Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Varied / Student Premium Member Ace Kenshader Groups :iconthe-bsc: The-BSC
Bureau of Supportive Criticism
Recent Activity
Deviant for 9 Years
12 Month Premium Membership
Statistics 98 Deviations 6,388 Comments 35,704 Pageviews

Newest Deviations

This is basically a small gallery I'm still working on ^^; Since I'm a writer, probably the majority of it will be my story "The Calibre Key", giftie stories I'm working on for others, stories of my character Ace's adventures, Original stories that are for kids and/or adults, and who knows:) I may also submit other stuff, like game reviews I do, art from school.



Spritework 03 - Lucifer Selaz by ArcheKruz

This is most certainly one of the best looking sprites I have ever seen in terms of visual appeal and the exquisite details put into it...

BBB - Alvin and the Chipmunks 2 by EuJoyuen

Considering that I have watched the Squeakuel, I'm the first to say I can understand why they are attached to a rocket and are about to...

Gott by utria
by utria

Oh wow utria, this is really quite a remarkable pic you did, doing artwork with Flash in the kind of style is not that easy to do for t...

by Arekins

I have to say; this is some pretty good work you did Arekins :). The colouring for the kitty cat is lovely is really well done, it is do...

Behemoths Attack by CJShadorunner

I have to say Chris; as I have helped you developed Aeris and the Behemoth's, this pic really shows the brute force and sheer size of t...

Well since you have asked me to critique this Marie, I'll gladly do so. Anyways, I'm very much quite pleased with the colouring techniq...

Yes; I do critiques to :B


Jul 25, 2015
6:26 am
Jul 23, 2015
11:05 pm
Jul 22, 2015
1:39 pm
Jul 21, 2015
4:22 pm
Jul 19, 2015
8:58 pm

Stamps that basically tells about me


Mature Content

or, enter your birth date.



