Shop More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Student Premium Member DanielleFemale/Canada Groups :iconsongwritercircle: SongwriterCircle
Write something worth hearing.
Recent Activity
Deviant for 2 Years
3 Month Premium Membership:
Given by LiliWrites
Statistics 446 Deviations 5,808 Comments 18,929 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

:icondonotuseplz::iconmyartplz:

Featured Deviant of the Month


October Feature
N/A



Previously Featured


:iconsaltwaterlungs::iconhopeburnsblue::iconbdancinjones::iconshoeborn::iconsynesthi::iconlittleblueraccoon::iconlissomer:

Using capital letters in dialogue to express shouting: 

37%
14 deviants said Nay.
32%
12 deviants said It depends (comment).
26%
10 deviants said Yea.
5%
2 deviants said :shrug:

Visitors

:iconthe13thwinterking:
The13thWinterKing
Oct 25, 2014
1:13 am
:icondevvonxxx:
devvonxxx
Oct 24, 2014
9:30 pm
:iconbairrug:
BairRug
Oct 24, 2014
7:54 pm
:iconmeggthomas:
MeggThomas
Oct 24, 2014
9:07 am
:iconforever-yours-xo:
forever-yours-xo
Oct 23, 2014
3:39 pm

Daily Deviations and Daily Lit Deviations


Daily Deviations



The Great Race by GuinevereToGwen is "a modern-day quest set in a girls' school: the 'dragon' is armed with a broom and the 'princess' isn't interested in the hero" (suggester's words).

2014-06-14
Prose

( Suggested by SCFrankles and chromeantennae and Featured by neurotype. )


Man Sold Separately by GuinevereToGwen

2013-09-28
Prose

( Featured by Beccalicious. )


Golden Ink and Going Back by GuinevereToGwen "is a wonderful tale of childhood, growing up, and then wishing you could be a child again. Using fairy tales that are well-known, a wonderful story is spun that will take you back to your childhood days of innocence," says the suggester.

2013-01-27
Poetry

( Suggested by MagicalJoey and Featured by thorns. )

Daily Lit Deviations
Daily Lit Recognition



Entropy
suggested by chasingcloudbursts and featured by Naktarra
"This short story is a wonderful representation of the uncertainty of love, using the concept of entropy to tie it all together. The writing is intriguing and the ending is immensely satisfying. You will find yourself smiling uncontrollably at the end of this adorable tale."

2014-09-09
Prose



The Great Race
suggested by LiliWrites and featured by VertigoArt
"A fun, exciting ride. Tightly written, interesting character. I was caught up in Charlie's race from the first stride to the last."

2014-07-21
Prose



The Story of the Bench
suggested by chromeantennae and featured by TwilightPoetess
"This piece is really unique and the dialogue is great. I really, really enjoyed this read."

2014-05-22
Prose



Derailed
suggested by saltwaterlungs and featured by DrippingWords
"At first, the piece might seem cliché, but it quickly disorients the reader well enough to shake away any thought of it being anything but unique."

2013-10-30
Prose



Rescue Team
featured by doodlerTM
"A piece that conveys the frustration of having a co-dependent friend."

2013-09-25
Prose



On a Dark and Stormy Night
suggested by WritersInk and featured by SilverInkblot
"A very cleverly written piece using the first lines in many famous novels."

2013-07-04
Prose



Saving Ladybugs
featured by doodlerTM
"A touching story about ladybugs and loss told through the point-of-view of a child."

2013-02-10
Prose

Projects


Writing Projects


Novels

:bulletgreen: Columbia Uncharted: First draft completed, editing in progress
Word count: 62,093
:bulletgreen: Sunriser (Collaborative novel with NGBookworm97): First draft completed, editing in progress
Word count: 73,101
:bulletgreen: After Florence: 2014 NaNoWriMo novel, outlining in progress
Word count: 0

Project DD-a-Day


Project DD a Day aims to encourage deviants to suggest Daily Deviations. The challenge was to suggest seven DDs in two weeks. The project, which occurred from September 1st to 14th, is now over; however, I plan on organizing a second edition sometime in the future.


:bulletblue: Featured Deviant of the Month :bulletblue:


Every month, I feature a special deviant on my profile page as well as in a journal.

