird sexual element. And Gretel was such a hard-ass, which makes me happy.
By Jessica Bruce
Temperatures plummet, but we blaze on
Our live summit, can’t stay away for long
Your arms belong around me, keeping me warm
I feel at home, sheltered from the storm
Dark was my heart, surrounded my ice,
Until you broke through, and brightened my life
A light filled with such intensity and strength
Taking my faults and healing the breaks
Thinking, thinking, I always try
When our lips meet, my thoughts fly
Your hands, your love, are on my mind
Always wishing I could stop time
Broken was my heart, shattered like glass
Shards painful to touch, haunted by the past
Gathering the shards, my darling fixed the mess
Reminding me of how love works best
Healing my heart, soothing my fears
Removing the scars of all those lonely years
My heart is yours forevermore
Head over heels I’ve fallen for
My Darling, my love, my one and only
I’ll always be here, to keep away the lonely
Warm my heart, feed my inner fire
Red on my face, fed by sweet desire
BEHIND THE SCREEN: Rise of the GuardiansOkay first off. This is a definite MUST SEE!!!! Three Thumbs up, six stars and what not. ITS EPIC. (speaking of which i was there and i know i want to see this movie called "Epic" that is coming out this spring.....oh and Iron Man 3)
I even plan on seeing it again soon (most likely with my boyfriend; he's so sweet)
But alas....review time
So Jack Frost is awesome, and embodies every lost teenager that has ever been, including the fun-loving part. North (Santa) is a sword wielding Russian that brings joy to little children. The tooth fairy is awesome with her collecting of teeth, (trying not to give to many spoilers). The Sandman (he doesn't speak) or Sandy as the Guardians call him is hilarious and funny, and yes he gives dreams to children. The Easter bunny is a huge Australian.....i want to say kangaroo, but its like a cross between a bunny and a Kangaroo, oh and he has boomerangs.
I do believe at one point during the movie North shouts "Bunny, Energize!!" and i definitely want to re
breathe that soul straight down my throatyou are my full-lipped muse
and half-lidded siren
humming a broken chorus
breathing to a metronome
sighing in crescendo
an evangelizer of acoustics
the ministry of instrumentals
I've been baptized
in your anarchist hymns
you've made me a believer
of vinyl and a religion without god
INFINITELY LILITHI am not dead for I cannot die,
once Man thought I could be easily misused,
exiling me to an epilogue no longer remembered
as he blotted out my blush from staining
the Earth's chrysalis rind, if only he knew
that beneath my touch knowledge took root
and pumpkins were hollowed out into shapes
-seedless and skinless-as infinite as the mind.
I am not dead, I cannot die
for I am the memory of primevel bliss,
though blackened my skeleton still exists,
licking the Silence clean so my name can
bite more soundly, a thousand serpents hiss
from my nebula center, welcoming to me
my children who bring the blood that feeds
my dessicated garden, ravenously growing,
I cannot regret for I live too purely to repent
the pushing and prodding of my blossoms to be
known by the timeless exuberance of eons past,
in the Moonlight I move and speak of dark things
not really dead and the light not really blessed
without me being known first, infinitely I say
I am not dead for I cannot die.
I am Lilith.
The Lost Who WanderI find myself
at the feet of a god,
not with expectation,
praying falsely for
of divine intervention,
but out of sheer desperation,
like those who murmur
prayers to St. Jude,
within the darkness
where there is none
over the rocks
with the blind,
not counting how many
along the way,
all to hear enigmatic
from the parched
of a mad woman
with hallucinatory visions
living in a cave
which sweeps over me
in waves of nausea.
I martyr myself
for your pain,
and grieve unaccountably
for your loss,
it seers through me,
like St. Sebastian
I find myself penetrated
full of holes, bearing the marks
of a guilt which should
never have been my own.
