This is the place where you can personalize your profile!
By moving, adding and personalizing widgets.
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"Why," you ask? Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right.
Don't forget, restraints can bring out the creativity in you!
Now go forth and astound us all with your devious profiles!
Two Flies Flew into a Black Sugar Cobweb - by Carach Angren
Oh thank god, daylight! It was a most frightening and dreary night The sun smiles friendly down upon this place It lights a path out of this maze
The forest is now behind them And the city has been found Though their attention gets drawn To a small weather-worn playground
Hungry Thirsty Such an exhausting journey Catching their breaths On a scratched bench Next to a rusty slide Here hangs a filthy stench They hear a squeaking sound And someone suddenly begins to sing
A man dressed up as a clown, singing songs on the swing
His face seems friendly but also kind of sick And... ta-da! He makes their sorrows shortly disappear By performing a magic trick
Oh, children, There is a house built of gingerbread Covered with cakes and a thousand sweets It is mine. Follow me. You will see. You can eat. You'll be warm. You'll be just fine.
He conjures up two candies They look sweet but are somehow tasteless They become drowsy In the back of the car And then they lose their consciousness They lose their consciousness
Children, there is no house built of gingerbread ahead My sweetest lies all lead towards a bitter place instead But one thing I promise you is true No one will ever find you
Cujo in Tad's Closet
Cujo - by Stephen King
Resigned, Tad nodded. Went back to bed. Was tucked in. Accepted kisses.
And as his mother and father went back to the door the fear settled on him again like a cold coat full of mist. Like a shroud stinking of hopeless death. Oh please, he thought, but there was no more, just that: Oh please oh please oh please.
Perhaps his father caught his thought, because Vic turned back, one hand on the light switch, and repeated: "No monsters, Tad."
"No, Daddy," Tad said, because in that instant his father's eyes seemed shadowed and far, as if he needed to be convinced. "No monsters." Except for the one in my closet.
The light snapped off.
"Good night, Tad." His mother's voice trailed back to him lightly, softly, and in his mind he cried out, Be careful, Mommy, they eat the ladies! In all the movies they catch the ladies and carry them off and eat them! Oh please oh please oh please --
But they were gone.
So Tad Trenton, four years old, lay in his bed, all wires and stiff Erector Set braces. He lay with the covers pulled up to his chin and one arm crushing Teddy against his chest, and there was Luke Skywalker on one wall; there was a chipmunk standing on a blender on another wall, grinning cheerily (IF LIFE HANDS YOU LEMONS, MAKE LEMONADE! the cheeky, grinning chipmunk was saying); there was the whole motley Sesame Street crew on a third: Big Bird, Bert, Ernie, Oscar, Grover. Good totems; good magic. But oh the wind outside, screaming over the roof and skating down black gutters! He would sleep no more this night.
But little by little the wires unsnarled themselves and stiff Erector Set muscles relaxed. His mind began to drift.... And then a new screaming, this one closer than the nightwind outside, brought him back to staring wakefulness.
The hinges on the closet door.
That thin sound, so high that perhaps only dogs and small boys awake in the night could have heard it. His closet door swung open slowly and steadily, a dead mouth opening on darkness inch by inch and foot by foot.
The monster was in that darkness. It crouched where it had crouched before. It grinned at him, and its huge shoulders bulked above its cocked head, and its eyes glowed amber, alive with stupid cunning. I told you they'd go away, Tad, it whispered. They always do, in the end. And then I can come back. I like to come back. I like you, Tad. I'll come back every night now, I think, and every night I'll come a little closer to your bed... and a little closer... until one night, before you can scream for them, you'll bear something growling, something growling right beside you, Tad, it'll be me, and I'll pounce, and then I'll eat you and you'll be in me.
Playful Chatter Beast
Chatter Beast (from Hellraiser) playfully chasing a mouse.
Dedicated to the wonderful Cliver Barker and his love for animals.
Gods of Death - Death Note
Gods of Death (Shinigami) from the Anime/Manga Death Note.
Favorite visual artistH.R. Giger, Salvador Dalí, Vincent Castiglia, Zdzisław BeksińskiFavorite moviesAmerican Beauty, Cypher, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Fight Club, The Matrix, Memento, Pulp Fiction, Requiem for a Dream, Silence of the Lambs, UnbreakableFavorite bands / musical artistsBlack Metal, Doom Metal and (some) Death MetalFavorite writersClive Barker, Jim Butcher, Ian Irvine, Stephen KingOther InterestsDark Surrealism, Demons, Computer Technology, Free Thought Philosophy, Life, Mental Exploration, Seeking Balance, Underground Culture
"All horror heals; it opens some wounds and shows you how to close them again."
"What time didn't steal from under your nose, circumstance did. It was useless to hope otherwise, useless to dream that the world somehow meant you good. Everything of value, everything you clung to for your sanity, would rot or be snatched in the long run, and the abyss would gape beneath you [...] and suddenly without so much as a breath of explanation, you were gone. Gone to hell or worse, professions of love and all."
"The horror had been articulated; it was out; its face had been drawn and could be regarded. Now, even if it could not be changed, it could at least be wept over."
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the light into the peace and safety of a new dark age."
"On looking at my green landscapes, I am overcome by a slight nostalgia. The places where I used to play as a child [...] have become invested with a certain magic in my memory. I avoid visiting them as far as possible, for fear of not being able to look at them with the same eyes as I did then, or of finding them altered. Everything seems magical when seen with the eyes of childhood."
"Opening doors, moving in circle. Finding doors, moving in circle. All the choices I once made, the paths that I designed - Have formed this endless labyrinth, a product of my mind. A madman this labyrinth has built."
"I'll never know if it was worth the pain, but I still loved it more than anything in the world - it was my life."
"You're here because you know something. What you know you can't explain, but you feel it. You've felt it your entire life, that there's something wrong with the world. You don't know what it is, but it's there, like a splinter in your mind, driving you mad."
"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it."