:bulletblue: September 2014
:bulletblue: August 2014
:bulletblue: March 2014
:bulletblue: February 2014
:bulletblue: December 2013
:bulletblue: November 2013
:bulletblue: October 2013
:bulletblue: September 2013

:bulletyellow: Perfect Poetastrophies :bulletyellow:


A series of my favourite off-dA poetry/songs/inspirations.

:bulletyellow: The Wild Hunt by Tallest Man on Earth
:bulletyellow: On the Road (Novel) by Jack Kerouac
:bulletyellow: Next to Normal (Musical) by Tom Kitt and Bryan Yorkey
:bulletyellow: More Lies by Karin Gottshall
:bulletyellow: Home to Roost by Kay Ryan

:bulletorange: Writing Advice :bulletorange:
:bulletpink: Project Educate Articles :bulletpink:


Because I somehow think I'm qualified to give writing advice.

:bulletpink: Musical Theatre: Golden Age and Beyond
:bulletpink: How To Be A Productive Writer
:bulletorange: Switching POV's
:bulletpink: Hook, Line, and Sinker: How to Start Your Story
:bulletpink: Songwriting: The Basics
:bulletorange: I Groan When I Read a Dream Scene
:bulletorange: Relatable Protagonists and Clichés

Stamps


Writing is a talent. by PixieRiotHonored 2 Have Gotten DD Stamp by Mirz123I was featured on DLD by caybeach
I :heart: my ACTIVE watchers by StampsByNeekkoI Quote Shakespeare by impersonalinfoMusic is love by PixieRiot
Books over all by PixieRiotPassion for telling stories by fakadeaSo Many Books by LaPurr
Writer Working Stamp by Mirz123Day Dreamer Stamp by Sora05Fantasy is my Reality stamp by purgatori
Les Miserables by vintage-cowbellsHello, my name is.. by cfryantAtheist Stamp by Kezzi-Rose
Doctor Who Stamp by OatzyNext to Normal by vintage-cowbellsSherlock Stamp by SummerGal7

deviantID

GuinevereToGwen
Danielle
Artist | Student | Literature
Canada

Aspiring novelist, composer-lyricist, sunriser, dreamer, and the biggest poetastrophe you'll ever meet.


I'm currently a student in Canada who dreams of spending the rest of her life writing novels and short stories on a houseboat. Fond of classic literature and musical theatre, I love snowflakes, hot air balloons, and typewriters, although I've never used one and doubt I would enjoy it.

I write short stories, poetry, songs, plays, screenplays, musicals, articles, anything and everything that can be written, I'm writing. My current writing projects include my novel, Columbia Uncharted, a collaborative novel with NGBookworm97, Sunriser, and a one-act musical I'm currently in the process of putting on called The Strangers on the Bus.


Nice Things People Have Said About Me
"Danielle’s gallery is packed full of intriguing and clever pieces to peruse, on her multi-faceted profile. Whether in sharing her novels brimming over with moving tales or reading a touching story or poem from a unique angle, she’s written something for everyone to enjoy."
by LadyLincoln, one of dA's biggest sweethearts

"What I love most about her writing is her character development and her observation/analysis of other human beings...including her honest evaluations of herself and her feelings.
Danielle is one of the most imaginative storytellers I know and, time after time, her writing touches me in some way, whether because I relate to it personally or am simply fascinated by it."
by one of the kindest people I know, hopeburnsblue

"GuinevereToGwen is possibly my best internet buddy. She is just.. wow. She's always trying new things with her writing, and she's always participating in competitions and coming up with new, cool group ideas. She's super nice and her poetry is phenomenal, as is her prose and her stagewriting. She's just all around talented."
by the wonderful saltwaterlungs

"GuinevereToGwen is a sweetheart in every sense of the word. Her work just sweeps you off your feet with her incredible control of literary devices."
by the incredible momo-madness

"You are now a magical writer unicorn."
by my favourite person in the whole world, SilentSails


Favourite plays: Lots of musicals (Les Mis, Next to Normal, Wicked, Chicago, Rent) and anything Shakespeare (my favourites include Much Ado About Nothing, Hamlet, and As You Like It)!
Favourite poets: Allen Ginsberg • Lewis Caroll • Robert Frost
Favourite colour: All of them! Don't make me choose!
How I would like to die: In a swordfight, defending my life. Preferably on the back of a dragon.
Interests

Ten Song Shuffle

Thu Oct 9, 2014, 9:38 PM
Tagged by wildfirepen!