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
I guess you can say that my childhood was full of miseries and misfortune, living in the poorest corners of New York City with just yourself to trust. Parents died in a robbery gone awry when I was merely six. So I was sent to a foster home for girls where the owners and workers basically treated us like they treated the customers at a fast-food joint: you don’t really care about them, but you have to serve them, and sometimes we give them a tip in the form of them forcing sex upon us. Safe to say that the indifference and sexual abuse allowed me to grow up into being a troublemaker where I had frequent skirmishes with the police and get a responsive punishment from the adults for the simple reason I am making them look like they are doing horrible jobs. I didn’t care. They hated me anyway, just prefer to bang me, and knowing that the people merely adopt foster children up to three years old, it’s not as if I was destroying any chances of getting adopted since I'm seventeen.  
One day though, Mrs. Babcock, one of the owners of the foster home, announced that me and four other girls of similar age were told to meet in the living room, someone wants to adopt an adolescent girl. Well color me shocked, someone wants to adopt a teenager who’ll likely be a pain in the ass? That sure got the attention of everyone as the five of us gathered in the living room to meet a potential foster mom. The woman looked to be no older than in her mid-sixties, wearing attire underneath a fur coat that made one think she’s going to walk the red carpet with the most noticeable thing about her attire though is her evening gloves; crimson red velvet silk in a jewelry decal, and her long silver grey hair bundled up in a bun. “Pleasure to meet you, darlings,” the woman announced, sporting a slight accent that made me think she’s from some European country. “I’m Sylvia Arlauskas, and I am here to take on of you lucky girls under my wing.”
“What is the catch?” A girl I know as Joan asked, rather suspicious of this whole scenario. I can understand her skepticism, why would someone who looks like an aristocrat wants to adopt us?
“You better shut your mouth,” one of the workers, a fat bastard we nicknamed Lard that loves sexually fondling with the girls. “Ms. Arlauskas has been helping troubled girls like you for over ten years now. You should be thankful to someone with so much clout is going to adopt one of you freeloaders.” Oh Lard, I certainly won’t miss you.
“Oh it’s quite alright Mr. Samuels,” the woman laughed. There was something about this person… It’s hard to describe it, but her presence has been making me uncontrollably respect her and obedient, as if my brain thinks of her as some sort of Saint.
As Ms. Arlauskas inspected every single girl, my heart thumped rapidly and palms started to sweat. What is wrong with me? I don’t even know this woman, and yet I want to be adopted by her. When she approaches me, she inspected every part of me like she did with the others; checking my hair, looking at my arms and legs, the works. I looked at her straight in the eyes; they were as blue as the open sky with a glossy finish, but soulless and dead. She can sense my body is anxious, and can smell my fear; I just know it. I looked around and see that the other girls had a similar experience when she inspected them, their palms were also sweating, and they fidgeted. What does this lady have that can make us melt into her hands? When she finished inspecting me, she asked. “What is your name young girl?”
“Robin,” I sputtered my name out. “My name is Robin Noel.”
She just simply nodded, and replied. “You would certainly be the first Negro that would be under my wing of guidance, get this girl’s stuff and put it into my limo.” I honestly don’t know whether I should be super happy that she chose me, or be boiling mad to the point I wanted to punch her for calling me that- even though didn’t make me go unruly; my body was being completely obedient. I suspected that she may have been oblivious, because immediately afterwards, she apologized. “Oh I am deeply sorry; it slipped my mind how much negativity that word has in America.”
I let it go and simply accepted her apology; better to do that then to raise a fuss and get a beating by Mr. Samuels, being taken away from my hellhole into a seemingly luxurious paradise of Arlauska’s swanky residences. As the weeks passed by, and she groomed me into being a “Proper” girl, we exchanged information about our pasts in an effort to understand each other, as she put it. To be short; Miss Arlauskas is a famous fashion designer that comes from a very rich and powerful family in Lithuania that was forced to leave their homeland due to the Soviet occupation during the 2nd World War, so her family was granted asylum in the United States.
Something has been bothering me about my “Step-mother” and this place though; in all the time I spent with her, not once have I seen her without those red evening gloves. And every time I go to her sewing room (which I suspect is where all her designs, materials and equipment are), I get a verbal lashing and be threatened with a permanent trip back to the foster home.
However, that’s nothing; periodically, I would often hear her in the middle of the night walking and talking to herself when I was supposed to be sleeping (one of her rules is once its 11pm I am supposed to stay in my room for bed time). So a couple of times I sneak a peek into the living room to find Miss Arlauska’s, in a wig similar to my hair, completely covered in some black powder, and wearing the same clothes as me, walking encircling with mirrors surrounding her to have a good view of herself, holding a book with the cover who portrays some person with horns. My immediate reaction was to be extremely mad that she’d be walking around in a dark face; at the same time, in all honesty, I was more afraid then angry. It’s not that she’s just dressed up in a black face; she dressed up to look like me in every detail (save for her biological appearance) as if this was a role-play session. Nevertheless, despite the oddities about her; I have started to admire her greatly, even come to think of her as my actual mom. I started to call her by her first name, though that was at her urging since “Miss Arlauskas” made her feel older than she already is, whatever that means.
One day, she called me for a surprise gift; knowing that it might be something related to clothing, I wasn’t in much of a rush to come downstairs to meet her. When I got into the living room, there was Sylvia, sitting on the couch with a rather fancy looking present sitting on her lap. "Finally, you have arrived Robin,” she said with a powerful laugh. “For a moment, I thought you tripped on the stairs and broke your legs.”
I forcefully made myself laugh at the joke and sat down on the couch. “What did you wanted to see me for?”
“I believe it is time to give you a present, a special kind of present as I believe you are ready for it.” Now this got me curious; when she handed it to me, I just ripped off the wrappings and opened the box. The present was really exquisite, a pair of orange velvet silk shoes decked out in a jewelry decal like Sylvia’s gloves. I was so entranced by these shoes; they were nothing like I had ever seen before, almost like they are made by a goddess with the finest silk known to man. “Hand crafted by yours truly.” She said, showing a sincere and gentle smile, looking at the shoes, and then my feet, subtly suggesting that I should put them on. However, I was still looking at them in such awe and inspecting them. The silk feels new enough that I almost thought it was freshly made from some cocoons she may have stashed somewhere in the residences. After a while, I hear her yelling. “Just hurry up and put them on you little brat!”
It was surprised by her reaction, and nearly made me drop the shoes. When I looked at Sylvia’s face, she was honestly flustered and red on the face, glaring at me straight into the eyes with such focus. I felt afraid for a moment, so I did as she told and took off my regular sneakers, so that I can slip on the silk shoes and the black stockings that came with the shoes. The feeling I had when I got into them was something that can’t be put into words; the feeling that all the stars aligned, and I were at the center of the universe. And the silk felt like so incredible on my toes. I have felt the fabric before, but it can’t compare to this. These shoes were made for me; I just know it. “These shoes' absolutely amazing Sylvia,” I squealed with excitement, tapping my heels together. “Even my feet don’t want me to take them off!”
She smiled at me, “I am so happy to hear that,” she said. In all of my excitement though, I did think it was odd that she would go through all the trouble to make these pairs of shoes for me… Come to think of it. It's only been three months since she adopted me, how did she make them in the first place? Granted three months is plenty of time, but she spends a huge chunk of her time working on new designs for customers, and hanging out at parties with some very influential people. There’s no way she would have had enough time to have the inspiration, then focus her efforts on the crafting (especially with the jewelry; I imagine it must have taken weeks for her to add those suckers). “Now these shoes are able to last a lifetime, so I’ve taken the measures to get rid of all your other shoes.”
No alarm bells were raised, despite how obviously odd her actions were. I was just so in love with the shoes that I never want to take them off me feet.
They are exactly what I want.
Just… Perfect.
Every day now, every minute I have been wearing these shoes, I feel like they are a part of me, and I get anxious whenever I try to separate myself from them. And when I walk outside, people often look at me with admiration and want to stay close to me as possible as if I were the queen bee. Even so, I know better. They don’t care about me. They only reason they are paying attention is because of the shoes, but I couldn’t blame them. I would be gawking if someone like me were to pass by. Lately though I have noticed that it was getting harder to take the shoes off when I don’t need to wear; my legs would start to ache every time they were separated so I just decided to wear the shoes all the time. It may sound weird but in all honesty, they are quite comfortable, even when taking the shower and sleeping, I barely notice them at all. I also started to hear voices as I walk around the city, with the voices' speaking in some language, I can’t understand. I figured it must have been passerby’s who were gawking at me and speaking their mind loudly towards me, but I would hear the voices even when I am alone.
Something is definitely not right.
Then, out of the blue one day, Sylvia came into my room. She was wearing a very extravagant ball gown and the same silk gloves I always see her wear. “Listen, I know I haven’t invited you to any parties since you came here, and I apologize for that. Nevertheless, you must understand that I only did it because you were uncivilized and lacking any upper class material.”
“Uhm, Okay Sylvia.” I replied back, not really knowing how to respond to that.
“And you know I have been training you these past few months to being a fine, young woman who represents a pinnacle of civility and respect.” She then smiled greatly. “I think the time has come for me to introduce you to the world of the great pillars of our society.”
I immediately jumped out of my seat at that. “Does that mean… I can go to one of your parties?!”
“Of course Robin, but I would need you to freshen up and wear your most expensive outfit if you want to make a good impression.”
After she left I immediately ransacked through my closet, pulling the best-looking gown I can find in there and putting it on. I have heard so much about these parties that Sylvia goes to, especially online. Apparently, it’s one of those super exclusive parties the Plaza Hotel holds once in a while for the elites, and they are like those parties you see in the movie The Great Gatsby, only modern. As I got outside to meet Sylvia, the stinging sensation in my legs has returned, feeling as though thousands of needles are pricking them all at once. It hurt so bad, in fact, that I was forced to limp towards Sylvia. “It appears as though you’re having some mobility issues my darling.”
“I’ll say,” I really didn’t care if it was un-lady like to swear, the sensation was becoming unbearable. “The stinging has been creeping up my body for the last few weeks now!”
When I looked at Sylvia, she only showed a smile on her face. It looked very sinister to me, as if she was enjoying the fact my legs have been acting like this. “Oh dear, well try your best to toughen up and stick around until midnight or so. I’m sure the pain will go away by then.”
