Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Deviant Senior Member Joseph Louis Gay-LussacUnknown Groups :iconthewrittenrevolution: theWrittenRevolution
The words are the spark.
Recent Activity
Deviant for 8 Years
Core Member 'til Hell freezes over
Statistics 340 Deviations 31,501 Comments 97,390 Pageviews

Random from DDs I Featured

Literature
The Wraith
Though he had pre-registered months in advance, when he arrived at reception, the conference hosts could not locate his name on their lists, nor was a “John Wraith” lanyard waiting for him to collect. There were, the wraith noticed, other pale faces checking in, slipping between the hearty flesh-and-blood types who wheeled their compact suitcases about the lobby and gabbed brightly. When his turn came to pass his luggage to the porter for stowing while a room was prepared for him, the man at first overlooked him. Then, handing over the string bag in which he’d packed his best shoes, a black brogue slithered out and tumbled to the floor. Apologetically, the wraith picked it up, repacked it, was left holding the bag; the porter had moved on to the next guest.
A brisk air-con in the executive suite kept the delegates alert. The wraith sat silently tapping notes into his iPad and sipping water while the hosts paraded their company’s successes and left little time at
:iconventurus:venturus
:iconventurus:venturus 35 20
Literature
155 days of rain
the doctor asked me if i felt positively
about myself as a person and i bit his hand,
said send me to Seattle
so i can learn what these scars mean.
the rain baptized only my hair: my entire body
stayed dry but i felt like a mermaid,
a drop of sky turned summer soul. years ago,
a boy came to me from Seattle and dug his nails
into my palms to name me crescent moon.
i followed that crooked smile across state borders,
let it lead me to the widest horizon you can imagine.
our love was Thales’ wet dream: all water,
endless ocean to swim and swim and drown in.
i’ve got strong legs and a weak head,
never knew the meaning of almost
until the moon was just a sliver in the sky,
one he didn’t bother calling beautiful anymore.
i’ve been gone for so long i forgot where i was going.
maybe Seattle will reset these broken bones
beset with the incisions of his teeth.
maybe Seattle knows the secrets he does:
same stale breath, same bite marks and tan skin,
same s
:iconlearningtobefree:learningtobefree
:iconlearningtobefree:learningtobefree 84 13
Literature
progress report
the astronauts never returned and neither did the news
in my hands i fold a megalithic pigeon
the take-home message is: the cosmos is a cold dead bitch
as you sleep under magazines, waiting for nothing.
in the shackles of a sterilized den, there's an actual
mastodon heart, pale and glassy pink, icy film
tightened like a fist;  - and the scientists despair:
   it's the morning of the opening,
then the few slashes of paralyzing waves.
like a sign we'd make when we were younger, a way to disarm
a bandit, or a preacher
                or the oncoming horde of space invaders.
but the drawings you sent to venus never returned,
 and now the crack,
          and the scientists at a loss before the angered public.
they release a report that states that the floodgates opened
        by themselves, that the valves erode
like the chalky sand that will swirl and hiss
       
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog
:iconghostinafog:ghostinafog 107 48
bloodlines :icontoxic-nebulae:toxic-nebulae 488 44
Literature
Master Clock
        Tick. Tick. Tick.
        June stared at the alarm clock. She didn’t know where it came from, how it got there. All she knew was that it looked almost exactly like her father’s old one, with a yellowed face and bold, old style numbering.
        It sat on the shelf in the antique shop, and while a thin layer of dust coated everything else, it looked newly cleaned. It seemed out of place in general, she thought, still staring. It was the only mechanical thing in the shop; there were mostly just carvings and furniture.
        Tick. Tick. Tick.
        Maybe it was the owner’s alarm clock, and for some reason they’d forgotten it there, though the yellow sticker with the price—ten dollars and seventy five cents—said otherwise.
      
