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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist Jess Danielle18/Female/United Kingdom Recent Activity
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If there’s anything you’ve learned in your time being with Brian Quinn, it’s that you love being his distraction. He’s doting, never leaves you hanging, but there are times when your craving for attention won’t wait for even the simplest of things. He never seems to get annoyed with you; just gives you that knowing smile and continues about his task, sometimes reaching out to give you a mock-pet on the head as if you’re one of his cats - and you don’t mind.

Lazily, your eyes scan over him as he talks on the phone. You’ve been waiting for him to come upstairs for at least twenty minutes now and you’re beginning to get restless. Still, you can’t quite bring yourself to be annoyed, watching how his mouth moves as he speaks, watching his hands twitch as he gestures for nobody to see. Watching his chest move as he breathes...

You can wait no more. Getting to your feet, you move to sit next to him on the couch, tuning out his conversation and placing a hand to his shoulder. Q jumps slightly, having not expected to be touched. Eyes lower flirtatiously as your hand travels down his arm, tracing his bicep with a curious finger. The long-haired male averts his gaze to you, brow dipping slightly before he weakens under your wandering finger as it trails from bicep to his thigh.

“Yeah, Joe-- I’ll be there. The Shack, right?”

Dark brown eyes flit from the hand on his thigh to your face. He should be concentrating on discussing the meet-up at the doughnut store with his friend the following day... but you’re leaning in, teeth catching his earlobe and nibbling whilst your palm flattens against him and it takes so much effort not to stammer--

“Bud? You still there?”

It’s Joe’s voice you hear over the phone and, while Q gives you a pleading look as you palm him through his jeans, all you do is grin wickedly and give him a playful wink. Go ahead, Joker, finish your phone-call.

“Uh-- y-yeah, yeah. I just-- yeah.”

Q’s eyes slip closed as you begin to fumble with the button of his jeans, slipping down to your knees and sinking between his legs. If there’s anything you want, it’s to watch him squirm in place of moaning - and the look in your eyes had said it all: hang up and I stop.

Hands deftly tug at his pants, pulling them down his legs (he assists you by raising his body to let them down to his ankles). You feel his hardness through his boxers, run your finger down the stiff length and lick your lips as you consider everything you can do to him. You free him of his underwear.. Teasingly, you bring your lips to his tip, and ghost your mouth over it, tongue flicking over the slit at the top; the taste of precum gives you a thrill that can’t be beaten.

Brian continues to talk on the phone, a hand making its way to your head, fingers tangling in your soft [H/C] hair and urging you to do more. Complying, your mouth coats his hard length all the way to the base, the urge to gag imminent yet you remain silent in the hopes of pleasing him further. On your ascent for breath, you drag your tongue up his shaft and raise a hand to pump him as you submerge yourself in the tip once more. Your head goes through simple up-and-down motions, sucking him hard while he bites his lip to stay quiet.

He looks at you, eyes burning, hand gripping tightly... and then he’s up on his feet, sending you sprawling backwards; you climb right back up, wrap your arms around his thighs and reattach yourself to his throbbing member, desperate to please him once more. The hand in your hair is reassigned, tugging enough to make a moan leave your throat before he begins thrusting into your mouth at a breakneck pace. The sound of him almost forcing his way in - yet no complaints from you - makes you wetter than you already are, a free hand dipping between your legs and beginning to stroke your entrance. Eyes slip closed and you can hear the triumph in Brian’s voice as he continues to talk to the other Joker.

“Yeah - all right. Twenty dollars’ll cover it, man?”

An attempt to smile on your behalf leaves you gasping for breath for Q isn’t stopping any time soon. Crudely put, he’s fucking your mouth as if it’s the last time he’ll ever get to do it, all frenzy and primitive possession as his eyes glaze over with lascivious intent. God, you want him - this has to be one of the best decisions you’ve ever made in terms of getting him going. The hard length in your mouth... you want it inside of you as soon as possible.

The Joker’s movement begin to falter, more harsh and jerky and you know what’s about to happen, eyes squeezing shut as you prepare yourself to take it all. It’s all you want; the taste of him, the very essence of his being... you want every single bit and you want it now. With the ghost of a pant in his voice, the man looks down at you and grins sharply.

“No problem, Joey. I’m coming.”