But that dose not entirely
absolve me, there is
no escape from my own
all I can do is watch you
and wait for dead prayers
to be answered
by the indifferent
sages who devour
our fates making
bets as they attempt
In the WoodsIn the woods my spirit wanders
it goes where now my feet shall follow
the trees, they speak with silent tongues
where wind will pass through every branch
my eyes alight with newfound life
I know this is my lasting home
the ground beneath receives me warmly
soft-spun soil has kissed my feet
the air around has touched me deeply
soaking in my every pore
the birds are singing in the trees
with peeping frogs drawn up and down
the waters of the streams are murm’ring
the distance now is not so far
and what is near is father still
the world it breathes in through the roots
where my soul is rising to
digging deep in untold heights
my spirit wanders with the breeze
here is where my people lived
where they fought and drank and built and died
the forest is our endless home
whence our finest tribes did hail
fare we well to come back home now
to bring soft flesh to bare
bear it out along the way
softest skin on rough hewn bark
the palm may breathe in with the wood
and out the lungs give a cath
UntitledToday, Father, we need Your aid
For in the in the present, battles rage
With Your guidance, victory will be made
And Your praise will be sung from age to age
at the endisthmus tossed over the edge
wipes the bull's back
in the odourless sun
the tiger could rest
could perhaps be crossed
the temple is marble,
white and final
the boy stands up
Memories of Days of Peace to ComeMemories of Days of Peace to Come
Midnight, silence echoes through the void;
A sight once seen, the earth ever recalls.
In wordless wait, time comes to an end;
A tale of anguish, by curse and decay,
To be cleansed by the coming of a King.
Heat goes away as all things perish;
Universe being poured out unto death,
Longing for the hour of redemption,
Whence the high price of man's sin is paid,
Foretold since the old days of the fall.
Mountains weep with great tears from the heights;
Magma blood erupts through earthbound pores;
Pressure tightens the core in the deep.
Humble, the moon comforts grounded cries;
Thrice the quakes submit to divine will.
All of nature stands tortured and shamed
By the bloody hands of foul mankind;
Murderous, desecrating the holy.
The deep growl of God's wrath reverberates
Like judgement on atoning innocence.
Starlight pierces the black of the night;
Words of white tell their ancient witness.
The firmament bleeds its precious glow;
Holy brilliance she
Chakrathe Tree of Life is in your hands
the winding of your veins
up and down and through your arms
it ends up in your heart
pulsing Blood is your own story
a tale that’s told in cells
shrinking down in four dimensions
hidden by old Mimir’s holt
on and on into obscurity
hidden by the Veil of Maja
you are a piece of eternity
your final end is God
THAT PAIN YOU FEELThat pain you feel is muscle building,
destruction of the worn away pieces.
Staircases being built while you work away,
signs saying "Construction: please use detour".
Walking partially on the backs of past foremen,
who built their own homes and left behind the blueprints.
The world can't show restraint in its assault,
but the paths have been cut for those who would spit in the eyes of gods.
Look down at yourself now,
That six pack didn't grow itself.
The Pen's JourneyThe Pen's Journey
~J. Bruce 2/27/12
The paper, blank, starched, and crisp
Rests on the desk
Portraying its unending emptiness
The pen lies full of ink on its side
Waiting for the hand to make the words rise
From the depths of imagination
Within the mind of the creator
Such a powerful force, such
Majestic eloquence that could flow down the pen and onto the
A dark suspicious force holds
Back the enlightening creativity
It stops imagination, halts
The pen presses on
Through all the muck and mud
The pen presses on
Through the bright flight of the mind,
The pen presses on
IowaIf you visit Iowa,
you'll call her fields empty,
but she wasn't born that way.
A part of her was carved out
when she was ripped between Virginia
and the purple mountains of New Mexico.
Her gold hair, she tore it out when she realized
it didn't make her a princess.
She laid her locks strung along every road
leading somewhere else.
White hairs on her cheeks
are scars from winter.
Her hair darkens with the dampness
of summer rains.
The storms are never silent,
but neither is life when there's a tear
in your childhood where
a parent ought to be.
I've been flooded by Iowa's sorrow.
The only way I can distract her from her own voided landscape
is if I hate myself harder than she cries.
She just wants to fly
and I want to bus or train,
not because I fear death, but because
I want to take living slow.
It's the only way I ever feel.
From the air it's hard to watch Earth's hips move.
But Earth can't compare to the country.
That's my girl.
Full grown even when harvesting season's j
To depression, for creating days without endWake up to the realization that you've been awake
for seconds, minutes, hours.
You've been awake in this warm, dark room
and you don't know how long it's been
but now you're conscious
and it starts again--
the pain, strong and steady, in your chest.
You gain consciousness in this too warm morning
and your thoughts whir in endless loops
because it's either that or face the weight in your chest.
Light breaks though the window, soft and unwelcome
but you take it as a reluctant gift--
a new distraction from the feelings awake in your chest.
Awake, but not conscious.
So you think yourself in circles a little while longer
waiting for those quiet pains
(the constant reminder)
to gain consciousness.
Keep in Touch!
scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More