:iconPorsheee:Porsheee
:iconporsheee:Porsheee 95 88
Literature
look at the mirror and fall in love at first sight
give yourself a flower
and wear your favorite
sweater
sit in a nice, quiet
little coffee shop
and meet yourself
with that first sip
of warmth
and a smile.
in the afternoon,
walk to the nearest park
and hold your hands
together
as if in a prayer
like a lover's dream,
be sweet to yourself
for once.
let the kid with the waffle cone
and his mother
stare at you for 45 seconds
while you feed the birds
hang those insecurities
by the door
or tuck them away
somewhere
in your cabinets
or drawers-
just take them off
today,
pick a hot red dress
and buy yourself
a drink for two
tonight,
mirror at one end
of the table
and your love
at the other.
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins
:iconbrokengod--veins:brokengod--veins 124 80
Literature
Make It Count
It’s fourteen steps from the door to the wall. I’ve been counting for an hour. The guard goes to the door, turns on his heel, then I count:
One. Two. Three.
I can’t hide forever. Either he will divert from his path and discover us or the others he’s with will come back. Regardless, anything changes in this situation and we're done.
Four. Five. Six.
His footfalls are sharp; precise. He’s wearing boots and khaki pants and a black shirt, like he’s trying to be military but not quite making it.
Seven. Eight. Nine.
There’s a whimper and I try not to make a sound of my own. The baby I came to rescue is stirring in the carrier on my lap. I can see his lips twitching, his head beginning to shift. I find the pacifier in the seat and hold it up to his lips. He opens his mouth automatically and takes the offering.
Ten. Eleven. Twelve.
My heart thuds in my chest. Fourteen is the scariest number, because at step number fourteen,
:iconninjababy:ninjababy
:iconninjababy:ninjababy 100 44
Literature
presages de printemps
in the sparkle-sound of rain
I hear your voice
as the day-crows return
bickering
to tangled nests
:iconRetroZombie:RetroZombie
:iconretrozombie:RetroZombie 44 14
Literature
A Story of How a Horde of Elephants Saved My Butt
The problem about wearing a dress is that it gets in the way of everything. The problem about wearing pants is that people yell at you claiming you’re a disgusting witch and should be burned to death before men walk up to you and just shrivel up and die from the sight.
Okay, so the witch thing wasn’t completely wrong. I mean, it’s not even my fault. It’s not like I wanted to have magic powers that just randomly conjure up a hoard of elephants. I mean, having magic powers is cool and all, but not when you live in the late 1600’s and everyone wants to kill you because you’re wearing pants.
And like the worst part about having powers is I literally cannot tell anyone otherwise these brilliant town folk will surely want me burned at the stake. And it’s ridiculous because they’re just shooting people down every hour, claiming “she’s a witch!” just because they don’t know how to take care of their cows and literally they
:iconFieryDownpour479:FieryDownpour479
:iconfierydownpour479:FieryDownpour479 89 61
Literature
Marigold
A woman sat against the garden wall, and in her hands was a bag of hair. The wall, built from decaying bricks and old field stones, extended  fifty feet to the woman's right, where it tapered to a small pile of rubble. There had once been a farmhouse where the garden now was, but the woman never saw it. Bits and pieces of it sometimes turned up in the soil: broken nails and chips of cement. Apart from that, only the wall remained, weather-bleached, woven with vines, sitting at the bottom of a grassy slope. The house that was there now–– the woman's house–– stood at the top of the slope, a yellowish ranch-style hidden from the road by thick pines. The woman had planted the trees herself, when she first moved in fifteen years earlier.
The woman, Carolyn, looked down at the parcel in her hands. The hair in the bag belonged to her son, Mark, and there was a lot of it. He had always worn his hair long, even into adulthood, despite Carolyn's occasional pro
:iconG-R-Fracassa:G-R-Fracassa
:icong-r-fracassa:G-R-Fracassa 45 26
Literature
Plattery Will Get You Nowhere
Mr. and Mrs. Bartle had enjoyed their day out at the Great Exhibition.
They had admired the phonograph that could store an incredible twelve wax cylinders and play them in any order; they had seen the amazing hydraulic hand (which had a slightly unfortunate range of gestures); and they had even made a purchase—a vessel that was kettle, pot and cup combined, and sold already filled to the brim with steaming tea.
And now to finish the day off, they were watching a charming gentleman in one of the booths demonstrating a serving platter.
“...so you see, you wind it up here—” The gentleman placed the platter flat on a table and rotated a handle. “—and then put this lever to ‘on’…”
The platter vibrated into life.
“Now you just have to enter your instructions.” The gentleman indicated the keyboard on the side of the platter. “For example…” His fingers clattered over the keys and there was a ping. The gen
:iconSCFrankles:SCFrankles
:iconscfrankles:SCFrankles 32 37
Literature
The Guardian Wraith of Starlit Smoke
Our sitting here by lantern-light together                
In the thick of a teeming snowfall;
The final golden glow,
Against the ancient sovereignty of night,
Like the last petal off a flower.                        
It is turning three hundred years
He never let the lantern drop.
The illimitable dark and cold and storm,
Whose work is to find out God;
And when they came it seemed with a will  
To carry me with them to death.                                                
                                 