I nodded and got into the car as we headed to the party. I would have pointed out to her that we could have easily gone there by foot as it was a fifteen-minute walk from the condominium tower, but I figured she would have explained that it was to make a grand entrance at the party. As for the party itself, it was something else; everybody was having the time of their lives and smelled of, so you know when a party is about to be epic. Sylvia was entertaining herself with some of the other attendees, so she left me alone in the middle of the party. Now that I am surrounded by people in a closed environment, I start to notice that the looks have ratcheted up from admiration to complete obsession, with piercing glares, and I’m not sure if it’s me or the alcohol, but the faces a bit more… deformed, with teeth and fingers looking like scissors, and eyes an empty black void. I was starting to panic when I bumped into a rather sexy man who appears to be wearing a soldier’s uniform…. Which is odd, as everyone else is wearing formal attire, but hey, he looks cute despite being a bit paler then everybody else? “So sorry to have bumped into you miss, your smashing shoes distracted me.” He said with a bashful tone.
“Oh it’s no problem,” the hallucinations seemed to have disappeared now. That's a good sign. “I’m Robin Noel.”
“Charmed, I’m Pinci.”
“That’s a rather odd name, is it a nickname of some sort?”
He just smirked at me, “You can say that if you will.” Something about this person, I don’t know. I feel like I’ve seen him from somewhere. However, I shrugged it off; the booze must still be messing with my brain. The Soldier just simply leaned down and took a look at my shoes; but then he pulls out a small knife and jabs it into my leg.
What the fuck?! I immediately lunged back and took a fall, having to press against the wound so that it doesn’t bleed. “What is wrong with you?!” I yelled at him. “I can get you sent to jail you prick!”
“Oh I’m just collecting my payment for it to be complete.” He said; holding on to the blood-soaked knife as he nonchalantly walks into the crowd. Isn’t anybody going to stop him? He stabbed me for the love of god!
Then finally someone comes to my aid, “Are you alright miss?” The waitress asked, helping me to a bench near the exit, “that was quite a fall.”
“Are you brain dead or something? Some jackass in a soldier's uniform stabbed me in the leg! Why didn’t you, nor anybody else tried to stop him?!”
“I’m sorry, but there was nobody with you.” She explained to me. “You were basically just wandering around until you slipped on some spilled wine and landed on broken glass.”
“Oh… Alright then, thank you.” I couldn’t believe that though, the soldier was there, and I felt the knife digging into my leg. Speaking of which, I have to check the wound to see if the bleeding had stopped, so I moved my stockings down until they were at my ankles to check. What I saw horrified me to the core. My legs... My legs are covered in some sort of fabric that reached up to my knees. What is going on? I tried to take off this mysterious fabric, but I pinched it. I felt a sharp pain in the same spot as if as I was pinching my own skin. That’s when I realized the fabric was my skin. “W-what is happening to me?”
I managed to keep myself composed on the outside, but inside my mind was racing. I don’t know what to do, I don’t even know what is happening to me, but the fabric felt familiar when I pinched it. I rubbed what is now my skin; the fabric is the exact same silk as my shoes. Does this mean that the shoes are causing are all this? Then I just have to take them off!
However, when I looked down, I saw that the shoes were practically fused to my feet, it would be impossible to pull them off. I have to find Sylvia and ask her to help me get the shoes off— Wait… A thought clicked in my head at that moment; all the oddities I noticed about her, her actions, they started to link in which my mind was telling me an ugly truth: Sylvia was the one responsible for my body turning into silk. If she finds me who knows what she’ll do next.
“I need to leave,” I said to myself as I bolted out the exit and made a mad dash towards our condominium, passing by people who now looked more deformed and terrifying than ever. As soon as I reached our condominium, I just slammed the door behind me and bolted it shut; there has to be something here that explains what is going on, and how to stop this. “Come on Robin, think you idiot, you’ve been into all the rooms, there must have been something you missed.”
Actually… No I haven’t now I think about it, there’s still that one room; she forbids me from entering as it was her workspace. Well screw that then, I ran towards the room and opened it. Everything about it was so off putting, there were materials I have never seen before, fabrics that look just like the stuff that is replacing my skin, but what really caught my attention was the book on her desk.
I walked to the book, opening it up and flipping through the pages to find any cure for my situation. Just great; it was all in Sylvia’s home language. I wouldn’t be able to read this even if my life depended on it. As I sat the book down though, I got a better look at the cover. It was indeed a devil's face, with the horns I remembered seeing, and it looked like it was crafted out of some bones for it was too dense to be made of wood. “Wait a minute,” I said to myself. “That face…I knew it looked familiar!”
It was the soldier from the party, the son of a bitch who stabbed me! Why was his face on the cover? Does that mean he’s a demon of some sort? Well, it doesn’t matter now I guess, I looked around some more, hopefully finding something that would save me. I didn’t though, and when I looked at my legs, I can see that it’s starting to creep up to my thighs. I knew I had to stop this as soon as possible; I made a beeline to the kitchen and grabbed the largest knife I could find, plopping myself down to the floor as I immediately started to hack away at my legs, the pain was unbearable; I just wanted to stop, but the sight of my silk legs forced me to continue hacking. Blood splattering everywhere, the sound of bone crunching, my adrenaline pumping to the limit; I didn’t think it would end, but in the end it did. Though unfortunately the amount of blood I lost made me woozy and sick, I just couldn’t get up and get out of there, so I exactly lied there on the floor, waiting for myself to die and get out of this nightmare.
It never happened.
I slowly started to come to, feeling sick and sweaty as if I woke up from a horrible nightmare, only for me to remember that it was all real. Even so, something was off. I was lying on the couch. I could only just get up and opened my eyes as I barely had the strength, but I could still tell I was resting on the couch. “Oh Robin, you didn’t have to resort to chop off your own legs.”
Oh god, I know that voice. I looked around and saw Sylvia sitting across from me in her chair next to the lit fireplace, sipping some tea. "What... Did you… Do… to me?” I meekly asked, feeling as though I am about to throw up.
“I will admit though, I am surprised you found out this early and resorted to chopping off your own legs just to survive.” She said with a chuckle. "Then again, though, my past girls tried to commit suicide to save themselves from their fate, but once Pinčiukas gets his payment from me in the form of your blood; the contract is sealed, and you can’t die until I harvest you for your skin. Usually, it’s with a slit of the wrists, or a bullet to the head; never in my wildest dreams, I would have thought your first instinct was to remove your legs. I will admit when I found you lying on the floor amputated I was really worried; after all, will it mean that my attempts at harvesting you have failed? After all if I fail this test at the age my body is at, then I would surely be dead before I can try again; thank the heavens that crafty devil makes sure his end of the bargain is fulfilled.”
What did she mean by that? I lifted my head up to look at my lower half to see how bad my amputation effort was. “NO, HOW CAN THIS BE?!” I screamed my lungs out, my legs… they were attached to my body again, as if the amputation never occurred. “Why are you doing this to me, you bitch?! Why do you want to harvest my skin?!”
“I don’t appreciate your tone young lady, but if you must know. That book in my office holds the key for immortality; I am over 200 years old after all. I need to harvest your skin so that I can make it into my own pair of clothing I have to wear to stay young, of course when I wear the skin of another person, the result is that I take up the appearance of my victim. You should be thankful though, you’ll be the first one I kill to make myself an extravagant black woman for the world to yearn for.”
She got up, and started to head towards me with a large needle containing some strange liquid, “Now I need you to go to sleep until the process is complete, after all I can’t let you die at this moment in time."
“No! I won’t let you do that!” I screamed, lunging myself towards Sylvia with what strength I had left and tackled her.
“Get off of me; you little brat!” She yelled; we were clawing and scratching each other trying to get the needle. “I have raised you to be a woman of the highest order, and this how you repay me?! No wonder, no adult wanted to adopt a brat like you!”
I managed to grab the needle away from her, “Yeah, well screw you bitch!” I then jabbed the needle into her arm and injecting her with the liquid. The stuff is extremely powerful as Sylvia stopped struggling within a matter of seconds. Finally, it is over… no; it wasn’t over. Sylvia will just wake up and try to take me again, how am I supposed to kill her? Is what she said really true that this contract with that demon gives her immortality? If that is the case, then that would mean she can’t allow anything to happen to her gloves. Those things must be the source of Sylvia’s immortality, so I removed them from her hands and chucked them into the fireplace.
It sparks as if the things were made of combustible material; I looked at Sylvia; she was essentially gone with that was remaining being a pile of ashes. I looked at my legs. They also returned to normal, which means that by killing Sylvia, the contract must have been called off. “Thank god,” I said triumphantly. “Now to get rid of that damn book.”
I grabbed the book and almost threw it into the fireplace when suddenly. “Now hold on there miss.” A familiar voice rang out from my hands. I looked down at the cover and saw that the face of Pinci is now alive, looking at me with a stern facial expression.  “Aren’t you being hasty by destroying me?”
I should have just screamed and dropped the book like any sane person would, but after going through the shit I went through, the fact this thing is alive doesn’t bother me anymore. “Why shouldn’t I? Your friend nearly killed me and tried to make me a fashion product as if I were fur. Give me one damn reason why I shouldn’t burn you.”
“Because I can grant you what she had,” he explained. “An extravagant life; one where everything comes to you with just a simple command, where people treat you like you were a goddess, and power of immortality.” He grinned. “All I ask in return is that you need to protect your silk shoes as your life depended on it, and when I come to claim a soul, you would bring one to me, one who is filled with utter joy and happiness from living like royalty, no questions asked, as a happy soul is very important to me. Once the contract is fulfilled, the chosen one’s body will be yours for the taking, and you can make the skin into whatever you want to wear.”
An endless cycle, it’s all that it is. I would have to prop up some unfortunate person to make them feel loved, and have the devil take them whenever he wants. It’s all so sickening. And yet… the life I had with Sylvia was the happiest I have ever been, if I refuse the offer, I would be going back to a life of poverty and loneliness, and having to take the harsh realities of life. “Alright Pinci, you got yourself a deal.”
I don’t want to go to that life again. I would rather sacrifice the entire world then go back to that life. I don’t care if I have to sacrifice a child if it means keeping this life.
Besides, the world never cared about me to begin with.
So why should I care about the world?
Silk Feet
Yep; another horror story for another contest I didn't win xD This time it's to write a modern retelling of a famous children's rhyme or fairy tale, my story is based off the Red Shoes by Hans Christian Andersenn. So I hope you all enjoy it
Ace Kenshader ref sheet- Cheetah form by hooded-wanderer
Ace Kenshader ref sheet- Cheetah form
Yeah so I finally got myself a reference pic for my main char Ace Kenshader.... At least in his cheetah form anyway =c=;;.

