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Part One: Summer Skins
Chapter One: Blessed By Summer’s Kiss

Since she was a child, Velrayne had always been uncontrollable. She never stopped moving, and was madly in love with the world around her. She was wild throughout her youth; she never tied back her long, dark hair, and instead let it whip about her face like smoke. Her skin was bronzed from summer suns she’d never once stayed inside for and layers of dirt she was loathe to scrub away, the stubborn child she was.

At seven years old, Velrayne had two older brothers and one small sister. Twelve year old Atistre was extremely affectionate towards his sister, always happy to play with her when she demanded his company. Ten year old Rheian, however, wanted nothing to do with the child except to torment her. Rheian was not a cruel boy, but teasing his sister and pulling her hair were games to him; to chase Velrayne and be chased by her knight, brave Sir Brother Atistre.  When Rheian gave into it, he could be quite fond of Velrayne, and the three of them would be a force to be reckoned with. Little Aridia, only three years old, was often excluded, as Velrayne and Rheian considered her too small and fragile to play with them.

Velrayne’s family was one of magic, old blood from when dragons blessed humans with gifts of control over the elements. But blood thinned and weakened as magic folk married into powerless families, and pure sorcerers were rare. Velrayne’s parents, Karymna and Ardane, were both of magic blood, but had mixed ancestry. Rheian had very little power, able to do simple parlor tricks, but nothing more. He cared little for them, though, as his blood boiled with desire to create with his own hands, and never coveted the abilities of his siblings. Atistre was skilled at manipulating flora and fauna and was an excellent healer, but contained neither the capability nor the want for any destructive magics.

Velrayne, on the other hand, excelled at whatever she wished to. Often times, she would be running from Rheian, laughing, with adrenaline surging through her bloodstream, and would suddenly find herself above the ground, her feet carried by wind as she flew. Other times she summoned her powers on purpose, dashing behind a large boulder and waving an arm across her body only to delight in the shimmering of her skin before it disappeared to all eyes but her own. She would stalk her brothers, invisible, before pouncing and letting the spell fall away from her. Rheian delighted in her tricks, making for good sport. Atistre supported Velrayne and was endlessly proud of her, though a nagging feeling in the back of his mind told him a girl as reckless as his sister shouldn’t have that kind of power.


Velrayne pressed her ear to the door, too engrossed in what she was hearing on the other side to remember she wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Karymna, we have four children. Four. Please, remember. I know you see them all.” Her father’s voice.

“Stop it. I know we only have three. My sweet, clever Atistre, talented Velrayne, and their brother, the one who… He’s not like they are. No real magic. My other son, what is his name?” Her mother. Arguing. Again.

“Rheian! Your children are Atistre, Rheian, Velrayne, and Aridia! Aridia!” Velrayne was puzzled. Of course she had three siblings, making their number four in total. At eleven years old, she was the second youngest of her parents’ offspring. Baby Aridia, who wasn’t really a baby anymore, was eight now.

Why does Father keep shouting her name? she wondered. Perhaps her mother had forgotten it. Mother was forgetting things as of late. Aridia had gotten hurt and nearly died when she was little; ever since the accident, her mother hadn’t been quite right. Perhaps she’s worried that Aridia will hurt herself again. She didn’t walk for a very long time last time.

“You’re so cruel. You know I lost my baby. That baby, oh sweet baby. She was special, I know she was. My little girl, she could see things. Brilliant little seer.” She started to cry, and Velrayne heard a thud, which she imagined was her mother falling to the floor. “You! You took her away!” She shrieked, accusing. “Did you sell her? You sold her and her pretty eyes, eyes that saw, saw what we couldn’t, what you never could, because you were only a clever liar,” she accused venomously.

“Kar, please. You’re only upsetting yourself,” he begged. “The children are all in their beds. Come, we’ll go see Aridia, she’s safe, she’s happy, she’s-”

“Gone! A ghost! Dead, my baby, flying, my little ghost is flying, and she can’t move, oh Ardane, she hurts so much,” Karymna wailed, barely intelligible between loud sobs.

Velrayne reached for the doorknob, wanting only to rush in and comfort her mother. She was stopped at the last moment by strong, gentle hands that covered her mouth and pulled her away by the waist. When at last they were far away from her mother’s heartbreaking cries, Velrayne’s attacker made themself known. “You shouldn’t eavesdrop,” Atristre scolded, though his voice was worn and tired, and held no real threat.