You’ve never heard such a glorious double-meaning in your life, for no sooner had he said the sentence has he exploded in your mouth, thick hot load covering it thoroughly, a tiny grunt escaping him (which he passes off as a clear of the throat when Joe asks about it). You swallow hard, wanting to get it all down you, and find that Q doesn’t release you until you prove to him that it’s all ‘disposed of’. When he’s satisfied, he releases you and nods, sitting down on the couch while you get up and sit next to him, resting your head against his shoulder while you squeeze your thighs together.

This time his fingers are wandering, dancing across the skin of your arm before he laces his fingers with yours and says goodbye to his friend. Silence hits you like a brick - and then the jingle of laughter from your lover loosens you up all over again, as if it’s the first time you’ve heard such a beautiful sound, before he leans over and kisses you square on the mouth.

“Man, you’re really something.” Brian chuckles, teeth showing as he begins to grin at you. Fingers slip between your thighs, his brow raising. “...I feel I owe you a favour or two, babe.”
“Stop with the puppy-eyes, man.”

It’s been this way for several minutes now, with you on your knees in front of the Joker, hands resting on his while you look up at him pleadingly. There are many things you want from Joe Gatto... but this time it’s just his doughnut.

“Aww, c’mon, Joey!” You plead, tilting your head and resting it on your hands that are settled on his knees. He gives you an unimpressed look, brows raising while his mouth, stuffed to the brim with his snack, forms a thin line. You just pout and flutter your lashes in a way you know he thinks is adorable, even though you’re just mocking him. “You have another three doughnuts. I can see them.”

“I have another three bellies to feed.”

Joe gestures to his stomach, rubbing it with his palm and you can’t help but snigger... if only you could be as accepting of your body as he is with his. When all is said and done though, you’re not going to allow him to make jibes at himself at the expense of your humour so you soften and reach a hand to pat at his tummy also, an encouraging smile on your face.

“Just a half?”

He seems to debate for a while, eyes shifting to look down and to the left; you try desperately to catch them, to guiltily lose yourself in that brilliant blue gaze-- but it seems he’s caught on to your puppy-dog tactics and is no longer accommodating them for he avoids eye contact with you... before sighing and offering you the half-eaten doughnut in his hand.

Triumph overtakes your thoughts as you snag the treat, all but cramming it into your mouth so that he can’t change his mind. A tense silence passes, one in which he does nothing but stare at you in disbelief... before he laughs hard, the sudden sound filling your ears. He’s loud - but you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Holy shit! I gave it--!” Joe exclaims through belly laughter. “Oh, man...”

You just grin sheepishly, tilting your head as you chew the doughnut with a lot of effort. It’s difficult to chew with your mouth so full, even more difficult to breathe, but since it’s made him laugh and you’ve gotten a treat out of it, it’s totally fine. You accept it.

Once you manage to swallow the doughnut down, you flash him a smug smirk. “Tastes good.”

“You missed a spot.” Joe doesn’t elaborate, just reaches a finger forwards and swipes icing from your nose. Blinking, a giggle passes the confines of your lips... before you lean forwards with speed unlike your own, taking the Joker’s finger into your mouth and sucking the icing. He doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a stare that’s a little too focused to be meager speculation, eyes locking onto the motions you’re making with your mouth before you pull away with a ‘pop!’ of his fingers.

“Like I said, tastes good.”

There’s seldom a time that the Joe Gatto is rendered speechless - but this is certainly one of them. For approximately five seconds, not a single thing about him twitches. However, when he appears to recollect himself, build his resolve with the futility of making a house of cards in a blizzard, he smirks.

“Might be offerin’ more some time.” he comments off-handedly, staring down at you. You resume your original position, dart your tongue across your lips and rest your head on his knee, shrugging comically.

“I might just take you up on that.”
Joe x Reader - Snackages
Because Joe Gatto is unappreciated as FUCK (and is actually my favourite, tied with Murr).

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Your hand comes to rest against his back as he rubs his hands furiously beneath the hot water. You have to admit, the punishment set up for him had been genius: making him bury himself in trash to find his phone only to reveal that he’d been sent out to sea in the time he’d been scouring desperately.

“Assholes,” Sal hisses venomously under his breath and you barely flinch as he holds his hand out expectantly for you know what he wants. A hand delves into the pocket of the jacket you’re wearing and pulls out a bottle of hand-sanitiser, squirting a generous helping onto his hand and watching as he resumes his cleaning. Once he’s done with that, he grunts and puts his hands back under the water.