What comes over a man, is it soul or mind-
(The Devil enters like a sapphire wasp)
Twixt what to love and what to hate                  
To find out how to get away from God?
         
No one has seen him stumble looking back                
From having died
Inaudibly in thought;
The sorrow of having been left behind.
         
The land was ours before we were the land's
And having it all made over new                          
From force to matter and back to force,
The alrea
:iconBlacksand459:Blacksand459
:iconblacksand459:Blacksand459 61 31
Literature
Curtain
The rich old man was going to die. Somehow, he knew. It was as if the silk curtains floating in from the summer breeze had whispered this secret into his ear, a billowing angel. Sunlight streamed into the room, lighting the dusty interior with golden rays, but the old man's vision was failing, and he could only see the blurriest of shapes.
“Please,...” he whispered. “Please, someone...”
A figure slipped into the room.
“Oh, good. Good. Please, come sit with me.”
The figure came and sat, guiding a chair to the bedside with precise movements.
“Listen to me, please. I think I'm going to die very soon. I just wanted someone to talk to. I haven't had anyone to talk to for months.” The old man tried to gesture with a sallow, bony arm. “When you're as old as I am, you'll want someone to talk to, too. I've had my to tell for years, but no-one to talk to.”
The figure gazed down at the old man with cold eyes.
“I remember when I was
:iconYouthfulIdealism:YouthfulIdealism
:iconyouthfulidealism:YouthfulIdealism 40 24
Literature
Birds
The birds are watching me.  They stared at me when I left my house, so I went back inside.  They watched me through the windows, so I bolted the curtains shut.  Now they are listening to how my lungs expand and deflate through the cracks and peepholes in the walls and the foundation.  They're trying to tell me something.  I think they want to kill me.
-
They sing now.  The sparrows, the blue jays, the finches, and the cardinals.  They sing me a quiet lullaby as I lie in my bed at night.  Or maybe they're mocking me.  Calling me a coward.  A failure.  My mother always liked birds.  As a child I always thought she spoke to them in a way they understood.  
-
The mail came today.  Normally I would let it sit outside my door and erode and rot in the weather, but something felt different.  The birds were silent.  No nursery rhymes or a-Capella jazz was bleeding through the walls.  No mocking.  No spies.
:iconWhim-N-Wonder:Whim-N-Wonder
:iconwhim-n-wonder:Whim-N-Wonder 70 27
The deviations I featured as a Literature Community Volunteer.