This lovely gem was done by the ever wonderful :icongillpanda: as a commission, and it was well worth the money <3

Art (c) :icongillpanda:
Ace Kenshader (C) Me

Mature Content

or, enter your birth date.



Please enter a valid date format (mm-dd-yyyy)
Please confirm you have reviewed DeviantArt's Terms of Service below.
* We do not retain your date-of-birth information.
Ever since online shopping sites like eBay, Amazon and advertisement sites like Craigslist became main stream, a whole plethora of odd items that would never be considered an item are now being sold as if they are autographed LeBron James jerseys. But recently a new sort of item is being put up for auction; something that in hindsight is just plain odd and self-fulfilling: an entire town, with prices on these bad boys ranging from half a million to close over five million. There is no practical purpose to owning a town aside from gloating to your rich friends, not to mention making yourself mayor without getting involved in politics; but for some it can be potential piggybanks if you play your cards right.

That’s what Landon Dunlap was planning anyway.

A product of Wall St. during the housing market boom, this thirty year old was a multi-millionaire who could have easily retired and lived the life of luxury; but Landon was the sort of person who wants to leave a legacy that future generations will remember. So when he found out the mayor of Fire Creek put up a Craigslist add for a town of 10 (at least that’s what the ad stated) being sold in Fayette County, West Virginia for about $3 million, he saw this as a prime opportunity to turn this dump into a future city; he just couldn’t help himself but call the guy who put up the ad and set up a meeting at the mayor’s office.  Of course he could have picked any other ghost town in the state, lord knows there is an abundance of them, but the seller enticed Mr. Dunlap with an offer that included no restrictions on developing the land into whatever he wishes, and having no government interference. Red flags should have been raised at the idea that he can develop the land without any regulations from the state and federal government; but Mr. Dunlap figured that even with the prospect of the promise turning out to have been a lie, he can just basically pay certain politicians to look the other way.

Driving towards Fire Creek in his Tahoe on the C&O Railroad that extends through Thurmond, another ghost town on the New River; it is pretty clear that unlike Thurmond with its buildings preserved as landmarks, there was only dense forest on the way to Fire Creek and some fog as if some higher power is using White Out on this patch of land. There was however one house he noticed that looked in near good condition, despite having tell-tale signs of a house fire; on the outskirts of town was a sort of decrepit two story mansion that has a lonely mailbox jutting out on the side of the road, almost begging to grab his attention.