You notice the skin of his hands beginning to turn red, steaming red, as if it’s about to peel off due to the heat it’s being exposed to.


The Joker doesn’t regard you, just focuses on his breathing. He closes his eyes with impatience when he feels your hand reach up and squeeze lightly at the back of his neck; he hates that because it brings him back to earth and sometimes he prefers being locked up in his clean little bubble when things get too messy; mostly he hates it because you always know when it’s necessary.

“Sal, stop.”

Silence pervades the air, only broken by the hammering of the hot water against the sink. Carefully, your hand reaches for one of his and guides it away (you wince at how warm it is), fingers slipping deftly over plastic and turning the tap until the beating drum against the inside of the sink stops completely. Reaching behind you, a hand locks around fluffy fabric and passes it to the stressed out male, his hands enclosing around it in return. The towel is short-lived but effective in drying his skin.

“You’re all right.”

“I’m good.”

His short sentences leave something to be desired and that stony stare definitely isn’t welcoming. Briefly, you consider what had happened to make this way. Surely somebody couldn’t be born with such disgust for germs without some form of fear being instilled in them from a young age... or a raging case of OCD? Either way, it hurts you to have to see him in such distress.

Saying nothing, you lead him out of the kitchen and guide him to the couch by his hands, still worried at how hot-to-the-touch they are as you both sit, him looking more blank than you care to think about. He doesn’t speak to you, just swallows hard and collects his bearings; and you respect that, slowly releasing his hands and letting him sit alone. Or at least you would have had he not re-taken them and given them a squeeze. A smile slowly stretches across your face.

“Thanks. For staying with me back there. I’m used to having the guys mess with me like this but... it doesn’t make it any easier.”

Without thinking about it, you raise one of his hands to your lips and press a gentle kiss to it, looking through your lashes to meet his eyes. He’s staring at you, swallowing thickly before inhaling purposefully through his mouth, lips parting as if he’s about to say something... before he decides against it, instead leaning closer to you and giving you a hesitant kiss. You return it, of course you do, all gentle breaths and soft pecks as you shuffle closer to his side of the couch and let his hands brush over your face and hold it. The heat isn’t quite as unbearable now, has faded into a comfortable warmth as the burn cools.

A soft ‘mm...’ leaves your lips when he pulls away to breathe, his mouth still ghosting yours as you sit there with your eyes closed, enraptured by the taste of him. Sal has never been easy to cope with, with his many phobias and his otherwise ‘uptight’ (when it comes to being comfortable within his own space) persona; it is something that leaves you frustrated sometimes... but it’s what makes him him and you love it all in the end.

“...I’d like to do that again.” Sal breathes quietly, lips moving against yours while the words  burn you from the inside out, setting your core alight and leaving you all but whimpering as he pulls you in again and kisses you more confidently than before, mouths meshing together firmly with the beginnings of tongue poking through. You move further towards him, picking yourself up onto your knees and keening as you feel the Joker twist his body to meet you. “...ah, yeah... come here, [Y/N].”

You rest against his body, feeling pudgy firmness meld against you as his hands slip beneath your shirt and begin to caress the skin of your back as your kisses intensify. Laying atop him, you can feel Sal’s hard breathing, can feel the pound of his pulse beneath your tongue as you divert from his lips and attack his neck with kisses and bites to which he makes small noises of appreciation and strokes down your back and over the curve of your rear. He’s beginning to forget the gross aspects of his punishment, instead revelling in the soft feel of you.

Hands flutter down his front, unbuttoning his shirt, and the Joker doesn’t stop you; in fact, with the look he’s giving you, all smouldering and keen, he’s urging you on. When his front is exposed, you trail your hands over his skin and watch his eyes slip closed, breathing a little more shallow as he considers what you’re going to do to him. Such thoughts have also evoked a noticeable bulge in the front of his pants, one that makes you snicker and grin with triumph as you run your palm over it and listen to his sharp intake of breath.

His hands remove your shirt with little more than a puff of effort, hand around the back of your neck guiding you down for a kiss before his hands begin to fondle your breasts. You mewl with pleasure as Sal tends to you, bra slipped off in one skilful flick of his fingers before his mouth comes to close around a nipple, sucking generously. Faltering, the only thing you can think to do is support yourself with your hands on his shoulders - until you feel the Joker move, sitting up so that he is hosting your weight. In a crazy turn of events, you find yourself on your back and staring up at him, his face reduced to a smirk you would find sleazy on anybody but him, his mouth resuming its work and making your body arch up against his. Hips strive to mesh with his and you feel the intimacy of your groins grinding together as hands busy themselves on him, one running down his back and eventually reaching his belt while the other buries itself in his once-neat hair and tugs as you moan quietly.