Velrayne pouted. “I wanted to know what was happening with Mother. Why is she so sick? When will she get better? I want Mother back, Atistre,” she said somberly.

Atistre’s jaw clenched. “I don’t know. She thinks Aridia’s dead. Convinced she’s not real. Whenever she sees her, she screams and calls her a ghost, here to haunt her. Something happened, when Ari was hurt. Something that hurt something within Mother,” he speculated. “So we must be gentle with her, and protect our sister. Do you understand?”

Velrayne nodded and stared down at her hands. “Ari loves Mother so much,” she murmured sadly. “She doesn’t like being kept away from her all the time. Everyone’s hurting.”

“We’re not hurting as bad as they are. You and me and Rhei, we’re okay. So we must be strongest for those who can’t be for themselves. And you and Rheian especially. You must support one another, and help Father, and care for Aridia, and-”

“You’re leaving us,” Velrayne realized at once, suddenly choked up and unreasonably angry. “You’re telling me to be strong, to be brave, because we won’t have you to fix it when we get it wrong.”

He didn’t deny it. “I’m sixteen, V. I’m a skilled healer, but I need to learn more, how to get better, and I want to help people.”

“I want you to help us!” Velrayne screamed, crying freely. “Mother’s broken and Father doesn’t know what to do with her and I’m frightened and as are Aridia and Rheian and what if we’re all forgotten? Will Father take her away or will he send us far away from her so she isn’t in so much pain? We’re nothing without you, Atistre,” she sobbed, crumpling into a heap on the floor of her brother’s bedroom. Atistre knelt to comfort her, but she pushed him away, her emotions sending a shockwave buffeting into his chest. She heard an ‘oomph’ but moments later his arms were around her again, gathering her into his lap as he rocked her.

“When I’m settled, I’ll send for you. Rheian wants to stay, with Mother and Father and Aridia, in the village. He’s going to apprentice for the smith and learn to live as anyone without magic. If things get any worse, I’ll find a home for Aridia. I’m not going to abandon my family. I’ve made plans. You’ll never be alone, little witch,” he said sweetly, kissing the top of Velrayne’s head and petting her hair while she clung to him like a lifeline.

“Don’t leave me here,” she whimpered. “You love me. Don’t abandon your sister, who loves you, who needs you. You’re my brother and you protect me and I can’t live without you.”

Atistre hushed her. “Nonsense. You’re so brave, Velrayne. I’m so proud of you. You’re smart, and beautiful, and powerful. It’ll only be for a short while, and then we’ll be together again. Just us.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

Velrayne sat up and kissed his cheek before curling up in his arms once more. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

“Of course.”

The next morning, Velrayne woke in an empty bed, the space where her brother had slept beside her already cold. She simply huddled under the covers and cried, mourning. It didn’t matter if he sent for her tomorrow, or a hundred years from now, she felt the loss as if he were truly gone from her forever.


As fate would have it, it was only weeks before word came from Atistre. Rheian pulled her aside as she was mending one of her dresses, the sleeve ripped when she’d tripped the day previous. “A letter’s come for you,” he said quickly, his voice hushed. “Mother and Father know nothing of it, and they mustn't. They didn’t know Atistre was leaving, or they would never have let him go. So pack your things and be quick about it. I’m going into town this afternoon and I’ll bring you with me, to help steal you away. He’s a day’s ride from here, and there’s a horse for you waiting to carry you to him. There’s a healer he’s apprenticing under, and his wife is a talented sorceress. She’ll teach you how to use your magic. They’re in a proper town, full of people. You’ll be happy there, sister,” he promised, cupping her cheek with his hand. “And safe. Now go,” he urged, and she nodded, dashing to her room to gather what little she held dear.

When she’d packed her things in a large leather bag, she slung it over her shoulder and across her chest, leaving the bag to lie against her hip. She sought out Rheian then, and found him getting ready to leave. “You’re prepared then?” He asked, to which Velrayne replied with a nod. “Good. We’ll get you food in the village, then send you off. You’ll be safe, I’m sure. My little sister has always been able to hold her own,” he teased lightly. At fourteen he was still a boy, but acted so much like a man that Velrayne could scarcely believe the few short years that had passed since they’d played as children. As they grew older, Rheian had come to love his sisters with a fierce passion. While Atistre comforted and healed them, Rheian was first to fight for them, using fists and steel to protect them. Velrayne was only eleven herself, but more often than not, felt like a woman grown already. It made her sad, to think that perhaps she’d lived her childhood through at so young an age.