Rules:
  • Put your iPod/phone/diskman/walkman/record player/phonograph/string quartet on shuffle.
  • List the first ten songs that show up.
  1. Young - The Summer Set
  2. Interstate 8 - Modest Mouse
  3. I'm Alive (Reprise) - Next to Normal
  4. King of Anything - Sara Bareilles
  5. I'm Yours - Jason Mraz
  6. The Smell of Rebellion - Matilda the Musical
  7. This Never Happened Before - Bonnie & Clyde The Musical
  8. The Hat - Ingrid Michaelson
  9. Finale - Newsies
  10. Turn It Off - The Book of Mormon
1/2 of the songs are from a musical. That sounds about right. ;)

I don't tag anyone because a bunch of people have already done this so I don't want to retag them. And I'm lazy.


Activity


BIG MYSTERY IN SMALL TOWN

The town of Weathering has recently witnessed some strange events, beginning with the death of Melissa Carter, a local student of Big Bridge High School, that devastated students and teachers alike. Her body was found in the woods east of town, with multiple bruises and cuts on her arms and legs. Her throat had been slashed and her blood drained, making concerned parents wonder, is Weathering still a safe place to call home?

Not only that, but cats and dogs seem to be disappearing from households across town. Their corpses all been found around a week after their disappearance in the same woods in which the police discovered Miss Caster’s body.

“We are still looking into this,” says police chief Allan Sanders. “Our top priority is the safety of our citizens and their children, and we will not stop until the perpetrators—

A hand slashes across the newspaper, crumpling it onto the table. The grease from my pizza seeps into the fine print, turning the previously white paper grey and soggy. I cross my arms and kick my best friend under the table.

“What the hell, dickbrain!” I shout. “I was reading that.”

Jace Sanders adjusts his glasses, stretches his legs out in front of him, and puts his hands behind his head. He grins at me, a wide grin showing too many teeth that makes me want to punch them right out of his mouth. Considering the fact that we’ve known each other since we could kick a soccer ball, it’s surprising the number of times this thought crosses my mind every day.

“Oh, shut up,” he says, his British accent thickening. He never quite lost it in all his years living stateside, although it drifts in and out of his voice. “What’s so interesting in that paper anyway?”

“Um, maybe murder,” I say a bit too loudly. Bob’s Pizza Pocket becomes eerily quiet, and I feel the gaze of every customer drawn to me. I lean forward and nearly whisper, “Do you even know what’s been going on?”

Jace tears off a piece of pizza with his teeth. “I do,” he says from between the pizza in his mouth, “since you haven’t shut up about it all week.”

Wadding up the greasy newspaper, I aim for his head and nearly knock off his glasses. They’re the cool sort, large and square with wide black rims. The glasses paired with his curly hair and plaid shirts give him that cool nerd look, a style girls seem to love. The British accent doesn’t hurt, either.

“Hey!” he cries, wiping the grease from the lens. “Not cool, dude.”

A grin creeps into my mouth just as his cell phone buzzes, making the flimsy table vibrate. Finishing off his pizza, Jace checks the message. His eyebrows flinch almost imperceptibly, although he quickly conceals it with his usual indifferent expression.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“My dad. It’s nothing.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing important.” He scoots out of the booth and stretches, tucking his cell phone into his pocket. “I’ll be right back, and then I should head home. Homework to do.”

Jace Sanders never, ever does homework if he can help it. And when he does, it’s not at—I check my watch—merely nine thirty p.m. It’s in the library the day the paper is due, on which he receives an unwavering A.

As he turns around to leave, I slip the phone out from his back pocket with a steady hand. He doesn’t notice, although he should know better than to leave his pocket unattended with me around. Nimble hands are perhaps my only good trait, and it’s a trait I’ve developed into quite a talent. I would make a mean pickpocket.

The phone asks me for a password, but I don’t need one to see his latest text message. It is indeed labeled “Dad”, and it says, “Don’t leave the house tonight. I’ll be home late.”

A few minutes later, I see Jace sprinting toward the booth like a rabid hyena. He leans over me fuming, and growls, “You took my phone.”

I cross my arms. “You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You think this is nothing?” I hold the phone up to his face. His father is the chief of police, so there must be something going on. He grabs at it, but I pull it away before he comes close to touching it.

“It is.”

“But it might be something.”

“But it’s not. Give it back to me, knobhead.”