“Fuck, [Y/N]...” Sal mouths hotly, kisses being trailed down your stomach as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and guides them down your legs, underwear being taken along with them. Fully exposed, you shift to try and hide yourself beneath him; the man takes your arm away, kisses your wrist as he nods at you. “No need to hide from me. You look perfect.”

In the interval in which Sal has stopped to stare at you, you have worked his belt from around his waist and are currently in the process of feeling him. A shuddering breath leaves the Joker’s mouth as you palm at his front before pulling his underwear down his legs (which he shakes the rest of the way off on his own), erection springing free. You lick your lips, unable to stop yourself, before wrapping a hand around his length and pumping it, watching as his arms - the only leverage he has above you - quiver and his brow furrows with concentration as he chases the pleasure you’re granting him.

“Sal... please... “

There isn’t much else you can bring yourself to say, too desperate to feel him inside of you to really understand the effects of communication any more. Your vision is hazy, so fuzzy, everything zoned out except for him and his face and his nod as he shifts his hips and enters you slowly, causing you to cling on tightly to him and bury your face in his shoulder.

Sal waits. He waits for you to adjust, waits for you to give him some sign that you’re doing fine - and he receives it in the form of a tiny nod and equally tiny syllables that make up ‘y-you can move now...’.

The male certainly doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling out of you only to jut his hips forth and enter you to the hilt once more. All but spasming beneath him, you reach blindly for his face and guide him towards you, kissing him hard once the pair of you meet. A sound of guttural pleasure passes from his lungs to yours, the sound filling your mouth and your brain as you feel a thin sheen of sweat beginning to build between your bodies.

It isn’t surprising that he has you calling out for him; sometimes his name is cried out to the high heavens while other times you are so far gone that you can’t even figure out what to do with yourself, the only thing passing your lips being pleased moans as you move your hips to meet this thrusts. By far, the sound that has your attention is the low groans coming from Sal as he gradually begins to come closer to the edge. You’re both getting there, both completely entranced and he gives you an adorable smile as he watches you reaching your limit the more he pounds into you, rhythm increasing until you can’t take it any more--

“S--Sal! I’m gonna--!”

He shushes you with his lips and it doesn’t even occur to him that you’re orgasming on his couch for the cry of his name and the tight grip of your fingers keeps him from doing so. He keeps moving even after you’ve finished, helping you ride out your high before he succumbs to the feeling of your previous convulsions and releases himself into you.

Sal manages to move to the side before he collapses onto the couch, heavy breathing from the pair of you the only sound filling the air as he relocates your body in the plush and holds you close to him. With eyes as heavy as grass weighed down by morning dew, you lay there and press your body against his, taking comfort in the snug formation as you toy with his fingers. When breathing comes somewhat normal to you once more, you dare to break the silence.


A husky chuckle from beside you makes you grin a lop-sided grin. “Wow is right, girl. You should probably help me out with my ‘germaphobia’ more often...”
Sal x Reader - Germaphobia
Request done on Tumblr. Smut for the win, am I right (I'm right, don't even try and fight me).

I do take requests - have a look at my journal for more info.
Sitting in between Brian’s legs with his cat on your lap whilst he plays his video game is something you’ve become accustomed to the longer you spend time together. He seems content to just have you there, fingers mashing buttons and, in between levels or bathroom breaks, he’ll press his lips to your head or your cheek or your neck and then begin playing again. It’s enough for you - it always has been. After all, you like video games too.

It has been a little over two and a half hours of gaming when Q slowly puts the controller down and stares blankly ahead of him. The halt in button-mashing grabs your attention, makes you avert your gaze from the sleeping Benjamin in your lap and look up at him with those large [E/C] eyes of yours.

“...Q?” You dare to ask, shifting in his lap. He barely registers your speech, just looks down with solitary quietness that makes you worry. Because, for somebody who has overcome so much, he’s an upbeat guy; never wears a frown for too long. “...are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah-- I’m good. Just...”

The sentence lingers in the air before dissipating into nothingness. Eyes squeeze shut for a moment in apology before you move the napping cat from your legs - causing him to wake up and mewl with discomfort - and place him on the ground. Your body is turning to look at the man before you can even consider what you’re doing.

