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So Your Best Friend Is A Werewolf Excerpts by DeadGP So Your Best Friend Is A Werewolf Excerpts :icondeadgp:DeadGP 2 0
Literature
The Last Minute
“This is President Harper,” a dark haired woman states from the flickering screen of a television, “and we are losing this war.”
A group of men and women are crowded around the screen, all of them dressed in dusty, unwashed clothing. Heavy bags plague their eyes, their hands clutch at empty stomachs, and the bunker they’ve called a home for months has grown rank with the smell of desperation. The concrete ceiling above them trembles occasionally after a resounding boom echoes from the earth above. None of them flinch, all except for one child, who stares the screen wide-eyed and clutching an action figure tightly in his hands.
“Our armies fall by the minute,” says President Harper, her expression stoic behind the thin frames of her glasses. “Our cities, by the day.”
A massive roar sounds from the warzone above, followed by an enormous crash. A splinter forms in the thick concrete above, and the bunker’s denizens stare a
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
Flesh And Bone
They took me away at supper time.
A savory affair that I spared no effort in preparing after the several weeks it took me to hunt down the beast that made it. I took my time skinning it, tossing its foul hairy flesh out my window for lesser creatures to feast on. I did the same with the more pungent of its innards, then finally set to removing its meatier parts. The succulent ribs, its limbs taut with delectable muscle, even the tongue and the heart that I would, not without hesitation, save for more special occasions. I sliced what little fat there was away, more treats for the mongrels outside, and just as I set flesh to flame, They arrived.
I remember my door being splintered, cracked, and finally torn down by its hinges. The mob swarmed in, some holding blades and others torches, all of them in a frenzied raucous that made me grit my teeth. Their smell was nothing short of abhorrent, and as they pilfered my pristine kitchen I saw the filth that caked their garments. Feces, mud, swe
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Literature
Delirium - Snap
The classroom thrummed with the sounds of pencils scurrying across paper, incessant fingers tapping on the worn wood of age-old desks, squeaking erasers and hands brushing away their pink residue to the floor. The professor sat behind his paper strewn desk, occasionally rocking back in his old, groaning chair while flipping the pages of whatever paperback he was perusing. Even the tick of the clock on the wall was just loud enough to hear, if one was really listening.
Kira Hozaido was listening.
Her exam remained untouched on her desk, its spaces for answers as blank as her stare. The maddening symphony of her class pounded down on her thoughts. She resisted the urge to relieve herself with a pull at her frizzy dark hair, to chomp down on the fragile skin of her fingertips and peel it off till they poured red, to reach for the matches in her backpack and set fire to her damned desk and. . .
No. She grit her teeth, pulled back the long sleeve of her mauve shirt and looked hungril
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Literature
A Foolish Warrior
The Hero of Time stands before a rickety bridge, its ancient planks swaying ominously above a misty cavern. Across the bridge is a great temple, its darkened doors and rotting, steepled roofs seemingly barren of any life.
Link knows better.
He grips the bridge’s ropes, tests his weight on the first plank. It holds, and he continues on, each further step more careful than the last. He keeps his eyes on the temple, its main door refusing to show any indication that he’s getting closer, while the swirling mist below creeps up alongside his vision, casting phantoms that make the hero twitch from nerves.
He doesn’t know how much time had passes before a deep whisper addresses him from the abyss. “You are clearly a mighty warrior,” it says, its voice rough and arrogant. “Your pointed ears are proof enough of that, boy!” The voice bursts into mad hysterics, and Link ignores it, keeps moving in his cautious gait.
He only stops when the bridge rattles b
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Literature
Fulminated Mercury
Walter White had a plan.
He felt stupid walking up to the lair of a psychotic drug dealer. He felt like an alien walking up the stairs to that dealer's office, the air permeated with the low bass of the latest hip hop craze. He felt scared when the two goons escorting him pushed him into a wall, patted him down, took the bag of crystals he brought from within his jacket.
He felt all these things, the sweat dripping down his armpits, the clamminess taking over his hands, and he ignored them. They were not part of the plan, and they would not get in the way of the plan.
The goons ushered him into the office proper. Tuco, the dealer, sat at his desk, a bald and tattooed runt of a man. He inspected Walter’s crystal on the flat edge of a knife, his eyes unblinking and intense. He placed the crystal down gently, looked to Walter, said, “What’s your name?”