Newest Deviations

Mature content
Ripley's Escape :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 4 4
Literature
Brother
There's a method to missing you, a
step-by-step process on tying
the knots of distance. And I follow the
instructions, twist and tighten until
blistered and bent.
Sometimes, I can feel their pull
as I stretch; it speaks
of your growing up, brother,
of the new things you get excited about
and the new people you tell that to.
And over time these knots
will dry, fossilizing 
into shape; until we wake
one day calloused,
weathered
and estranged.
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 8 8
Literature
Contracts
"Will trade flowers for water" -
we strike a summer deal,
renewable each spring.
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 30 15
Alfred aus dem Schwarzwald :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 4 16
Literature
A Drop Of Your Blood, Please
It's been a year since they found their "humanity", and I made a small fortune off of it.
"I barely escaped it myself. The curtain must have malfunctioned, or I'd have been cut in half."
I press a button, refill his glass; a few weeks ago, a robot would have done that. "I have no trouble believing that. How many are we talking about?"
It seems incredible now, but we loved robots. In a technologically-advanced society, where method and practicality were everything, the idea behind them embodied the essence of the future man. Maybe we underestimated how much they actuallty were like men, though... "Hey, get it together. How. Many." I ask again, a bit pissed off as I stare into my client's sleep-deprived eyes.
Robots were the only measure we had left in our scrambling to save the planet after we pushed it past the point of no return; and thank "god" the referendum on robots didn't end up like the one to fund NASA's space exploration, I thought at first. I don't even kno
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 16 16
Literature
The Celery Murder
A delicious smell hit them as they walked in, making them exchange a look that said "Someone might have died, but god I'm hungry"
In the kitchen, a big saucepan boiled happily over the stove. Clink, clink, clink - its lid went, until Mrs. Potts moved it a little. She was a lovely old lady, the kind that brought her neighbours baked goodies, went to church regularly and made amazing dinners for her husband. 
Yet somehow, the dead body on the sofa with a knife through it disagreed. He was gripping something in his hand, hunched forward in a final bow.
"I'm so sorry, officers. I just couldn't take it anymore!"
Hoyt looked at Mrs. Potts in disbelief. This was a woman who'd give him and Luke candy even when their own mother didn't want her to, she was the sweetest person ever! There was a good reason for all this, surely.
"Mrs. Potts, what happened?"
She stirred the saucepan's contents while she answered, and Luke couldn't help peeking; it looked like sloppy j
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 9 29
Literature
The kitchen trials
Cooking keeps us
from breaking, a
routine recorded and
repeated to make
it memory.
Soft chatting, a
cascade of flour and
words; strawberry
softens and fills up
the cracks, and
the mix actually
turns out well.
I love the crumbly
texture of baked memories:
a soft crunch will
tear them, and
sugarcoat the senses.
They all unknowingly
eat our secrets, and
compliment us too.
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 16 16
Literature
Four-Letter Poems, take two
We sought a permanent recombination,
a final overwriting
of the double helix that defined me,
but I wasn't enough of a geneticist
(nor of a writer) for the
art of four-letter poems.
So we hacked to
pieces my nucleotide
bonds, we attached
and removed strings of
memories from my life's album
as if undecided on what to wear -
but, my love,
we never had any sense of
beauty.  
My chromosomes, carved as a testament
to all of our surgery sessions,
became a festival of restriction
enzymes' reactions, of when
we tore my consciousness'
nucleobases away from their seats
to fit the new occupants
of my old self.
And I see you now, my love,
through truth-telling eyes.
I never was enough of a geneticist
for the art of four-letter poems
and you unmade and
rebuilt me just to
show that you were.
The beauty and wonder of my
nitrogenous base sequences, you
picked your best restriction
enzymes to dismember
it, stating
"We're doing this for you."
You always knew plasmids
never look back,
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 15 38
Memories Journal Skin :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 4 15 A Bed of Red :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 14 13 HT Pixel Bottle - Pixel Challenge :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 2 6
Literature
Middle-Earth
Swathed in mist and fires' smoke,
drums thunder as the last of daylight fades.
Songs of the Ancients drown the whispers
of their women's woolen skirt hems
while the dance builds,
and a moon eclipsed in blood rises
on this summer solstice.
A melodic cauldron is stirred,
with dulcimer strings and fiddler's bow--
the bravado and quickness of their feet
sway bare upon long wooden planks.
Black-winged spirits spin over village roofs,
their calls carrying the hearts and minds
of warriors in the hills,
forging new swords, bathing the blades
in the falls cascading down
toward the rolling emerald valley
where dragons, circling low, anticipate
the feast they know will come tonight.
Starlit eyes stare long at their flight,
yearning, for a journey across the sea
where friends await and darkness is at bay.
And wizards, unaware of night's crawling,
travel swift through ages of magic
to summer nights, when fireworks,
shaped as the shadows of dragons,
are the only sorcery to be seen.
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 8 10
Literature
Howl
THE GIRL
On the porch, she felt safer. The warm light high on the wall, next to the rocking chair that was cradling her seemed to tell her so, with its golden reassurance.
Inside, though...
Imustnotthinkthat, she repeated in her head, pressing her eyelids shut. Daddy will be good, hepromisedhepromised. She'll be all right.
She hugged her legs as a scream and a bark came from inside the house, making her flinch. Daddy?
"Daddy?" she called out, already forgetting that he had asked her not to make noise. The silence extended until she could no longer stand it. She stepped down from the rocking chair and went inside the house, walking slowly, her steps and breath on a single beat.
The living room door swung open, her daddy coming out of it and hurrying to close it back with a gasp once he saw her; he didn't want her to see, even she understood that. He's scared. "Daddy, are you okay?"
He sighed. "Yes, sweetie, I'm fine."
"But - but I heard you scream..."
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 61 61
Winter ID :iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 14 23
Literature
Hunting Pirates
I witnessed the plundering from my safe vantage point, eyes glued to a fancy telescope and neck screaming mercy.
Devotion never stood a chance against them, I have known for a long time: it's the defenses you have that make a difference, not the stubborn utopia that some "god" is going to rise and defend you instead. If I lower the telescope's magnification there they are, weird-shaped ants kicking down doors and putting our livelihood to the torch.
But it doesn't begin like that. It begins on your skin, like when a cool wind blows and you know you'll get goosebumps. Soon enough, the villagers see it for you - "black sails! Black sails coming!" and you choke on your tea. And even if a storm has been gathering in the sea almost like divine protection and a few ships have burst against the rocks like bubbles, you know you are exposed, maybe when those rainclouds will bring an early sunset and a sleepless night, or maybe tomorrow; your heartrate is just a countdown.
And there it is. I've
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 8 9
Literature
Nexus, Haiku Version
Your chest's tide pulls me, a
gravity spell that whispers
of stars, and moonlit secrets.
:iconTheMaidenInBlack:TheMaidenInBlack
:iconthemaideninblack:TheMaidenInBlack 54 52