“Let’s go. I don’t want Mother or Father catching us and realizing I mean to run away,” she said, fingers toying with the strap of her bag nervously. Rheian nodded and laced up his boots. He led her down the dusty dirt road into the village, and they walked leisurely, as if they weren’t both thrumming with nervous energy. Rheian left her at the stables out behind the blacksmith where he trained under the smith himself, with instructions on how to find Atistre. Velrayne threw her arms around his neck and held on tightly. “I’ll miss you, Rhei,” she whispered.

Rheian’s arms looped around her waist and he hugged her. “And I you. Now fly, little sister, our brother will take good care of you.” Velrayne nodded and mounted her horse, a sweet chestnut mare with a braided brown mane. Rheian gave the beast a light slap, enough to get her to go off at a brisk trot. Velrayne twisted to look at her brother one last time before facing forwards and digging in her heels, the mare taking off at a gallop.

Some hours later, it finally occurred to Velrayne that Rheian would be the one punished for her sudden flight, and she hoped that he could forgive her for the pain he would be dealt in her stead. Putting on a brave face, she resigned to thank him and beg forgiveness when they reunited, their family whole once more.


Velrayne found an inn at which to sleep that first night, and the homely matron had given her a hot meal of beef stew with hearty chunks of potato and vegetables in a thick gravy and half a loaf of bread to sop up the delicious liquid. With her belly warm and the butterflies within still fluttering anxiously, she slept rather easily. She was off the next morning after a sparse breakfast and a kiss to the matron who had taken care to see her fed, Velrayne and her mare were off again.

They arrived at a small town later that day, just as shadows began to grow during daylight’s last hours. She asked where the healer lived, with his sorceress wife, and was given directions to a fair-sized cottage on the outskirts of town. A stable boy with a broad, ugly face asked her incredulously who she was and why she was there. After all of his questions had been answered to his satisfaction, he helped her to dismount and led away her horse, telling her curtly where she could find his master and his master’s wife. She nodded and thanked him, then went inside.

“Velrayne? Oh dear sweet sister, it’s you,” called a cheerful voice from across the room. Her brother came running towards her, pulling her against him and kissing her hair when he got to her. “I’m so glad you made it alright. How was your journey?”

Velrayne beamed and hugged him. “It was fine. I only left yesterday, and I’ve eaten since, though I’m sore from riding. I’m not accustomed to going so far in such a short time,” she admitted sheepishly.

“You can take a hot bath, you’ll feel much better,” he suggested. “And once you do, you’ll meet Camidedrae, and his beautiful wife Amaltheia. They’ve been so good to me, and are excited to become acquainted with you as well.” Atistre grinned at her. Though Velrayne was sad to leave her other siblings, she had always loved Atistre dearest, and he looked happier than he had in so long. For the first time in months, Velrayne felt happiness swell within her, joy rising like a tidal wave. She agreed to his proposal and let him show her to the bathroom.

She drew her own bath and sank into the water, heating it with her thoughts as she submerged herself. She scrubbed away the past day’s worth of sweat and grime from her skin, scouring her pores until her body was pink. She could finally feel at ease. No more arguments between her parents, her mother crying and screaming over her lost, or dead, or non-existent daughter. Just her, her brother, and the two wonderful people who would teach them to master their art.

An hour later, Velrayne was dressed in a clean dress of deep green that brought out the sapphire blues of her eyes, her bushy hair tamed and tied back in a hurried braid. She thought herself presentable and went in search of her brother so he could introduce her to the people who were housing and teaching them. “Atistre?” She called out. Moments later, she heard light footfalls and then her brother appeared before her.

“You’re a vision, little sister. Come, we were just sitting down to sup, join us,” he invited brightly, leading her through the house to the yard behind the cottage. A reasonably sized wooden table sat closest to the house, where people who must have been Camidedrae and Amaltheia sat. The ground was mostly dirt with sparse, thin grass, littered with targets that had taken a fair beating. Beyond the training yard, barren earth turned to lush meadow and finally to a thick grove of trees off in the distance.