Walter felt sparks arc along every nerve of his body, licked the words around in his mouth before answering simply
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
Chambers Day
Riley Lisi was not ready for Chambers Day.
The fifteen year old sat on a barstool, numbly caressing the sides of an empty glass. Her brother, Ted, was seated next to her. A cigarette smoldered lazily between his fingers, its smoke gently wafting across the counter. His other hand rested on a half-empty bottle of whiskey. Riley sighed.
“Why do we have Chambers Day, Ted?” she said, her eyes focused on her glass. She could see her reflection, her proportions morphed radically in its faded surface. Her eyes were too big, shiny, on the verge of tears she wouldn’t let go of.
Ted took a moment, placed the cigarette in his mouth. “Old man says it’s a testament to this family’s life,” he said, unscrewing the whiskey’s cap. “Every five years, you gotta prove you still have what it takes to keep living it.”
He poured a finger of whiskey into Riley’s glass, took a swig straight from the bottle for himself. The teen grimaced, turned
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
Crush
Jamie Rook had a crush.
He was eating lunch with his older sister, Alexis, in their usual spot next to her locker. She didn’t like chancing someone coming by to graffiti it. They were two years apart in school, but both rarely had any reason to sit with anyone else. Jamie was okay with that.
“You gonna eat that sandwich or what?” Alexis asked, swallowing the last bite of her own.
The thirteen year old barely remembered he was holding one in his hands. It was turkey and cheese, no crust. He turned it around once, slanted his lips, and handed it to her. His mind was too far elsewhere to care for the pit in his stomach.
Alexis snatched it up, took a big bite out of it. “You’re gonna starve, you know,” she said through a mouthful. She chewed a few times, swallowed forcefully. “But I guess that’s why you eat so much dirt playing whompball.”
Jamie nodded vaguely to the beat of his sister’s words, numb to their jabs. He had been star
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
TEN - Chapter Six
Ted Lisi was not in his element.
His left boot was filled with coarse sand, his right had less so but with a rock buried somewhere in it. The trek to the shady jungle he now walked through was plagued by the beating sun, slicking his clothes with a salty layer of sweat. Everything around him seemed to be moving, alive, and possibly threatening his life. He pushed a hand through his wet mop of hair, stopped to say,
“Let’s take a break.”
His boxer companion raised an eyebrow. “I thought I was the one with the wound,” he said, holding his bandaged side. He leaned against a tree, nodded at the gunman. “Take off that jacket, you’ll sweat less like a pig.”
Ted sat down on a rock underneath a merciful patch of shade, setting his backpack down beside himself. “I’ll sweat either way,” he said, and took off his left boot. Sand cascaded out of it, along with several rocks his foot had thankfully no pleasure in meeting. He did the s
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
Day Drinkin'
Ted Lisi was not a good man.
He adjusted his thinly-rimmed glasses, picked up the shot glass in front of him, peered at it with narrowed eyes. His hands were steady, and his vision clear. Three ain’t gonna cut it anymore, he thought, and knocked his poison back. Dull fire spread through his stomach as he set his glass down next to its three empty brothers.
“Day drinkin’s a nasty habit, Teddy,” the bartender, a tough broad named Madeline, said. She scooped up Ted’s glasses, tossed them into a sink. “Ain’t you got nothin’ better to do?”
Ted smirked, rubbed his calloused hands together. “Absolutely not,” he said, breathing in the bar’s stale, smoky air, “but I do have plenty worse to do.”
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Literature
Christmas Exchange
Satan hated Christmas.
No being in the vast underworld he controlled celebrated it, but they all wanted the day off when it came lumbering around like a pine-scented blob of merriment and good will. Ridiculous. The devil leaned back in his plush office chair, steepled his fingers, considered the belligerent god before him and his silly request.
"No," he said, icy blue eyes staring at the bill of Death's baseball cap. "I will not have an employee of the living embodiment of evil take a day off for Christmas."
"Oh, come on," Death said, throwing a flippant gesture toward his boss. "Just have some of your lackeys pull my weight for a day. I've got plans."
Satan furrowed his brow. "Plans?"
Death shrugged. "Merry plans."
The devil placed a hand to his forehead. A candle with a smiley face and the words, Burn me, not employees!, printed into it on his desk suddenly burst into a six inch flame.
Death leaned forward in his chair. "One day," he said, "and then I'm yours. Reaping,
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Literature
EX2R2P2 - Broken Crown
"You lost."
The door to Satan's carriage had just barely closed when he spoke. The words sent lightning crackling across Alex's nerves. A cold sweat set in after as she deftly pulled her hood over her head. "What?" she whispered through a dry mouth.