He pulled over right next to the mailbox to get out and analyze the house and its surroundings; something about the place really stroked his curiosity, he couldn’t decide if it was the Neo-Georgian architecture, or the fact that right behind it was a god damn graveyard; most likely the graveyard. It was so jarring that there would be such an extravagant house surrounded by tombstones; but hey he can always just tear the thing down and turn the land into something new. He checked the mailbox to see if it had a name, but before he could even check he heard a raspy voice behind him. “So that’s where you been Mr. Dunlap; reckoned the wolves got to yah on the way here!”

Landon was so startled; he turned a full 180 and managed to strain some muscles in his back. “Damn it,” he groaned and rubbed his back. “Next time give me a warning will yah mister?”

Looking at the guy really gave him an uncomfortable feeling; for one thing his business suit is ridiculously dirty and tattered, which coupled together with his musty grey beard gave Landon the impression he’s likely the town oddball. The other thing was that he looks so cheerful; it wouldn’t have bothered him so much, but his rotting teeth and frail figure really wasn’t a pretty sight to look at. “Pleasure to meet you officially,” the dirty gent said, extending out his bony hand. “I’m Coleton Burrows, the mayor of this fine establishment we call Fire Creek.”

Landon was afraid that this guy was the mayor, but in hindsight it was pretty obvious; this is an abandoned town he is buying after all, and that tidbit the ad mentioned about this ruin having a population higher than 1 was most certainly bullshit. But he needed to suck it up and not be repulsed by Burrows, he really wanted to buy this town after all; its location was perfect as it was in the mouth of New River Gorge, and once he finishes developing this patch of land into a new smart city there’s no doubt the foreign billionaires who buy houses and units as nothing more than investments will be eating this up. “Charmed to meet you Mayor Burrows, mind telling me what the heck is up with that house?”

“Oh you mean Blackstone Hall? You wouldn’t want to be stepping around there sonny; that place has quite a bit of history that would even make H.H. Holmes tremble!”

“Good to know then,” now Landon was very curious about this place, but he only came here to buy, so he allowed the mayor into his car and drove him back to the town square where the office is. The building was certainly nothing worthy to write about, just essentially a one story building that has the outside façade of a small town convenience store. The inside was just as unimpressive; a desk cluttered with official looking papers, hunting trophies hanging on the walls, and a cabinet that frankly has seen much better days, in fact the place was pretty disorganized. But he kept the thought to himself, as he doesn’t want to screw up the sale if the mayor has a hair trigger temper. “So, shall we start the negotiation process for the sale of this town?” He asked, settling himself down on a chair opposite the desk and putting his leather briefcase next to him.

“Oh come now dear child, surely you must be curious as to the story about the house surrounded by death aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes, your just begging me to tell you this story!” In all honesty, it’s more like the Mayor was keen to talk about this story since he keeps pushing it, but whatever, he might as well just listen to it as he nodded to let him know Landon definitely wants to hear this story, even though it’s just for getting this deal done sooner. “Well you’ve probably heard about the Red Ash Mine explosion that occurred back in 1900 that killed up to 50 miners, May the lord rest their souls in peace; anyways that explosion pretty much decimated the economy of Red Ash, the now former settlement that’s just on the opposite end of the river, so the bodies were buried on Red Ash Island.”

“It is an interesting story,” Landon said while tapping his fingers on the desk. “But I fail to see how it relates to Fire Creek; you said it yourself, the accident happened at Red Ash.”

“Well, ‘officially’ an accident anyway,” the entrepreneur immediately had his interest perked. “There were rumors enveloping the Gorge that the death count was actually closer to 130, but the bodies had… Certain characteristics if you will that will make things uncomfortable if the public were to see them. You see, after Pearl Harbor, the Fire Creek mine became a joint venture project between the Fire Creek Coal & Coke Company and the federal government as a research facility and testing ground, as the old facility at Red Ash became obsolete. I heard from my pappy that they were making a secret weapon of sorts in the mines that would help the US Army win the Second World War, and protect the homeland from a Soviet invasion. And that secret weapon had to do with something that was in the Red Ash mine that caused these characteristics on the bodies; but after another incident that killed almost everyone in the facility, they shut down the project, and made sure that there wouldn’t be anybody living in the Gorge by the way of the Red Car.”

“You mean-“

“Yep; they bought the mines within the region and had them shut down to economically starve the town so that they have the residents be given a reason to move out. Of course it is only a rumor.” Landon was certainly interested in this rumor, but he wondered what it had to do with Blackstone Hall. Almost as if the quirky mayor can telepathically read minds, he answered his question before he even had the chance to ask. “Blackstone Hall is actually the residence of the last mine owner, a Mr. Thaddeus Quentin; the gravesite that surrounds the place is where the rest of the miners from the Red Ash explosion, including the incident that occurred in the facility underneath the mansion, and there’s a possibility that there is a second entrance to the mine within that house.”

“Why would there be a second entrance inside a house instead of it being a regular mineshaft?” Landon asked Mr. Burrows.

“As I said, the mine was rumored to house a secret research facility; so why don’t you use that smart brain of yours to connect the two together and get your answer?” Mayor Burrows replied with a grin, now being cheekily coy with Landon; now he was starting to notice a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. Now that he thought about it; he had been getting this ever since he met the Mayor: Why was this Mayor selling the town to begin with? And how come he was so eager to tell these stories to him? Landon pushed these questions in the backburner; he was more focused on getting this town, he would deal with whatever secrets the town had after he gets ownership of the land. Once the mayor seemed satisfied with saturating his buyer with all the stories, he pulled open a drawer and grabbed a document as he set it on his desk; finally he brings up the deed… At least he thinks it’s a deed; it looks official, though Landon still can’t help but feel a nagging suspicion. “So Mr. Dunlap,” he pushed a Parker Duofold fountain pen towards the businessman. “Do we have ourselves a deal?”

Whatever qualms he had; once the document came into Landon’s sight with the pen in his grasp, the doubts he had immediately dissipated and was replace with euphoric satisfaction. Finally he thought to himself, he can own this patch of land and do whatever he wants; and without hesitation he signed his names on the dotted line. “Well of course we have a deal Mr. Burrows,” he said and set the pen down, grabbing the document and putting it in his briefcase. “It was pleasure to do business with you; I’ll make sure to send this government to Charleston and Washington so that they can make the land sale official.” It’s also in the event that if they don’t accept the deed; he can make some under the table dealings so that he can ‘persuade’ some of the most influential politicians.