“Sweet girl, how lovely you are,” cooed the woman, her voice all honey, and just as warm. She beckoned for Velrayne to sit beside her. Happy to oblige, Velrayne took the place beside the woman, who must’ve been at least fifty, yet still had quick, lively eyes and Velrayne suspected her body and mind were just as sharp. Wrinkled, yet soft hands closed around Velrayne’s own, and light crows feet crinkled around the corners of her eyes as she smiled. “We’ve heard of you endlessly since Atistre arrived. He’s so terribly fond of his little sister.” Velrayne blushed. “Now, my husband is the healer here, and has taken it upon himself to take your handsome older brother under his wing. But I was a fighter, and always shall be. So you and I, we’ll truly have fun. Just us girls.” She had a laugh like melting snow and silver bells, as if she were spring incarnate and had never known a day of sorrow in her life.

Her husband, who had been silent, finally spoke up. “It seems Amaltheia is already quite taken with you,” he noted, amused. “I wish you the best, child. Please, share our food and our home. You’re to be the grandchildren we never had.”

Velrayne accepted graciously and tucked into the meal before her, happy to have a proper family of her own, finally. She elected to ignore Camidedrae’s ever so slightly off-putting remark of having never had grandchildren. It was bound to be a story too somber for what ought be a gleeful joining, so she celebrated and played the part of the dutiful daughter.

That night, she slept fitfully. When hours passed and she had still not been able to stay asleep, she crept into her brother’s room and quietly climbed into his bed. His arm went around her and she pressed her ear to his chest, listening to the beating of his heart and feeling his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. All signs of his health, his being alive and with Velrayne, where he belonged. Wherever he was, Velrayne would want nothing more than to be with him. He was her heart, she knew. She had been told the stories of souls like those of hers and her brother’s. They would be tied together forever, far beyond the relationship of siblings, family members, friends. Where she was death, he was life.

But Velrayne never heard the ends of the tales that spoke of such pure love. A bond so profound was not without its consequences. So as Velrayne grew, as did the fire within her, the death and destruction she represented. The end of all things. And though Atistre gave her life, Velrayne’s life would be the death of him.
Velrayne: Chapter One
A story of a girl having adventures. 
It all starts with magic, as many things do, and in this first chapter, the stage is set.

Mature Content

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Tired. So tired. All the doctors say I should sleep, that staying awake is what’s killing me. So should I just sleep now? Is to safe to let my mind explore the dark recesses inside of me that whisper cruel things, hateful things, sadistic, masochistic, terrible things to my subconscious? ‘Kill or be killed,’ it says to me.

Kill them all or kill myself. But the question is, do I want to die?

I watched her die, you know. And it wasn’t an accident. No, it wasn’t some car crash or terminal illness that took her life. It was a different kind of sick that stole her away from me.

She was young, so young. We both were. And they killed her. I don’t just mean the voices in her head, but the people who put them there. They called her a freak, she was always too fat or too skinny, never just right and never good enough for them. She was always alone, except for me.

I wasn’t enough. She didn’t think that having me meant anything. I want to be angry at her, tell her I hate her for it, but I can’t. She was all I had, too. But she was enough for me. Soon she stopped leaving the house, except to go to her therapist - twice a week, with bi-monthly electroshock therapy. They fried her brain, made her see things, hear things that weren’t really there.

And the things she did…

She let red bloom along her forearms like sick flowers,  let it flow down from her thighs as macabre waterfalls of sticky-sweet pain. She hacked off her hair and sliced off her skin, slowly suffocating her own humanity.  The writing was on the wall. Literally.

Simply a way out; to be in a
Utopia where you are
Invincible, not invisible.
Can you even bear to
Imagine living any more?
Don’t lie; we all know it’s
Easier to just give in.

'Suicide'. An acrostic poem written on the wall in thick black sharpie, every letter an angry slash against the wall, mimicking the dark red lines that littered her perfect, perfect skin.

I didn’t want her to die! Not like that, not at all! I loved her, I loved her, I loved her!

I’m in love with a ghost. A ghost who never loved me. I think a part of  her hated me for what I was to her. I was all she had and she hated me for it, terribly. I only stayed because I was too obsessed with her to leave her. She only stayed because she was too obsessed with the rest of the world to remember to leave me.