Webcam

Tell me a thing about you, I'll tell you one about me! 

100%
16 deviants said :eager:

Stamps make me happy.

I even divided these into sections. :dummy:

You Think I Care Stamp by bizarrostamps Rain Stamp by Stamp221 I Heart Purple by webgoddess Stamp: i love blue by flyingdown2011 I Support Silliness Stamp. by miss-strychnine Stamp: Kindness by delusional-dreams I love my TABLET stamp by RRRAI Your Smile... by aternity Violent Stamp by Keiko-Koga :thumb76810001: DA Stamp - Video Games 01 by tppgraphics Hobbit at Heart by eniap .Sleep stamp. by rydi1689 I like trains. by bigfunkychiken

Games:

:thumb39732560: Final Fantasy Stamp by ReverieSummoner :thumb211859039: Bioshock Stamp by Alcamin Ayane Stamp by neobunny Mortal Kombat stamp by Metadream i love tomb raider games by lucianag GTA: Vice City Stamp by NerdXV MGS Fan Stamp by Busiris monster hunter stamp by Xeno-striker Piggy Stamp by Tippy-The-Bunny Albedo Stamp by Mocha-Rush Xenosaga by IceVallejo Tenchu stamp by Llingy

Movies:

joe black stamp by birdie94 Stamp - Iron Hugs by Isilrina voldemort by lauren-lovebites Monster's Inc. Stamp: ... by XxoOjunefoxOoxX Mulan by ThimbleBostitch The Dark Knight-Joker stamp by Deezmo LOTR - Wander by Jenna-Rose

Anime/Manga/Comics:

Spawn Stamp by MR-PHiLL Witchblade Stamp by Notaku Got Geass? - Lelouch Stamp by DGrayAlchemist Orange-kun by cullencrazay NERV Stamp by HeruNoTenchi Absolute Boyfriend Stamp by BanXiao :thumb200051862: Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann by Kurasii Lucky Star Dance Stamp... by Sheepio Maria Holic stamp by Nami-DA Imagination stamp by NamiYami One Piece Strawhats Stamp by Zocho Cute Face L + Stamp Death Note by Ludra-Jenova Exalibur Dance Stamp by AlClair Tieria Erde - Stamp by Misrav G00 Fan Stamp by Nawamane Stamp - Gundam SEED: Lacus 2 by Emiliers

Music:

The Original Trio Stamp by nakashimariku Sigur Ros Stamp by Ko-omote Jonsi Stamp by iamadem Explosions in the Sky Stamp by rynald Sara Bareilles Stamp. by mylittlebluesky Classical music stamp by Tollerka Music Stamp by JetProwerTheFox Porcupine Tree stamp by kurokimashin - I Listen To Post-Rock - by AbXorb Film Score Stamp by rushpoint stamp - Fabrizio De Andre' by pallottili Samuel -Subsonica- stamp by HtB-stamps

Visitors

from my own mind.

I usually don't do this, but it's late enough for me to be exhausted yet unusually active, so have some babbling.
Actually, maybe I do usually do this. Am I getting old for the adolescent journals?

Work has been incredibly stressful on me lately. While I definitely feel valued where I'm at, it's also a job that I landed, more than the job I'd have chosen if I could have chosen - and I find myself struggling with the company ideals (which are in conflict with my own), and with the endless issues that come up every day. I was never good at separating work life and private life, and with the position I currently have, the line becomes blurry as I'm always reachable on my phone - and while it's definitely handy, it leads to people thinking you are always at their disposal, which is incorrect, and sort of disrespectful as it seems to assume I don't have a life of my own.

I think that it would be easier to manage, feelings-wise, if this same situation had taken place in my home country. But here, I feel without a support network of any kind - and it's hard to confide in my friends back in Italy, because as sad as it is, my relationship with them has changed dramatically. We're not as close as we used to be, in every sense of the word. :hmm: they are "best friends" I can't open my heart to anymore when it comes to certain things.

And then there is a thing in my life, with a peculiar orbit of its own; that moves away for a while, as the seasons go, but always eventually comes back. I think the reason why everything has been stressing me more than usual lately is that this feeling made its way back to me, and it won't let go. And while the easy solution is of course "talk about it and get it off your chest"... yeah. ;) not everything can be cured that way, haha.

I need a vacation. Anyone have a couch I can sink in? :P I come with the incredible perk of "watch me as I sleep for 14 hours straight, and then maybe we can do something together."

And last but not least, how are you doing?

Donate

TheMaidenInBlack has started a donation pool!
1,313 / 1,000
This is a donation pool for theWrittenRevolution 's Prompts challenges. :heart:

You must be logged in to donate.
  • :iconandorada:
    Andorada
    Donated Dec 25, 2015, 5:01:21 PM
    100
  • Anonymous
    Anonymous Deviant
    Donated Sep 19, 2015, 1:26:07 PM
    10
  • :iconwyvernletdie:
    WyvernLetDie
    Donated Jul 31, 2015, 5:22:37 AM
    161
  • Anonymous
    Anonymous Deviant
    Donated Jan 4, 2015, 1:05:46 PM
    20
  • :iconiamadem:
    iamadem
    Donated Jan 1, 2015, 12:08:05 AM
    10

deviantID

TheMaidenInBlack
Joseph Louis Gay-Lussac
Your friendly - but a bit of a troll, admittedly - next-door neighbour. I love cookies, gaming, Magic:the Gathering and anime; I love silence, music and nature; I love long walks, being lazy, I love silly things like earrings, jeans and nail polish (and I have tons of them all, beware). I love experimenting with my hair because let's admit it, it always grows back eventually.
I love smiles, cold weather, and I love when my toes are warm next to the fire. I love reading, writing, and improving my English thanks to both of those; I love #thewrittenrevolution and all that it lets me to for the community, I love the happiness it gives me.
I love the friends I have made, and those that I will make tomorrow. I love you.
Interests

Comments


Add a Comment:
 
:icongrisbrouille:
GrisBrouille Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
un petit Llama Hug pour toi :3 
Reply
:icongrisbrouille:
GrisBrouille Featured By Owner Nov 20, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the :+fav: :D
Reply
:iconphoenixleo:
phoenixleo Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2016
:salute: :ahoy:
Reply
:iconhugqueen:
HugQueen Featured By Owner Nov 6, 2016   Writer
MY HEART IS YOURS FOREVER MORE.
Reply
:iconthemaideninblack:
TheMaidenInBlack Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2016
:tighthug: AND MINE YOURS

PLEASE LET'S CATCH UP SOON.
Reply
Add a Comment: