|Very High End Special Group.|
This is a very special group. This group is not about member numbers of having high numbers. It is a rare special group of true artist who have talent and dedicated to their art form. We do not want high ratios of account members. We want true dark or macabre artists. If you are in here, its because your soul belongs here. Fakes or those looking for just exposure for FAVS will eventually be sifted out.
Death Is Love.
Rules For The Group.
Your art piece must be of the fantasy, dark or macabre form. Which depict light dark topics or heavy topics of the darker expression.
We accept art from all area's, such as traditional, photography, 3d, digital, manipulations, ect. As long as it's dark.
Adult content is acceptable in our group, as long as your deviation follows the conduct and guideline rules that DA has set up for your deviation. There must be a mature tag on all mature material submitted to the group. If there is no mature tag put on adult content submitted, it will be deleted without notice.
Members are permitted to submit up to 1 deviation per day. This amount of submission we find to be acceptable, so that the group does not get constantly flooded. This gives deviations time to be viewed.
When submitting your deviation, you must submit your work to the appropriate gallery folder. If you submit your work to the wrong folder, or to the featured section, it will be denied. You may be permitted to resubmit your work, as long as it's to the correct folder.
|The Featured Section Is Reserved For The Featured Artist Exhibit. This Featured Spot Is Where We Acknowledge And Showcase An Artist Of This Group and their Work For Its Beauty, And For The Art Piece Originality. Every Member Of The Group Will Get A Chance To Have Their Work Featured In Time. This Ensures Equality Within The Group. The Founder Will Decide Who And When A Piece Will Be Featured.|
Thoughts of a WitchI lie huddled in the corner of my dungeon cell. It is dark, it is cold; the air is moist and stinks. Pale light pours though a small barred window. I am alone. The straw on the floor stabs into my naked feet. The dirty sackcloth robe scratches at my bloody, abused and bruised skin. Everything hurts and throbs with numb pain. I know I will die soon.Thoughts of a Witch by witch1978
I have confessed under the torture. I knew that it would seal my fate, but I could not stand the pain any more. I shiver and tremble as the memories of the unspeakable things they had done to me come back: Their cold hands and fingers touching my body everywhere in search for the mark. As they did not find anything to prove my guilt, they had started to hurt me for a confession. They stab needles in my birthmarks, beat me with sticks and the whip. What followed was the torment on the rack, tearing and stretching my fragile body until I passed out from the pain. The chair with its sharp metal spikes, the screws that crushed my fingers and toe
Kidnapped on hike trip to the CongoKidnapped on hike trip to the Congo by vicmoran
A first try at writing with an idea of creating a story based around some photos me and some friends made some time ago.The photos of the big African carrying me are from the fight I had with big John Tinubu.Laura looks cool as a backpacking tourist and big John Tinubu looks the part as the tough kidnapper as he is a good heavy weight boxer in his spare time.Very short outline story here!So much more to be added on the before arriving in the Congo part and maybe alternative endings but its an on going thing and hopefully one day it will have a full story.
PHOTOS POSED AND MADE BY ME AND 3 FRIENDS ONE MAD WEEKEND
Early March 1988 Victor Johnson and his girlfriend Laura Taylor from Queensland Australia went out back packing/hiking in the east Ituri forest region
Plague of PessimismI feel like a plague of pessimism.Plague of Pessimism by ChaoticGoddess
I don't brighten up rooms;
I am the impending or inevitable journey of Bad Lands and burnt out electricity. Somehow I manage to gain control over human conversation due to the fact that I cannot even keep up with myself therefore I delve subconsciously into mad ramblings or rants.
I am suspicious of everyone and situations all around.
I have all this potential, I am special, I am full of wonderful things.
Only everything about me is diseased, distorted in some sense.
A product of my conditioning is what I call it.
I think one of the most romantic fantasies I have is committing suicide or simply my funeral.
This is when I envision myself beautiful always in some shade of white gown or slip.
I am just lying there with my eyes closed, so lovely, so peaceful.
It may be in a bed, on a floor, or even water.
This makes me no longer a burden or dreaded.
Absolutely no one understands this.
No one does.
Not even the people who try the hardest or care the most.