A pair of screw-ups. That’s what we were. We were puzzle pieces that had been put in with the wrong sets. Defects. And we were poisonous. So bad for each other. After the doctor, she was on pills all the time. So drugged up she rarely acknowledged my existence. And when she did remember who I was, she stayed up with me all night, her hand in mine, as we whispered secrets in the dark.
She wrote something for me, once, when her mind was clear enough to remember how.

She said to me,
'Kids can be cruel
She knows all too well
It’s lies they hold sacred
And secrets they sell
They called her every name
They all hurt they all stung
They leered and they jeered
Let her sad song go unsung
So secret friends told her secrets
That were kept in the dark
They weren’t real in daylight
Her room bare and stark
It always felt empty
Like there was nothing inside
She had no place to run
There was no place to hide
Because kids are cruel
They’d find her, she knew
They’d yell all the old things
And a few new ones, too
She was broken, misplaced
Puzzle piece, but wrong set
They told her ‘Get over it.’
But she’d never forget
Who forgets all that misery?
Who forgets all the tears?
How can you forget all that anger?
Let go of those fears?
She loved her fairytales
Breadcrumb paths lined with hope
And perfect glass slippers
They all helped her cope
But crumbs were consumed
And children would die
Glass always shattered
And step-daughters would cry
So she built up her world
Every time it was crushed
And she held her tongue
Every time she was hushed
Broken up, beaten down
She’s got a life but barely
There are moments where she isn’t sad
There are moments, but rarely
They tell her she’s weak
But she’s stronger than any of them
She wants to find a solution to herself
Because really she’s just a problem
She’s going crazy, it drives her mad
Slowly slipping, going insane
Everything hurts and nothing helps
She’s living with poison in her veins
Kids are cruel, they put her there
Shot her up and watched her fall
And all this time, she’s never landed
She’s not sure she wants to, after all
Everything bubbles beneath her skin
It steeps in her boiling blood
She’s holding it in but not for long
In no time there’ll be a flood
She’s sweating rage and bleeding fear
Tear-stained pillows soaked with love she’s never given
Silently she hates the world
For everything unforgiven
Everything hurts
Day after wretched day
She barely presses on
And nothing’s okay
How it must hurt
Oh how does it feel
To feel empty inside
To be broken but never heal?
It’s not that easy
It hurts to watch her try
To pretend she’s in this fantasy
That’s not enough to get her by
So she drowns
And she’s forgotten how to swim
Not that she wants to anyway
Bobbing just beneath the rim
Her screams are silenced
Her tears are drunk
Swallowed by the water as she loses herself
Piece by piece, chunk by chunk
She’s crying out
But no one cares
No one ever cares.’

I asked her if she was talking about herself, but by the time she’d finished speaking, her eyes had glazed over with her lithium-induced state of grey zombification. There were neither highs nor lows as she stared into the abyss and the abyss stared back, its vicious maw dripping with her blood.

What would it be like? To follow her down? Would she be waiting for me? Would she finally be happy? I don’t know, I just don’t know and it’s eating me up inside.

You know,
Last words
Are so very heavy
The weight of a life
On what ought mean nothing
But doubly so
When the life has been a pointless one
Empty accomplishments bleed together
To paint a mural of nothingness
The ink is a gift
But the words that spill
Are a death sentence.
Why love
When we can do absolutely nothing
No sorrow
No anger
No pain
Just emptiness
A nothingness that throbs
And courses through your veins
Like a poisonous drug
Of the deadliest kind
There’s no happily ever after
To this tragic comedy
Let’s hurt her again
It was oh so
Last time.
But this IS the last time
First rule
Everyone lies
Because in this nothingness
In this empty void
Where once I was HAPPY
Where once I was REAL
In this empty heart
Where once I was LOVED
Where once I FELT loved
In this empty head
Where once inspiration DANCED
Where once I was FREE

She’s a ghost now, but without her, I am too. I’m a shell. I have been for months. When they found her,  she was lying face-down in her bathtub, lungs filled with her own blood as she drowned in the thing that kept her alive. She bled herself dry and bathed in the violent glory of what she had done. But even before that, even before I was aware of my heart splintering inside my chest, piercing my organs and leaving me to bleed in, suffocate under the pressure of syrupy crimson weighing down on my insides, I was gone.

The day we met, I was done for. And ever since, I’ve been a ghost.

I don’t know why I lived, even after it all. Maybe I died. Maybe I’m just hovering in a fixed point of eternal limbo, here in a Hell of my own sick imagination.