When I shrug and slip it back into his pocket, he scowls at me. We gather up our things, paying for our pizza at the counter. Jace his silent, but he never holds a grudge for long. He’ll be back to his old self in no time.

Outside, October is especially aggressive, slapping our faces with wind and burning our necks with a biting cold. I zip up my hoodie and unlock my car, which we dive into to get away from the chilly night. Turning the key, I crank up the heat before backing out of the parking space and pulling into the street.

Weathering is a town of early birds, and it’s already asleep as I drive through its streets. The houses and businesses on the side of the road are all dark; only the streetlamps light the way. Luckily, Jace isn’t paying much attention. His eyes are trained on his cell phone, blindingly bright in the dark car.

The darkness deepens as we distance ourselves from the center of town. It’s almost pitch black when I stop the car and turn off the engine. In the light of his cell phone I see Jace look up and around. He are plunged into darkness as his phone goes to sleep.

“Daryl,” Jace says. “Where the hell are we?”

I kick open the door, and the lights on the inside of the car flick on. They shine out through the door, revealing the trees and their shadows making a wall of forest next to us.

Jace hasn’t moved when I open the trunk. I rummage through my things, through the lone baseballs and rolls of twine and empty grocery bags. Finally, I find my favourite lantern, my trusty companion from my many camping trips, and turn it on. The old batteries struggle but ultimately succeed, and the pool of light widens.

“I’m not leaving this car,” Jace says as I slam the trunk closed.

I make my way around the vehicle and pop open his door. “Really?” I ask. “You’d let your best friend wander out into the woods in the middle of the night—alone?”

He nods decisively.

“And you would stay in this car—by yourself—and run the risk of spending the night in the woods while I take the keys and your only chance of getting home tonight?”

He is silent for a few seconds, then shoves past me. “I really do hate you,” he announces before shutting the door. He can’t see me grinning as we head off into the woods.


“What do you think they’ve found?” I ask as we crunch through the dead leaves. The lantern makes our shadows seem longer, taller, as we traipse past the trees.

“Who? My dad?”

“Yeah. Maybe another body? Maybe some more cats or dogs? Or maybe something else altogether?”

“You’re starting to sound like that boring newspaper you lug around everywhere.”

I shove him, and for a moment he disappears into the shadows. Panic swells up inside me, a tightening in my chest and throat and a shortness of breath, but a second later he rams back into me and is once again visible. We laugh, and I shake off the last of the panic before continuing on.

“What are we even looking for, anyway?” he asks.

The forest is loud around us, filled with hooting owls and scampering squirrels and shuffling leaves. Jace’s eyes sweep up and around, shivering in his leather jacket. I take some sick pleasure in seeing him this uncomfortable. Normally, our roles are reversed, and he’s the suave one while I stutter and shake.

“The police, obviously. Whatever it is they’ve found, they’ll be hovering over it.”

“And what do you expect to do when we find it?”

“Solve the mystery, of course.”

He smacks me upside the head, and I hit him with the lantern. It flickers on and off a few times, but the light persists. The moments of darkness make my skin prickle with excitement. It’s just like that feeling you get in a roller coaster or watching a horror movie. Jace doesn’t seem to enjoy it as much as I do, and that makes the pleasure even more exquisite.

“No matter that the police are looking into all the weird stuff, because Daryl Barnes will figure it all out, won’t he?” Jace says sarcastically. He waves his arms around like a magician, but I know his bravado is only an act. He’s sarcastic when he gets nervous.

I stop in my tracks. A few steps later, he stops as well. “Did you hear that?” I ask.

He shakes his head.

I put the lantern down. “It sounded like…”

“Like what?” He moves toward the lantern, but I’m moving away, turning in circles to find the origin of the sound.

“It sounded like…”

I’m outside the ring of light now, but I can see Jace clearly, standing alone next to the lantern. “Like what?” he shouts, and I see panic fill his eyes. He turns around and shouts through cupped hands, “Daryl! Like what?”

And then I’m tackling him, and he’s screaming and we’re rolling around in the leaves away from the lantern, and I’m laughing because I made Jace Sanders nearly piss his pants. Animals screech around us, the night growing darker as we tumble between the trees. I feel the ground turn into an incline, and I let go of Jace and roll onto my back, still finding enough breath to laugh. I hear Jace crunch as he topples down the hill, and finally all the sounds fade to silence but for my breathing.