Satan examined his nails before folding his hands in his lap. "Your opponent reaped Samuel's soul before you," he stated. "You lost."
Alexis looked to the sickly soul sitting beside her. He was slumped in his seat, his eyes closed, his ghostly glow still tarnished and weak. "No," she said, shaking her head. "No, I, we. . ." She licked her lips, gripped her bat tightly when her eyes brightened. "I knocked him out!" she offered. "And then, and then I got the soul, and-"
Satan closed his eyes, held up a hand to silence the teen. She obeyed. "You did not lose," he said coolly, "but only just so."
Alexis narrowed her eyes, screwed up her lips. "Then why the fuck-"
"Because now you know how it will feel if you do lose."
Alex slammed her ba
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
EX2R2P1 - To Darkness
Something was off, and Satan didn't like it.
The devil had a knack for knowing when his affairs were being meddled with; an intuitive sense that buzzed incessantly in his head when it knew things weren't quite in order. He tried his best to ignore it. As helpful as this sense was, it had no place during a massage.
"Lower," Satan said to the scantily clad demoness straddled upon his naked back. Deft hands worked their way over the devil's pale flesh, slowly untying stubborn, ironclad knots of stress that bound his muscles. The masseuses' hands, soft and supple as they were, however, were not able to silence the god's intuition.
With a deep sigh, Satan reached over to the table adjacent to the one he was laid face down on to retrieve his phone. He propped his head on a folded arm and began scrolling along its touch screen.
"Aw," the demoness cooed from his back. She leaned forward, placed her lips close to the devil's ear, whispered, "We still have ten minutes."
The devil slanted his lip
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
EX2R1 - Shadowplay
Death was late.
A darkly dressed woman was standing in front of Nothing's seediest hotel, made even seedier by the bloodied demon laying in front of it. She poked at the tiny hellspawn with the end of her boot, grimaced when it fidgeted around reflexively. Her kind didn't go down so easily.
She took out her phone and looked over her messages for the umpteenth time in the hour she'd spent with a thumb up her ass. He failed, she had sent Death, accompanied with a snapshot of the body at her feet. He replied with, omw. That was an hour ago.
"Must be a long fucking way," the demoness muttered. She denied the urge to chuck her phone across the street and instead slid it back into the pocket of her ratty dark jeans. She replaced it with a packet of Renegade cigarettes, from which she shook one free and held it between ruby lips. The end began smoldering seemingly on its own as she drew in a deep hit.
A loud bang echoed from down the street. Unstartled, the demon lowered her sunglasses to wat
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
THE EXCHANGE 2 MEME
THE EXCHANGE 2: THOU SHALT DIE MEME BY YOUR FRIEND DEADGP
You may answer these questions with your own voice, or go the extra mile and answer them in your characters' voices. Either way, just fill it out and have fun!
1. Why not go ahead and introduce us to your character(s)? I'm sure they're interesting!
2. How, uh. . . interesting! Yeah, that's the word, sure. So why do they want to be a death god? The fame, the fortune, the eternal screams of souls being torn from their fleshy homes, etc.?
3. So I see. Well, only two deities are gonna be able to dole out the divinity! What do your characters think about Satan and Death?
4. How would your audition be different if your character was invited by Satan instead of Death, or vise versa?
5. What would your character do first in the glamorous gulch of debauchery that is the city of Nothing? Hit the bars? Find some ladies of the night? Hit some ladies of the night with a bar?
6. Your character has woken up with a massive hangove
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
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Literature
EX2 - Alexis Rook
--BASICS--
Name: Alexis Rook
Age: Seventeen
Sex: Female
Race: Human
--APPEARANCE--
Height: 5' 5"
Weight: Very light.
Build: Lean and athletic.
Skin: Fairly tan.
Hair: A short mess of black with uneven, choppy ends.
Eyes: Dark blue. Edged around the bottom with the tired circles of too many sleepless nights.
Other defining features: A good chunk of her left ear is missing, something she tries to keep hidden under her hair. Its hearing is impaired somewaht, making everything she hears through it muffled and sometimes indistinguishable.
Clothing: She wears a large black jacket that's ends go down past her waist with the sleeves messily cut down to a manageable length. The zipper on it is broken and there are several hidden pockets sewn on its inner sides, along with a mismatched blue hood sewn to its collar. A pair of faded denim shorts cover her legs and reach down a bit past her knees, and on her torso is a black shirt with the words She Wants Revenge printed on it in faded red c
:iconDeadGP:DeadGP
:icondeadgp:DeadGP 0 0