I don’t know. I just don’t know any more. All I know, for certain, is that I wanted to die. But then I found her suicide note. I didn’t dare hope that there would even be one. But there it was, and it was the last shard of a shattered sanity, ink spilled on to paper, and it gave me some hope that her death might have been the only thing to truly put her at peace. And I thought, in the moments that I read her last words, blue staining my fingers, laving traces of fingerprints on the crumpled paper that she signed to me, and me alone, that maybe we were both real, once upon a time.

'Death is morbid.
Some call it cruel.
But whether you find it painful
Or forgiving
Death is simply life.
Making room for the young to grow
Death is not misery
It is a celebration
Of every victory, every triumph;
And a pardon
For every mistake, every accident.
And yes it still hurts
To feel the loss
The severed bond
Like a severed nerve
It hurts
And it’s so difficult
But you’ll live
Once you cauterize the wound
You’ll live
Because this is not the time
For giving up
Just remember that I lived
And don’t you dare
Stop trying.’

So I haven’t. I’m still not convinced that I won’t die young, looking down the barrel of a loaded gun. I don’t know that I won’t end up eating lead and bleeding out, but for now, I’m alive. Because she asked me to. Because after everything that happened to us, after everything we went through, she asked me to live.

So here I am, and I am alive.
A Study In The Downward Spiral
A project for a prompt regarding exploration of one's inner darkness. 
About a boy who recalls the depression and subsequent suicide of his best friend.
The poetry is taken from my own personal journals, during times when I wasn't holding up so well. 
Sweet Boy by lifeandwarriors
Sweet Boy
More of Wayne 
(This is the last of the pictures, I promise d: )
Feral Sweetheart by lifeandwarriors
Feral Sweetheart
He hissed and swatted at anyone who came near him when he first got into the shelter, but by the time I was done with him, he was one of the most affectionate cats I've ever known :) 
Wayne by lifeandwarriors
Adding more pictures of my boy Wayne because why not?


United States
Hey everyone! My name is Elise, and I'm an aspiring author, poet, artist, and veterinarian.

I'm a big fan of music; I'm especially fond of I Fight Dragons, Steam-Powered Giraffe, Fall Out Boy, and Death Cab For Cutie, but there's a lot more out there that I love as well.

These days I'm really into Steven Universe, and will eventually get around to posting pictures of my Rose Quartz cosplay.

I love anime and am constantly starting new series and if you have a recommendation, please do let me know. I like fluffy rom-com stuff as well as the more intense violence/gorey ones (like Parasyte, Tokyo Ghoul, Psycho Pass, etc.)

I love to talk and meet new people, so don't hesitate to say hello!

Journal History

  • Mood: Optimism
I've changed a lot, these past few years. I'm going to be submitting a lot of my more recent art and stories, and I hope that I can connect to some of my old fans as well as make some new ones. Feel free to stop by and chat whenever, as I'd love to get to know anyone interested in me and my work. I'm 16 now, just finished my sophomore year of high school, and I'm spending my summer in Cambridge studying biotechnology Brown University (where I hope to go for college) studying bacteriology and gender in psychology. I like to think that I've matured a lot since I was last active here, and I'm fairly certain I've grown (at least in quality of art and writing), but I promise I'm still a lot of fun. I look forward to being more active here again!

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Warriorsrpgmembah Featured By Owner May 1, 2015  Student Writer
happy birfday
lifeandwarriors Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2015
I haven't been on dA in forever so forgive me, but thank you so much! n.n
RAGINGWALRUS Featured By Owner May 1, 2013
Happy birthday!
AvianArsenic Featured By Owner Apr 26, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
Hey, would you like to join ScarClan, a traditional Warriors RP? :iconscar-clan:
Deerspirit123 Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Tagged: [link]
GamerDudeArt Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Hello there, Life.
I see you've changed your icon.
And I approve.
Warriorsrpgmembah Featured By Owner Jun 15, 2012  Student Writer

Ibilicious Featured By Owner May 27, 2012
:iconranranruuplz: Thanks a lot for the :+fav: on my Fuck this! Onionhead Stamp! :glomp:
TechKitten Featured By Owner May 12, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you so much for the fave! :iconthankyouplz:
lifeandwarriors Featured By Owner May 12, 2012
hehe youre welcome! :D
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