Gangle Digital Circus Fanart Novels & Stories

"Take this pink ribbon off my eyes I'm exposed And it's no big surprise Don't you think I know Exactly where I stand This world is forcing me To hold your hand 'Cause I'm just a girl, little ol' me Well don't let me out of your sight Oh, I'm just a girl, all pretty and petite So don't let me have any rights Oh, I've had it up to here!" I paint vigorously as the song plays. I'm desperately trying to get the image out of my mind onto the canvas. My brush travels across his chiseled jawline. My colors hold his textured blonde color in a lock of hair that hung in his face while the rest was pulled back. My shadows play with the rippled muscles under his shirt. I let the music inspire me as I pai

See you in next chapters for fun and giggles. Gift for us... I got a fanart image for Banks & Eleanor. It's my current profile picture. Hope they look as imagined. Xie Xie

What did he call me? "I beg your pardon?" The music is loud, so maybe I didn't hear him right. My heart's beating ultra fast and I'm freaking out, but as always, I keep my expression neutral. Did he just call my name? That's impossible. I don't even know him. He's tanned and a head taller than me. He's slim, and his hair is long. It frames his face and blends well with his trimmed beard, making him look like some kind of animal, a wolf. He has an eyebrow ring. He's holding a flute, and from what I can see, his knuckles are tattooed. His whole hand is tattooed. "I said a million," he repeats, louder this time. "That's how much this whole party is going to cost Jack Huntington. A million fucki

With a quick glance around, I casually made my way to the parking lot, my heart pounding with excitement. A few students were nearby, but no one was paying attention to me. Perfect. Reaching Tyson’s bike, I pulled my bag around and retrieved the supplies—two full rolls of industrial-strength plastic wrap and a giant container of glitter. Working fast, I looped the plastic wrap around the bike, layering it over the handlebars, seat and wheels until the entire thing was trapped like a wrapped-up sandwich. Then came the best part. I popped open the container and showered the bike in a thick coat of fine, shimmering glitter. It clung to the plastic, the metal, even the tires—ensuring that no mat

All I could see was blood, blood,blood. The leader of the gang who I hung on tree came last as he saw me almost lifeless on the ground, he started laughing and was happy that I would soon die and I felt like I could hear what he was thinking. The laughter within him made him unconscious of his environment, a long piece of piece of metal was thrown through his stomach and he laughed his last. I looked up and found someone trying to carry me up. I chuckled and fainted.