Favourites

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Literature
Ex III P1: Raise Hell
Satan squinted at Death over steepled fingers. "You can't bring mortals into the Underworld. We've been over this." The god had been in Satan's office far too many times this century, clearly up to something but unwilling to divulge exactly what. Satan would be lying if he said Death hadn't piqued his interest, but he was too busy for curiosity and whatever Death was scheming couldn't be good for his blood pressure.
Death shrugged. "Sure I can. I'll give 'em right back and no one needs to know."
"No, not 'shouldn't.' Can't. They'd be ripped out of existence the minute you tried to bridge the gap."
"You sure 'bout that?" Death leaned forward. "Ever tried?" 
Satan sighed and waved a hand over the stack of files on his desk. "I have far too much paperwork for you to be experimenting, if that's what you're suggesting."
"To start," Death said with a grin. "Gotta test it out before we bring down the big haul."
Satan rolled his eyes. The acrid scent of burning lea
:iconmippins:mippins
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Literature
you dream of birds
Part One
In Which You Dream of Birds
Four nights before your birthday, you dream of birds. There are a thousand of them perched in a great tree, their white wings drooped elegantly down their sides and their feathers trailing behind them like wedding veils. They sing a thousand beautiful songs each night, and you know this because they are singing them to you now. But one of them has no beak, and you know that if you catch it, it will grant you a wish.
When you wake up the sky is like frosted pearls, and you know that you must have a bird.
Part Two
In Which There Are Ants in the Walls
You have no idea why you didn’t think of purchasing a bird before. It is easily the best idea you have ever had. You can hang out with the bird on your shoulder and feed it crackers and teach it foul language and you simply must have a bird.
But there is one small hurdle to leap before you can get one, and that hurdle is your roommate.
Your roommate’s name is Narandal and she is from Mongolia.
:iconBEE-FACTORY:BEE-FACTORY
:iconbee-factory:BEE-FACTORY 3 0
Literature
TEN: Prologue
BIG APPLE, BIG OUTRAGE
All over the nation the recession has truly set in. 1929 this recession began, and only three years later we find the situation getting no better, but worse. Families are on the streets and finding work is hard. Would you believe that previously our unemployment rate was at 13%, and this year we hit 23%? Yesterday there was a four mile long wait outside of a soup kitchen in our own New York City. If you think things were hard before, they’re only getting worse.
The new addition of soup kitchens within our great city can only do so much. Each of our few kitchens can only feed about a thousand people a day, and doing that much is a struggle. Some of the Catholic church kitchens have been producing enough to feed about two thousand to three thousand a day, but this still isn't enough to span even two full meals for a family a day. Who will make up the difference?
President Roosevelt promises a solution is on the horizon, but the over one hundred thousan
:iconmippins:mippins
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Mature content
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Activity