“Excellent, I’ll be happy to hear the results of your efforts when you come back.” He said in a rather low, soft tone. Something about the way he said it really rubbed him the wrong way; as if the Mayor has some ulterior plan in mind.  Whatever he thought to himself; he will be out of his hair and will have the free time to do whatever the hell Burrows does in his spare time. As he got into his truck and drove out of Fire Creek; his curiosity about Blackstone Hall is growing more aggressive, almost like a mental itch that he can’t even scratch.  

‘Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to check out this house before I leave,’ Landon thought, pulling over right next to the familiar lone mailbox and getting out, bringing with him a compact flashlight that was in the glove compartment. ‘After all, this is technically my mansion now; and once I restore the building I can turn it into my personal residence.’ Landon really didn’t seem much concerned about the story Burrows told him about the mansion, in fact it actually drove his curiosity even further, and if it turns out that his story is true he can even turn this into a tourist attraction for his future city. He can imagine the tagline now: '''‘STEP RIGHT INTO THE PAST; LEARN ABOUT THE SECRETS THE ONCE BUSTLING TOWN OF FIRE CREEK HAD BEEN HIDING FROM THE WORLD.’''' Though of course it would help if he found out what specifically were those secrets it hold. Climbing up the small steps to the mansion; loud creaks from the rotting wood emanated through his ears, piercing into the sky and sending a tingle through his spine. He knew well in advance that this won’t be the last of getting these tingly sensations; this place was something you would see in a Ghost Hunters episode, but like a trooper he ignored the sensation and opened the creaking door.

Well one thing’s for sure as he slowly walked his way inside, he wasn’t the first visitor it had.  The floor is covered in rubble and trash, while the walls and some furniture are covered in graffiti tags, “Damn kids,” he said to himself as he wondered around the place, the flashlight’s beam shining on all the nooks and crannies. “Haven’t the youthful pricks ever heard of private property?”

As he wandered around the foyer, he kept hearing these rustling sounds echoing through the house; it’s probably just the house creaking in its natural state, there is just no way anybody would be in this house as it is completely cut off from the world around it along with Fire Creek, stuck in figurative limbo as a relic from the former heydays. But there was no doubt for Landon: Something, or someone was watching him, did the mayor tailed him and is now stalking him? Either way he should get out as soon as possible, but as he decided to make a U-turn and leave, something in what was once the living room caught his attention; resting near a tattered couch was an antique stove that definitely seen better days. Its lid -completely removed from the hinges- was resting on the stove like a limb that seeks to be reunited with its original body; though the body was filthy, covered in tags and white specks that he can only hope isn’t bird feces, and for some reason there was a frying pan resting on the top along with what appears to be old toilet paper. He really didn’t want to check inside the thing, but that mental itch kept telling him to look inside, so with complete delicacy of a surgeon holding his breath, he stuck his hand in the stove to see what was inside.

When he grabbed hold of something and pulled it out, in his hand was this leather journal that looked pretty charred. Unfortunately the name that was written on the cover was too worn to be read, but the cover still had a unique mark that certainly distinguishes it from others: A Sunwheel, or something similar to that effect, it certainly wasn’t the same Sunwheel design that is seen on documentary shows that talk about Nazi’s and the occult, but still that is the only thing that can best describe it. “How odd,” he said to himself, now just allowing his mind to escape the cage of his cranium through the mouth. “I’m sure the owner of this thing wouldn’t mind me taking a look at it.” He opened the journal, taking a seat on the tattered couch and started to read its content.

January 10th, 1952

This is Dr. Burrows; I will be using this journal to record the process of Project Cherufe -which will be starting tomorrow-, including interviews with the test subjects involved in this experiment, and the results, as I, along with my director Dr. Melsbach, will be leading the group. I have taken extra precautions to make sure this journal isn’t discovered and destroyed in the event Project Cherufe blows up in everyone faces; knowing the CIA will try to remove any public records of what we are doing, we are breaking all sorts of United States federal and international laws for conducting this experiment after all. If this does end up going to hell in a hand basket; I am sorry to whoever is reading this, and I am sorry to god.

Burrows? He thought to himself in surprise of hearing a familiar name; surely it isn’t the same Burrows he was negotiating with earlier right? Nah, it’s more likely that Coleton was the doctor’s son.

January 11th, 1952

After discussing how to proceed with Dr. Melsbach; the first step would be to do a pre-experimentation with the ten subjects to evaluate the physical and mental conditions pre and post-experimentation. Due to lack of civilian identification given to us by our superiors; the subjects will be identified throughout the course and in this journal by the identification mark tattooed on the palm of they’re right hand: A21, B04, C79, D86, E52, F63, G98, H10, I37, and J45. Most of them are mentally sound; and all of them are healthy enough to pass the physical bar, though Subject H10 concerns me greatly, as he exhibits clear sign of schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

I recommended to the Director that he be removed from program as he might be a danger to himself and to everyone around him; of course that Nazi prick shot me down immediately, saying that it will be interesting to see Project Cherufe’s effects on people whose mind are not sound. Why the CIA brought him over to the States instead of having him stay in Germany and face the public’s wrath is beyond me.

For Landon it was like reading a mystery thriller; he couldn’t put the journal down. Not only that; this actually confirms that kooky mayor’s story about this area, he’s got the proof he need to make this into a hot spot to the likes of Roswell. He kept reading to see what other nuggets he could find out.

March 3rd, 1952

'After nearly two months of administrating weekly 400mg dosages of Project Cherufe; we have already noticed some significant changes; the pores on their skins are emitting gaseous forms of Acetylene. We are still determining how this is possible, but we have advised the entire team to not bring lighters, or any materials that can produce a spark into the vicinity of the subjects for the time being, lest we want to turn all of our research into charred remains.

March 5th, 1952

This is unbelievable; Subject D86 was ignited during an interview session with one of the lowly scientists. I don’t know why but Dr. Melsbach asked the scientist to do the interview in the interview rooms, even though I explicitly warn him and the group the carpeting will create static electricity that’ll ignite the Acetylene. But in this screw-up, we saw something nothing short of a breakthrough: Despite temperatures reaching close to 3000°F, his skin hasn’t even developed blisters and first degree burns. If D86’s skin can resist these sorts of temperature’s, does that mean the other subjects have the same genetic quirk?