“Just what?”

For a moment, Brian remains quiet. “...I just... think I should be doing something, you know? Playing video games day in and day out... it’s fun but where’s the time going...?”

Thoughts mesh together in your head, leave you curious as you consider the Joker’s train of thought. Doesn’t he realise that he already does so much more with his life than most people ever will? He makes people laugh, makes them happy-- and hell, he makes you happy. Without the once-irritating bashing of buttons the apartment you share feels empty, resembles a graveyard with souls long-gone. It isn’t right.

“Brian,” you say, a hand moving to press against his cheek. The man blinks at the touch, as if it still surprises him, before he relaxes into it and looks down at you with large, overtly sad, brown eyes. A weak smile appears on his face though effort strains the corners of it, the creases under his eyes signifying that it isn’t a real one. “If you’re having fun then it’s time well-spent.”

The male tries his damnedest to look convinced.

“Q, it’s fine - you already do so much with your life. Making other people happy and being with your lifelong friends-- a moment is never wasted.”

The Joker bites his lower lip, thinks about your words. Does he really make that much of a difference? Before he can consider anything more, his lips are captured in a sweet kiss as you re-adjust on his lap and delve your fingers through his thick, dark hair. The attention you grant him, all tongue and soft strokes with the pads of your fingers as his beard lightly scratches your chin , is enough to make the man weak, mind forgetting time and hands mapping out your body once more. That’s something he’ll never forget.

The hands on the side of his face travel, flit from his skin to his clothed shoulders and rubbing at them provocatively, as if trying to ease fabric away with the very desire to do so. His controller is shunted from beside him, knocked to the floor as you begin to kiss more deeply, hands exploring one another with intent. Q suddenly diverts from your lips, nips your neck and feels the essence of your life beneath his tongue as he sucks on your pulse point, leaving you breathless and pressing against his body with a rekindled fire in the pit of your stomach as large hands rake through your hair and tug it enough to make a tiny sound leave your throat. You want more--

--but you’ve always been a tease.

“Okay,” you say shakily, getting up from his lap and moving away - and for a moment, Brian is worried, considers the fact that he hasn’t satisfied you all too possible, but you’re back to him in seconds and holding the second controller, a confident grin forming on your face as your tussled hair provokes a smile from the other. “I want to play with you.”

The air is somewhat tense then, a layer of competition thickening it like paint and the steady smirk that appears on Q’s face is enough to make you smirk back. It’s good to see his fire, always beautiful to watch the life in his eyes light up; and it’s done by such simple means because, really, Brian is a simple man and all he wants is to be happy. You grant him that, make him feel more grounded when everything takes a dreary dip into existentialism.

Q retrieves his controller, devious grin replacing his smirk as he forgets all about his worries.

“Game on.”
Q x Reader - Healthy Competition
Request from tectoniics on Skype - hope it's all right for you, friend!

I take requests - read my journal entry to find out more.

You don’t have time to protest as he all but drags you into a sitting position in front of him, the male sitting on the couch while you rest between his legs. Eyes roll on their own accord but soon slip closed when you feel his hands in your hair.


It’s an attempted question, something that is lost in translation as your ability to receive information around you nullifies into something comparable to a hazy reverie. The pleasure he’s granting you just by stroking through your hair... it’s astounding, simply breathtaking, enough to make you want to pant with gratification. How he’d become so good is something you almost don’t dare explore for it makes you think about other things his hands can do and you have enough of those distractions without tempting them. Instead, you bite your lip and remain dutifully silent.

The Joker says nothing - but you can hear the smirk on his features all the same as he slows his motions and gives a light tug to your thick lockes, nails dragging firmly across your scalp and earning a rather prominent shudder from you. A moment of deliberation, a second of hesitation-- and then his voice finally punctures the air.

“Saw you were looking stressed today.”

Discomfort ignites in you for you don’t feel inclined to share anything. Sure, you have heavy thoughts sometimes - thoughts that bog you so far down in the dumps that, in all honesty, it’s hard to crawl out of them - but it doesn’t mean that you feel stressed. Do you? Maybe a little...

“Don’t be dumb,” you reply, a tiny laugh escaping your lips before melting into a shaky exhalation as his thumbs slip from your head and massage the back of your neck. Given how well-groomed he is, you can only assume that Murr knows a thing or two about pampering. Trying to solidify your resolve, a breath is taken to correct the tremor in your voice. “...I’m fine.”

“Less than convincing,” Murr comments, though pity seeps through the otherwise emotionless gripe and forces a tiny smile to appear on your features. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know? Relax - let loose a little and good ol’ Murr will work his magic.”

A laugh, more full and soulful, leaves your mouth. “Could you be any more off-putting?”

“I could take my socks off and put my toes on your inner thighs.”

“Point taken.”

For a short while, all that fills the room is the sound of your soft breaths and his fingers raking through your [h/c] hair; to say you’re slipping further and further into relaxation is the under-statement of the century for you can feel your body sinking against his leg as contentment overrides your system like one shot of alcohol too many. Euphoria is seldom achieved in humans, real euphoria, but this is so damn close that you pull away for fear of unravelling in front of the man, red colouring your cheeks to the point in which you don’t dare look at him.

“Thanks. For that,” you murmur, eyes averting to the ground. From in front of you, James chuckles, eyes watching you as you lean back and blink to regain orientation before he leans forwards in his seat on the couch and rests the palm of his hand against your face. His skin is warm, smooth against your cheek as you stare, uselessly stunned, into his eyes.

For a moment, nothing happens - and then the Joker leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, fingers stroking at your jaw before he releases you again. Pity outlines his features though it isn’t without an underlying tone of ‘I told you so’.

“No need to thank me - I want to help you, [Y/N]. Let me help more often.”

The smile that appears on his face has you smiling back despite your previous insecurities, so warm and genuine that you feel you have no choice but to melt in its presence. You’re far from useless but there isn’t much you wouldn’t do when faced with such a beautiful expression, all affection and love. Your hand raises to your cheek, palm grazing the area in which he’d previously held.

Murr X Reader - Head Massages
Because Impractical Jokers has taken over my life.

I take requests - read my journal to learn more.
I'm in a real Impractical Jokers funk right now but have zero ideas of my own so if you have any ideas at all - ranging from [Joker]xReader, [Joker]x[Joker], [Joker]Imagines - then go right ahead and request. Completely free, no charge or anything, your fee is your idea and that's it. 

So, help a writer out?
  • Mood: Thanks
  • Listening to: Trouble; Pink
  • Reading: Lies (Gone Series)
  • Watching: Parasyte


Jess Danielle
Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
United Kingdom
I moved accounts; my old account was yoshi-lover, which is severely outdated. I love Don't Starve, I adore Wilson and Maxwell, and I love to write and draw cartoons. I'm planning to update a lot more on here, whether it be fanfiction or fanart. I hope you like my work, and I'll be trying my best to get my name known again. Hopefully we can all still be pals. :)

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Journal History


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Magnnezium Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2015  Student General Artist
Happy birthday~
ThePastelHobbit Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
thanks for the fave~
catalin6 Featured By Owner May 18, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
things for the favorite, and don't forget to check out the video 2
Wolfiethepretzel Featured By Owner May 15, 2015
Thanks for the fave \ ( ° 3 ° ) /
AndromedaWaits Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:!
kevin190499 Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2014
Hey Agent! Happy Birthday! Are you enjoying it? ^^
Agent-Pumpkin Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you. 
kevin190499 Featured By Owner Oct 1, 2014
You're always welcome! I'm sorry I didn't wish it earlier today! >_<
an0nym0us-care Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2014
Dear Deviant

You're amazing, beautiful and talented in your own ways, nobody can stop you doing what you truly love. You make people happy, and they love you for that. Never change because this is who you are. You have things others don't have, so be proud and stand up. Don't let people bring you down. Don't think you are worthless, or no-one cares, because we do. We're right in front of you.

So look up, open those pretty eyes and smile. Because there's no-one else like you :) (Smile)

love ~


(this is not a chain mail, it is a special message meant for you, it is repeated over again to over deviants because typing a new one each time would take forever, and you might not get your love from us in time :) (Smile) )

(ps. if you ever want to talk to us about something, we're here and we care, so please don't hesitate <3 )
Agent-Pumpkin Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2014  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
I want to thank you. I really don't have much to say because I feel words kind of lose their meaning in comparison to the overwhelming sense of gratitude in my gut. But I do want you to know that I'm super grateful, as I just said. Thank you for taking time out of your day to try and convince me that things are going to be okay. It's not easy, and it will take more than that, but it would have taken even more so if you hadn't have come over and found me and sent me this message.

I'll read it when I need a good reminder too. Thank you ever so much.
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