deviantID

DeadGP
it's all a deep end
United States
Current Residence: Everywhere at once.
Favourite genre of music: Rock
Favourite style of art: GOG DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMN
Operating System: One highly stimulated and abused brain.
Shell of choice: The kind without the violent turtle inside.
Wallpaper of choice: Anything that doesn't blind me.
Skin of choice: My own. Boy, who doesn't say that to this section?!
Favourite cartoon character: Master Shake
Personal Quote: WHAT THE ASS
Interests
Since I've made a journal on here. I actually remember thinking last year that there was a distinct possibility that I'd let my journal wallow in dust for a year, and now here we are. Eery.

I'm also on my phone right now because my laptop is currently suffering from not having a charger! Hence my recent absence from chat of you're one of the TOTALLY RAD PEOPLE who frequent that magical land of inebriation and funtimes. I'm going to order a new charger soon, though, so I'll be back to throw words at people in real time soon.

In other, more exciting news, I'm currently in the Exchange 2, which just finished its first round. Unfortunately my opponent forfeited, but it does give me some solace in knowing I'll be moving onto round 2 cause I wanna make it far in this shindig. And, in addition to that, I ALSO want to get into FancyLance's up and coming sexy super hero OCT, Patron, which has totally opened itself for auditions. So if you like '30s era America, superpowers, and being amongst the WRITER ELITE OF DEVIANTART, then you should totally get your butt firmly planted into this tournament.

And that's about it! I've also been working quite a bit, which is why I'm writing this journal in my car as I'm waiting to start my shift today. So yeah, scarcity of myself is unfortunately abundant, but I hope to change that soon. TILL NEXT TIME.
  • Listening to: Greg Laswell
  • Reading: The Maltese Falcon
  • Playing: Darksiders 2
  • Eating: Time
  • Drinking: Caffeine cause work put me back on the wagon

Comments


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:iconmippins:
mippins Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2013  Student Writer
HEY GP HAPPY BIRTHDAY. I HOPE YOU HAD AN EXCELLENT AND WINE-FILLED DAY.

ALSO THE LAST COMMENT ON YOUR PROFILE WAS ALSO ME WISHING YOU HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

:icondamienplz::iconsirplzsir:
Reply
:icondeadgp:
DeadGP Featured By Owner Nov 24, 2013
THANK YOU MIPPS it is also funny that the last comment on here was you telling me the same thing last year xD TIME FLIES
Reply
:iconmippins:
mippins Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2011  Student Writer
GP. HEYYYY GP. GPGPGPGPGPGPGP.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

:iconsirplzsir::iconflynnplz:
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:iconumbrascitor:
Umbrascitor Featured By Owner Nov 5, 2011  Hobbyist General Artist
A :llama: to every TMD competitor! Thanks for coming along.
Reply
:iconeenpaddestoel:
EenPaddestoel Featured By Owner Aug 26, 2011
you are fucking hilarious & i miss you!

that is all.
Reply
:icondeadgp:
DeadGP Featured By Owner Aug 27, 2011
I apologize! It's a shame most of my creative juices have been going toward silly facebook updates rather than actual writing as of late, but I hope to change that eventually.

And also thanks, I'm happy to entertain haha.
Reply
:iconeenpaddestoel:
EenPaddestoel Featured By Owner Sep 2, 2011
not to worry monsieur sillyface! i love your ridiculous facebook updates
Reply
:iconmippins:
mippins Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2011  Student Writer
h-holy shit this is amazing.

MY MIND IS BLOWN.

[link]
Reply
:icondeadgp:
DeadGP Featured By Owner Mar 29, 2011
Ahaha well it's much better than the original in that it has absolutely no trace of her voice in it. MY MIND WAS EQUALLY BLOWN.
Reply
:iconsavari07:
Savari07 Featured By Owner Mar 18, 2011
By the way, man, thanks for watching :iconanachronismoct:!
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