March 20th, 1952

D86 is dead. Dr. Melsbach found him lying face down in the sleeping quarters; no visible marks have been noticed, and it appeared he died of natural causes. I know Melsbach had something to do with his death, because he immediately began to slice him open to see if Project Cherufe made any changes to the internal structure. His organs were… Solidified; they were covered in a thick layer of rock; not only that, but when we did testing on his blood, there was barely any oxygen left, instead being replaced by Acetylene. Opening the brain he found the brain –while intact- had shriveled up from the heat the body’s been emitting. This person should have been dead long ago; a brain in this state is surely fatal, so what has been keeping the subject alive up to this point? The team and I were horrified about the results, but Dr. Melsbach only nodded and jotted these sets of information down into his notebook, most likely going to report it to the CIA about the results. The funny thing is… His insides changing to that of something no many can describe is not what mortified me, it was a scar on his right leg, a giant one at that; I recognize that scar from anywhere… D86 was actually Thaddeus Quentin.”

Mr. Quentin was used as an experiment in this fucked up program? Landon thought to himself; he started to hear more rustlings in the house, and even slight sounds of moaning.

April 2nd, 1952

No matter how much I told Dr. Melsbach the ramifications of continuing this experiment, he refused to call it off and even threatened me with reporting to the upper brass about me going to the media if I so much think about quitting. That’s basically an instant death sentence; the CIA is so paranoid about one-upping the Soviet Union that they would eliminate any problems in order to protect the nation’s secrets. Doesn’t he realize that we are reaching a critical stage? The skin has eroded and replaced with a substance that can be best described as magma, the rooms they are housed in can’t even handle the 5500°F temperatures. Not only that; A21, E52, and F63 died after being savagely beaten by the other subjects; they’re mentality has deteriorated to the point of being rabid beasts… Most of them; H10 though seems to be the only one who’s mentality appears to be stable comparatively speaking. Just resting against the wall and smiling at the sight, but I suspect he was directing his smiles at us. From observations it seems the remaining subjects are now like pets, listening to their master; I can only guess who their master is though. If we don’t kill the subjects now while we have the chance we might be able to prevent a disaster from occurring.

When he finished reading the entry, Landon noticed something off about his surroundings: The temperature spiked. It felt like the Sahara Desert was put inside the mansion along with its weather; the extreme humidity making it difficult for him to breathe. Even then, he didn’t think he was in danger yet; besides he thought, it looks as though there is one last entry left in the journal, once he finished reading this he would get out of there.

April 8th, 1952

I’m bleeding out. I managed to escape the manor after the facility went ablaze; but I lost too much blood to even make it far. I will write this final entry with the remaining strength I have, as the people deserved to know.

H10 instigated a riot; he commanded the other subjects to attack the scientists and destroy the place. I should have put that bastard down when I had the chance; he’s a complete sociopath with no regard for humanity. Dr. Melsbach and I made a mad dash towards the head office where there was an emergency stairway. We need to report the incident to the CIA; if these things get out there is no telling what will happen. H10 found us while I was talking to the officials in DC about the riot; managing to melt down the reinforced Tungsten doors down into a puddle of wax just by standing near the damn thing. The others according to readings were still at 5500°F, which we assumed was the threshold, yet he’s past 6000°F; I can only hypothesize that H10 is the only one who can control his own body temperature.

He immediately lunged towards us; I managed to fall back into the emergency stairway, but he grabbed a hold of Dr. Melsbach... His death was horrifying to watch; his body was ablaze like a candle, the high temperature being a living hell as all that liquid inside his body basically evaporated into steam and turning him into a pressure cooker, exploding instantly. I tried to escape but the son a bitch threw something at me that tore my left side open, and unfortunately the hot item went through me, so it wasn’t able to cauterize any open blood vessels. I managed to get up to the mansion; I suspect that the facility collapsed, as H10 never bothered to go after me, like it wouldn’t make much of a difference anyhow. To anyone who found this journal and read this, please bring this to the attention of the Federal Government; the CIA needs to be accountable for the crimes it has committed in Project Cherufe.

Landon closed the book; could this journal be actually telling the truth? Is this place a tombstone of experimental freaks? Whatever the case; he immediately makes a beeline for the door to get the hell out of the there. Reaching outside; it was quite apparent that something was seriously wrong; his truck was missing. “Damn it, what the hell happened to my truck?!” he kicked the dirt in frustration.

“Oh I took as a personal belonging,” familiar voice rang behind him. The instant he turned around; Mr. Burrows struck his head with a shovel in such a force, that his skull split wide open as Landon hit the ground, and with two more swings to his legs, he incapacitated the bloodied businessman with the sound of bone cracking. The Mayor, holding the document that he signed earlier, tore it to pieces. He grabbed Landon by his wrists and started to drag him back to the manor. “You really didn’t think I placed that ad to sell my home, especially to a yuppie in a suit did you?” Landon wasn’t able to respond to that; it was a miracle he was even conscious after that blow. “I have been doing this scam for 50 years, always luring in dumbasses and wanderers to my little slice of heaven for food.”

He looked at Landon; his skin blistering open from the 1000°F heat that was confined to only inside Blackstone Hall, the two going further into the place with the temperature rising further. “Oh don’t worry boy,” Burrows laughed. “I’m not going to eat you, I may be in my 70’s now, but I can still hunt animals with ease to take care of myself. My obedient pets on the other hand… Well let’s just say they need some help with getting they’re meal.” When he reached his destination, he threw Landon into one of the backrooms, barely lit except for an orange glow coming from the other end of the room. Landon tried his best to get out of there with a crawl, but the blow to the head made him dizzy and severely crippled his co-ordination. Looking back to the source of the glow, he saw five human-like figures sat in a circle, but the comparison to humans end there. They’re skin was covered in a black molten crust that leaked white hot magma from any opening they had; mouth, ear, wound, even their eyes are leaking magma as though they are tears. As they lumbered they’re way towards Landon, he can the expressions these things had: hunger. He now realized that he wasn’t brought here for a sale, he was the unfortunate schmuck who signed up to be dinner under the guise of a sale.