It’s suddenly quiet and cold. Shivering, I pick myself up from the forest floor and dust off the leaves clinging to my hoodie. The lantern is still lying there, where I dropped it. It’s flickering again, and I kick it to wake it up.

It shuts off, and I am in darkness. I drop to my knees and fumble for the lantern, my heart beating in my ears. I find the switch and flick it on and off, but nothing happens. Panic swells up into my chest once again, and I breathe harder to loosen my chest.

It doesn’t help.

“Jace?” I call out. Nothing but owls and squirrels, leaves and wind. “Jaaa-aaace!”

Standing up, I rush toward the incline, tripping down the hill until I reach the bottom. I call his name again, running back and forth at the bottom of the hill, hoping, praying to trip over a grumbling, sarcastic Jace who will be scared enough to make my own fear vanish.

But I am alone with my panic.

My eyes adjust to the darkness, and the moon peeks out from behind a cloud, shedding some light on the forest. It only turns the trees to darker shadows, twisting into each other as they rise, turning into roots and snakes and serial killers slithering between the leaves.

“Jace?” I whisper, but it gets caught in my throat. With a burst of fear, my legs wheel my forward, pressing me deeper into the forest. My lungs, my legs, my voice are all controlled by the panic. I scream, I run, I cry, and even though I know in the back of my mind that the whirlwind I’m creating can only hurt my cause, I can’t help it. The trees close in around me, the shadows come to life, and all I can do is scream Jace’s name and sprint through the woods.

Eventually, my shouts mix with a different kind of wail: the wail of police sirens. I turn around in my tracks, my ears guiding me in the right direction. As the sirens grow louder, I glimpse the flashing lights between the trees. I’m breathing hard, but I keep running, knowing that if only I can reach the light, I’ll be safe.

My legs do not possess such knowledge, because just a few feet away from the vehicles—two police cars and an ambulance—I collapse. My stomach lurches, and I feel like I might retch. I breathe hard, my head stuck in the dirt.

The ringing in my ears subsides, and I hear voices through the sirens. I don’t know exactly what they’re saying, but I pick out two words from their speech: Jace Sanders.

My throat closes up, and for a terrifying moment I can’t breathe. I picture Jace, dead, being wheeled on a stretcher into the ambulance. Spiked by adrenaline, I rush to my feet and cross the last few steps into a circle of light surrounded by police officers.

In the center of that circle is Jace, collapsed on the ground. No, not on the ground. On a body. I let out a breath when I see his shaking shoulders, his back heaving up and down with breath, with life. His glasses are broken and tossed to the side, his favourite leather jacket is torn, but he’s alive.

Somehow through the chaos, the voices of the officers reach my ears. “—don’t know what happened,” they say.

“One minute he was standing up—

“—we hear this huge roaring noise, and then we find him like this…”

“—horrible.”

“—feel bad for the son.”

I approach my best friend and drop to my knees. I place a hand on his shoulder and he flinches, but I manage to move him away from the body and uncover its face. It has the same light brown curly hair as Jace, the same blue eyes, but they stare blankly into my own. Lifeless. His neck is torn, blood oozing from the wound and staining my best friend’s plaid shirt as he grabs hold of me and sobs into my shoulder

Allan Sanders. Jace’s father.
Features
72 deviations
Journals
61 deviations

Ten Song Shuffle

Thu Oct 9, 2014, 9:38 PM
Tagged by wildfirepen!

Rules:
  • Put your iPod/phone/diskman/walkman/record player/phonograph/string quartet on shuffle.
  • List the first ten songs that show up.
  1. Young - The Summer Set
  2. Interstate 8 - Modest Mouse
  3. I'm Alive (Reprise) - Next to Normal
  4. King of Anything - Sara Bareilles
  5. I'm Yours - Jason Mraz
  6. The Smell of Rebellion - Matilda the Musical
  7. This Never Happened Before - Bonnie & Clyde The Musical
  8. The Hat - Ingrid Michaelson
  9. Finale - Newsies
  10. Turn It Off - The Book of Mormon
1/2 of the songs are from a musical. That sounds about right. ;)

I don't tag anyone because a bunch of people have already done this so I don't want to retag them. And I'm lazy.


Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: strong language)
Brighton Beach, this is Brighton Beach. Stand clear of the doors. Coney Island-bound Q.

“Fuck you, I’m going back.”

In an empty subway car on a clear Friday morning in Brooklyn, a boy paces back and forth, tugging at the sleeves of his navy blue blazer. He stumbles as the car jolts forward and grabs the pole to steady himself.

His friend cackles from his mostly-motionless seat. A white collar pokes out from his sweater, also navy blue, just like the boys’ pants and tie.

Navy blue, navy blue, Powells we believe in you: the old chant that still rings in the school gym at every game. Powells never loses. Powells is only the best private school in the city.

“I hope you’re happy.” Blazer boy scowls at his companion.

Sweater boy grins like he’s the happiest person alive. Blazer boy scowls some more.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he continues. “‘Screw parents. Screw high school.’ It isn’t that simple.”

Throwing his hands up, he turns to the side, his shiny shoes clicking together as he paces some more.

“There’s Latin,” he says. “We can still make it if we go back now. We can waltz right into class as if nothing happened.”

He twists the other way, and the stale air of the subway car is swirled around, creating a much-needed draft. Sweater boy rolls up his sleeves slowly, methodically, until they are both symmetrical and just at his elbow.

“Or.” Blazer boy runs a hand through his mop of dark hair. “Or, we say ‘screw it’ and don’t look back. And they notice we’re missing. And we fail the class. And high school. And life.”

Sweater boy rubs his hands together and stands up, spreading his legs to keep his balance in the moving car. Blazer boy turns his flushed face toward him.

“I can’t do this,” he stutters. “I’m going back.”

Sweater boy stretches his arm back, and like a spring his hand cuts through the air and slaps the boy in the face. He stumbles back from the force of the slap, nearly tumbling over as the train screeches to a stop.

Ocean Parkway. Please stand clear of the doors.

Sweater boy stands over his friend, who is only barely holding himself up by the pole, a hand held to his reddening cheek, and says, “You’re wrong.”

“Wrong about what?” he spits back, hauling himself up to a standing position. “You don’t think they’ll notice we’re gone? This is Powells we’re talking about.”

Sweater boy’s face darkens as he slips back into his seat. Blazer boy plops down next to him, a handprint becoming visible on his face.

“Oh, they’ll notice you’re missing,” sweater boy says. “The fucking president will make a speech in your honour as he deploys his helicopters to search for the great Jack Dalton.” He rolls his eyes. “Me? They’ll notice I’m missing, and no one will care.”

Blazer boy, a.k.a. Jack Dalton, says nothing. He sits and stares at his reflection in the window as the subway blasts through the tunnel. Both reflections stare back: one with dark, floppy hair and a blazer, and the other with icy blue eyes and a sweater. And neither reflection says a word.

The subway car is silent all through the tunnel. It is silent as they stop at West Eighth Street and the New York Aquarium. It is silent until the conductor’s voice crackles through the silence and the stale air.

Last stop, Coney Island. This is Coney Island.

Sweater boy stands up and extends a hand to Jack, whose gaze wanders up to meet the boy’s eyes. His own are lost and frightened, not at all like the eyes of the grown up he is expected to be.

“Coney Island, my friend,” sweater boy says, his hand floating mid-air. “Are you coming?”

There is a moment of hesitation, and the hand trembles for a second before Jack’s own takes it. His face breaks out into a grin. “Fuck Latin,” he says as sweater boy pulls him to his feet.

As they race out the closing doors of the subway, sweater boy laughs and cries out, “Carpe diem!”
Q Train to Coney Island
Word count: 709

Inspired by the song Q Train to Coney Island (Track 10) by Brad Alexander from the musical See Rock City and Other Destinations. I am seriously obsessed with this song right now. I've been wanting to fictionalize it for a few weeks. Here it is!

I enjoyed inventing a fake preppy private high school for this. What do you guys think? I won't ask for a critique, but some general impressions would be nice. :)
Loading...

Groups

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:iconkitamikichi:
KitaMikichi Featured By Owner 5 days ago  Student General Artist
Thank you for the llama!
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconcooger11:
cooger11 Featured By Owner Oct 9, 2014
Thanx 4 thy llama, rely means alot! :)
Reply
(1 Reply)
:icont-r-crymsen:
t-r-crymsen Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the llama. It means more than a Merriam Webster dictionary.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconsophietapia:
sophietapia Featured By Owner Sep 28, 2014  New member Hobbyist Writer
Thank you muchly for everything :)
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconamazingmle11:
amazingmle11 Featured By Owner Sep 25, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the llama! Here, take a pinapple: :Pineapple la: 
Reply
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: