|I'm an artist. And this is me. The Illistrated me, the un-me.|
FNAF FUNKO MYSTERY MINIS FOR SALE OR TRADESORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO LIST, BUT LIFE GOT IN THE WAY)FNAF FUNKO MYSTERY MINIS FOR SALE OR TRADE by Tesla51
In my path of collecting FNAF Mystery Mini Funko figs, I've come across repeats. I've managed to trade my unwanted characters for others that I wish to get. I've traded two of them for others (a Puppet and a Springtrap). Now I have three I'm selling on Ebay (2 Bonnies and 1 Puppet)
If you are interested, please follow the links provided. Thank you!
I'm just an artist. In this insane world. I draw furries, and I'm not ashamed of it. If you ever want to RP on one of my pieces or your own, I welcome it.
Huh, would have thought I was closer related to Twilight. Oh well, AJ's cool.
My DA Family
squirrel cousin who can't speak Japanese-
Current Residence: Somewhere in Arizona
Favourite genre of music: Classic Rock
Favourite cartoon character: Martha -Martha Speaks, Fifi Lafume -Tiny Toons, and Foxglove -Chip n' Dale Rescue Rangers
Personal Quote: Man is free at the moment he wishes to be. -Voltair
Where A Bird Once NestedWhere A Bird Once Nested
All of Bricksburg was cloaked in a sea of darkness the beautiful night had brought with the light glow of the approaching dawn just barely starting to show on the horizon. In his apartment, Emmet Brickowski laid peacefully. The Master Builder and his friends had only just finished in destroying the enemy force of Duplo aliens that had threatened the safety of the universe. All was right with the universe once more.
Suddenly came a sound that disturbed the minifigure’s rest. The rhythm of it made him figure it was his alarm clock beeping. He reached out and smacked the top with his clawed hand to silence it. But the sound came back a second later. He smacked it again, and still the sound continued. Emmet sat up quickly and glared at his clock.
“What is with you?” he angrily asked the inanimate object. Then it hit him it wasn’t his a
The Magic Lives On (MSB Story) It was something that really none of her class had ever expected. And really, even though neither of them had ever set foot in her class for the past nineteen years, they had always had secretly worried about this day. It all happened on the morning of September 12, 2012.
Arnold Pearlstein had just woken up from his deep sleep. The young red haired man had been away for the past month identifying the composition of lava flows in Hawaii, and had only arrived back in Walkerville the previous night. He fumbled around blindly until he found his glasses. As he walked past his open closet, a small sentence ran through his head as he looked at a yellow and white horizontal striped sweater hanging from an old coat hanger.
I should stay home today, he thought.
For a moment, he honestly didnt know why he thought that, and then he remembered