When he looked at Dr. Burrows, the frail old bastard only gave a sinister grin towards his now former acquaintance. “It was a wonderful deal you offered me, but I am afraid I have to reconsider, as I know I can get better offers in the near future.” He waved his right hand to say goodbye and left. Before he could even react the beasts lunged on top of him and started devouring him, each bite making bits of his flesh crackling and sizzling; he lied there and just allowed the beings to eat them, admitting defeat. The last thing he will remember before he dies is the mark on Mayor Burrow’s right hand as he was waving to him: H10. Guess in some twisted way he now knows the story is indeed true; and would surely bet that Mayor Burrows would be using this story as an urban legend, to lure more cattle to slaughter.
Fire Creek
My second story; made for yet another contest on . Alas; it didn't make it to the final 10 just like the last story, but I hope you all enjoy it none-the-less :o

"AUSTIN — Aides to Gov. Rick Perry offered Travis County District Attorney Rosemary Lehmberg continued employment in the district attorney's office if she resigned her elected post following a drunk-driving arrest, officials familiar with the offer said Thursday.

The offer came after Perry threatened and then vetoed $7.5 million in funding for the office's anti-corruption unit, known as the Public Integrity Unit, because Lehmberg had refused to step down.

But several officials and sources told the Express-News that Perry — through intermediaries — offered various options to Lehmberg to entice her resignation, culminating in promises to restore funding to the unit, another position in the District Attorney's office, and selection of her top lieutenant to serve as the new district attorney.

The offer was explicit; “they were clear,” the elected official said.

Travis County Commissioner Gerald Daughtery, a Republican, said he reached out to Perry's office following the veto to see if there was some way to restore state funding for the anti-corruption Public Integrity Unit. He said that negotiations eventually included allowingDemocrats, who dominate Travis County politics, to essentially pick Lehmberg's replacement.

“There was this massive amount of fear that if Rosemary steps down, it's the governor who gets to appoint someone,” Daughtery said. A Lehmberg aide was floated as a potential replacement to make it palatable to Democrats.

Travis County Judge Sam Biscoe confirmed that Perry's office had said that Lehmberg would be replaced with another Democrat who was currently working in the District Attorney's office.

“Then the offer was made, I was told, that the Governor would appoint a Democrat, and preferably one already working in the DA's office,” he said.

Biscoe added that he had never directly communicated with either Perry or his staff during the talks.

Two sources told the Express-News identified First Assistant District Attorney John Neal as the replacement.

In late July, the offer was sweetened again, the two sources said, when the Governor's office communicated that Lehmberg would be allowed to remain at the District Attorney's office in another capacity if she resigned her elected position.

The details about the governor's offer to Lehmberg come to light as a Travis County grand jury convenes to look into allegations that Perry, the state's longest serving governor, broke the law by threatening to veto the Public Integrity Unit funding to force Lehmberg to step down.

She refused and Perry carried through on his threat.

A special prosecutor, San Antonio attorney Michael McCrum, was named to investigate the charges.

McCrum told the Express-News last month that he did not know if there was wrongdoing on Perry's party, but he said he was “concerned about different aspects of how all this happened, and that includes the governor's actions.”

The Travis County District Attorney spokesman Rudy Magallanes said Lehmberg had no comment on the matter.

The governor's office did not offer an immediate comment on the claims.

But previously, the office had defended Perry's actions as a constitutional use of his veto authority. In a statement, Perry said he axed the money because Lehmberg was unfit to remain in office.

“Despite the otherwise good work (of) the Public Integrity Unit's employees, I cannot in good conscience support continued state funding for an office with statewide jurisdiction at a time when the person charged with ultimate responsibility of that unit has lost the public's confidence.”"

Yeah; the argument for Perry that she should have resigned because her drunk driving made her unfit to run the Public Integrity Unit basically falls flat when the fact of the matter is this: Perry offered Lehmberg a job in her own District Attorney's office if she resigned. It's completely bonkers to claim moral ethics on threatening to veto because of refusal to resign as he was offering her a job within the same DA she works for. 


Ace Kenshader
Artist | Student | Varied
Current Residence: Regina, Saskatchewan, you know the rectangle province?
Favourite genre of music:
Operating System: Windows XP
MP3 player of choice: Zen Micro (outside) Windows Media (PC)
Shell of choice: humans don't wear shells
Favourite cartoon character:
Personal Quote: doing something just to be popular is just plain dumb

Basically just a writer who can do a variety of genres, as well as an aspiring artist who wishes he can draw like comics or manga, but his current skills are non-existent.

Skype: Note me first
Steam: Note me First
AIM: Note Me First
Yahoo: Note Me First

Ace Kenshader's Gamercard
I'm only doing this because of the badge; not to mention that there's not a whole lot for me to discuss about my story. I want to be an artist and draw stuff like comics and manga, but I don't have the skills nor the patience to accomplish that, and I still don't have confidence in my writing. Huzzah I guess?Portrait of myself by hooded-wanderer

As you can see; this is basically the only sort of style I can do, this was done back in 2008 for an art project class back in high school, and yeah, my talent hasn't improved much since then.

My most recent writing project that was finished, a sort of creepy-pasta for a contest. 

Max Longear and Storage Building # 52 by hooded-wanderer

And yes; I can also do kid-friendly stories. Most of my writing material is essentially related to the furry fandom and other fandoms, but I would love to make visual stories as I feel that some ideas I have are better told through comics/manga then in words. 


Fri Sep 27, 2013, 2:40 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 10:04 PM
Thanks for the :points:! Enjoy the new :llama:
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:08 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:01 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:01 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:00 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:00 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:00 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:00 PM
Thu Sep 26, 2013, 9:00 PM


:iconfurryhockeyleague: :iconthe-bsc:


Add a Comment:
son-sora Featured By Owner May 29, 2015
Hi, thanks so much for the watch!
Adipose-Rex Featured By Owner Apr 2, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the clock.
DragonKnightDH Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Hey thanks much for the watch! :D
emoandmusiclover Featured By Owner Jan 2, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
thanks for the watch!! ^^ ANOTHER CANADIAN WATCHED ME XD!!!! Canada 
curtsibling Featured By Owner Dec 20, 2014  Professional Digital Artist
Thanks for the add! :D
Rogue-Wulf Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2014  Hobbyist
Thank you for the watch :D
DANYANTTO Featured By Owner Nov 22, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thanks for the watch n.n
XxStarDragonxX Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2014
Thanks for the Watch!+ :iconiloveyouplz:
Tamboribora Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2014  Student Artist
Hey hey! thanks for the watch!
GrayBlueStudios Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2014
Thank you for the watch
Add a Comment: