It's a tricky business. You have to find a piece you're passionate about. You have to make a case that's convincing, but not begging or posh-sounding. I have had a few bursts of luck- 4 accepted suggestions, but the good bulk of my suggestions don't make it.
I realize that the GM have to make some tough choices. But I want to give my suggestions another chance, in case it was something on my end that was why they declined them.
And I still felt they deserved a feature.
As a note, a few pieces this time are not eligible for DDs because the artist received a DD on a different piece after I suggested it.They'll have *s. Some of these pieces are also pending suggestions, but if a GM sees multiple suggestions of the same piece, I think it ups the chances!
So, without further ado, the Almost DDs, Volume 6!Please show these artists some love, and if you really love a piece, suggest it as a DD!
Your AdventureOne day -- you won't even notice at first -- one day you will have an adventure. It will start on a dark and stormy night. Or it might start on a sunny Saturday afternoon; or maybe even in that strange time that isn't quite morning and isn't quite night, when the sky goes green before turning to the classic pink and blue of sunrise.
You will be standing on a streetcorner -- Or in a cornfield, or in an office cubicle -- and there will be one singular event that changes your life forever.
You will talk to a woman in an urban alleyway; she will be wearing ragged clothes, her hair a tangled, unwashed mess, and she will smell of piss and sweat and something nearly classifiable as magic. She will tell you amazing stories (true stories) and you will not believe a word she says.
You will meet a man in a coffeeshop; he will be wearing a pinstripe suit and a navy blue tie, his hair a recently trimmed deep brown, and he will smell of ink and expensive cologne and confidence. He will tell you abou
She is a girl of beauty. Tall, slim, soft features. This is the first thing that I notice. From her flawless, creamy skin, to her thick dark hair, rolling down her body in perfect waves. I sit, I watch. She sits, she smiles. But not at me, oh no. She doesn't even know I'm here, watching her in this crowded cafe. She is speaking to a man in a boring grey suit with salt and pepper hair. He too, has noticed her good looks. She knows it. I can tell by the way she leans in to him, the way she lets her skirt ride up her thigh as she crosses her legs. She flips her hair over her shoulder, flashing just enough skin to really get him interested. She has him.
The night moves slowly. Too slow for my liking. He says something funny, and she laughs just a little bit too hard. But I know his type. Rich, lonely. Lost in his nostalgia for his younger days. When an attractive woman seems interested in him, he jumps at the chance. Fool. He cannot see her hunger for wealth. He cannot see her sin.
Knife, Fork, SpoonHELLO, blared the Fork, loud as ever,*
declaring himself in capital letters,
HOW ARE YOU?
Quite well, said the knife, forever demure
The spoon was moody and silent,
then Silent and Moody.
(Things hadn't worked out with the Dish.)
WELL, WELL, cried the Fork (as the top drawer slid open),
WHO HAVE WE HERE?
It turned out to be a Potato Peeler.
Inwardly, the knife was outraged.
After all, she and the Peeler both had blades.
When the spoon suggested,
"Perhaps you are cousins,"
The Fork CHORTLED.
The knife frowned.
But she needn't have been so jealous!
When Dinner-Time came
(that daily ordeal that left poor spoon
so thoroughly awkward),
the Peeler remained in the drawer on the desk.
In fact, the next glimpse of sunlight was:
3 months later,
when the Man decided to 'cook'.
(The Peeler met with the Grater.
They prepared boiled potatoes
garnished with lemons.)
LitterbugI fought for piano keys
And I threw myself away
Into empty glass bottles
I found that I soon became
Littering the holy ground
Above the bodies
In the cemetery
I am not biodegradable
I will never exist
acquisition of mother's pearlsmy inheritance
still gasping for breath
since my entrance from your womb
quivering bones that quake like thunder
a caffeine drip wired through my fragile capillaries
pounding cardiac fault, chasing like a jackrabbit
tally each beat like an armageddon clock
i saw you walk on a needle wire
i followed you with bleeding feet
thank you mother
for your loving gift
wrapped in my pale pitted skin
Rain doesn't fall like it didI'm not sorry
for the words I hurled at your feet
couldn't drag yourself
out of insanity long enough
to hold me
there were times when
you asked me to sing
so my beauty could grace your ears
as well as your eyes
So I sang
I sang of the patter of your lips
on my cracked skin
- it's not a sin if I love you.
but then the birds, they joined in
without knowing the words
Just made me look cheap.
I remember the day
you stood at the edge of my mind
and you (or maybe I)
decided that falling from that height
That first time, you left me breathless
as you breathed deep
with your soft gasping, you left me
unable to speak
just opening and closing my mouth - thinking
things don't get any better than this
I still curse those birds when I think of what I lost.
I tripped into love like a brick wall
but, I got back up and
told it that hitting was against the rules
as you pointed out my lip was bleeding
I thought that was rude.
I miss the way you squint at the horizon
paradoxwhite after white, dash, dash, dashing along,
over top black pathways that burn under the midday sun,
pulling me towards the opposite effect
where four walls haven't contained still images needing motion,
puzzle pieces curve into each other,
matching in ways the makers never told,
forming perfect fits of emotions gone awry.
i won't exist in solidarity, nor you.
and we'll not be a single thing, nor two.
we let our worries gowe let them go
on the neck of fall,
because they worried us -
shaken cans on fishing lines
over streams gone hoarse from summer -
instead, we took up a pelt of
black and ochre,
from crawling the caterpillar husks
finding a city of water skin echoes,
a handbag of skies
ready to be kicked open -
and in the sound
of leaves crunching
we let them go,
clipped our hopes
to a jacket of skyscrapers
flinging their arms back
and waited for a comb of bees
to swarm up into a smile
Here's the FAQ for suggesting DDs, along with a list of Mods to suggest to:help.deviantart.com/18/
If you're looking for more Deviations to suggest as DDs, I'd go to these fantastic groups:
And, there's more Almost DD articles: