falling down the rabbit hole ;; charm's closet

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falling down the rabbit hole ;; charm's closet

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 12:44 pm

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character boxes go to indefinite,.
rest of formatting goes to me.
all characters posted here belong to me.
do not steal any of them.
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══════════════════ ════
you're not in
▬▬▬ KANSAS
a n y m o r e
dorthy dear.
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alright, so basically this is the place i'm going to be keeping every little thing that pops into my head that i decide is worth saving. or, not worth saving. whateves, anyways, feel free to browse, comment [through pm that is], and so-on. i don't mind. you can ask for permission to use one of my forms, but only if you give me credit. but seriously guys, no stealing. i've worked my butt off turning these characters, stories, and whatever else i post here from a mindless fantasy into a beautiful reality. so if you can simply look, not touch, i invite you to buckle your seat belts and hang on to your hats to take a trip down my crazy rabbit hole... enjoy.


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the lights will guide you, or at least these will.

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 1:41 pm

      i happen to be interested in a lot of interesting interests. for instance, in such things as the never failing fact that you can always trust a dishonest man to be dishonest; honestly, it's the honest ones you have to watch out for. because you never know when they're going to do something incredibly... stupid.
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aaron the magnificent.

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 1:49 pm

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    ➲ aaron demitrius foster - eighteen - male

    ------>" Hi. Hey. Hello. Greetings. Aloha. Bonjour. Konichiwa. Shalom. Hola. G'day, mate. Guten tag. I'm Aaron, Aaron Demitrius Foster. To my friends, I'm known as Ace or Double A. Strange you say? Well, I'm kind of a theater geek... so there you go. In your case, however, I guess you can call me anything you want. I don't mind nicknames or petnames. Personally I think they're kind of fun- just as long as it's not insulting. Nonetheless, if you'd like to know the story behind my real name, I don't mind sharing. The name Aaron comes from the man who paired my father and my mother up. My dad also calls him his "bar angel". A; since the only reason my parents ever met was due to an incident the man purposely caused to where my mother and father had to speak to one other. B; my father never saw the man again after that night. It was as if he evaporated into thin air.
    ------>Anyways, I am eighteen years of age. In case you have doubts, I am indeed a boy. Male, bloke, hombre; no matter how you put it, I'll always be a boy. I was born on the seventeenth of August in Brooklyn, New York. Ten twenty-two p.m. "




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    ➲ brown hair - "different" eyes - tan skin

    ------>" So, you like what you see, hm? Its my enchanting sparkley eyes, or my shinning golden brown hair? Perhaps what attracts you is my near flawless beach-tanned skin. I am a surfer, you know. *smirks* Alright, alright, enough of that. Let me get real with you about my appearance.
    ------>I guess we can start from top and work our way down. My hair is classified as brown, but I believe its natural golden-blonde highlights should put it in a category all its own. I've grown it out to the perfect length. Not too short, not too long, but just right for me. More likely than not you'll find me running my fingers through my shaggy locks; sometimes in an effort to fix it, but honestly, its a messy perfection whether I do it up or not. Next are my eyes, which are... hard to explain. See, I have this thing call Heterochromia. Don't worry, it's not some terrible disease you can catch. Long story short, the genetic mutation make my eyes look like, well, this. Yep, that's right folks. My right eye is blue, and my left eye is brown. Pretty cool, huh? Don't lie, now you can't help but wish your genes were all screwed up too. Anyways, my skin seems to have been permanently kissed by the sun. Its nice and tan and I'm not complaining. Cali has a great way of keeping a guy the right shade of color. Speaking of my skin, I have a nice body build to go along with it. Standing at 6"1, I'm lean yet muscular. Gotta be to catch those waves!




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    ➲ charismatic - joking - artistic

    ------>" Charisma is not just for movie stars, you know. I'm a real people person, which can lead me to get a little loud sometimes. Luckily I stay respectful at the same time, so no need to worry I won't shut my trap when instructed. Consequently, being a social butterfly also means my friendliness is often mistaken for flirting. Please don't take it the wrong way when I do appear to be hitting on you ( if you are a girl ) because most likely I'm not. Its just my personality. I'm a real jokester. I love to make people laugh, including myself. I won't hesitate to pull a prank. Even a dangerous one. Hey, I'm still a boy after all. We do stupid stuff.
    ------>I want to say that I'm humble. Though, I'm not sure how to say that without sounding like I'm not. I try not to be biased toward myself or others. I defiantly believe in the phrase innocent until proven guilty. I mean, I really see no reason not to like a person until they prove there is indeed something not to like about them. So I'm nice to everyone. Besides that I'm pretty chill and laid-back. I would also say I'm generally pretty agreeable too. But that doesn't mean I wont refrain from arguing my opinion on something I believe in. I hate to see people sad, especially girls. It breaks my heart. When I do see an upset girl, I usually mosey on over and try to make them feel better. Same with guys, but you can only go so far in making a dude happy, ya know? "





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    ➲ from the east coast to the west

    " I originate from Boston, Massachusetts. That's right, east coast baby! Whoop whoop! I was born onto God's green earth by Maya May and Alexander James Foster. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.





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    ➲ maya and alexander foster - isabella foster

    words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.




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    ➲ impress him

    words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.


    this lovely form belongs to rain;
    form edits go to me
    the magnificent aaron foster belongs to me, so please do not steal
    face-claim is the talented zac efron
    these outstanding pictures go to their respective owners
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we're all just monsters hiding under the bed

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 1:52 pm

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    don't wish me happiness.
    i don't expect to be happy
    it's gotten beyond that, somehow
    instead,
    wish me courage and strength
    and a sense of humor.
    i will need them all

    female seventeen years old district seven token

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      who exactly am i ? They call me Cinder. Hardly anyone seems to realize its actually a nickname. My full name is Cindara ( sin-dar-ah ) Cross. I am seventeen years old, and I swear if you can't tell what my gender is I'll gouge your eyes out- since they appear to be useless anyways. If the splinters in my hands haven't given it away yet, I come from the district of lumber- District Seven.
      what precisely is my story ? So you want a history lesson, eh? Well, I started chopping wood when I was nine years old; knew how to use an axe much earlier than that. I was eleven when my father was killed on the job by a falling tree- a common occurrence in my district. My mother kind of let go of life after that. She said she didn't see any importance in living anymore- even for her own kids. After some serious lecturing from my brothers and I, my mom came to her senses a little bit. Though shes gotten back in the swing of things, she has never been the same since. Its like every time I look at her, all I see is emptiness. My siblings and I work in the lumber yard earning what little we get paid there. I have two brothers. Havok, who is nineteen, and Axel, who is eighteen. They're great- always have my back, and I love them to death. Who do you think volunteered for my place when I was reaped for the Games? Though Havok's a year too old for the Games now, I can defiantly imagine both of them slapping on wigs and dresses to take my spot. Anyways, like I said before, I've worked in the woods since I was nine. Needless to say I have crazy upper-body strength as well as mad skills with an ax or/and hatchet. After doing my daily work in the lumber yard, I like to go deep into the woods. Since we have miles of forest we work in, I figure make the best of it, ya know? Its the one place I can really think. I've tried to hunt before by chucking a small hatchet or blade at an animal. I mean my aim is actually pretty good, if I do say so myself, but prey seems to always hear me coming and scatters before the blade has time to strike- no matter how lightly I walk. So, more often than not, I travel through the forest by jumping tree to tree- a little skill I've taught myself over the years.

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    strong independent axemanship can't swim

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      how do i choose to act ? Trust me not to make myself sound like some sort of perfect princess? *smirks* So, I've been told I'm a little bit of a pest, but I'd say I'm still likable. I have a real fiery kick to my personality, and won't go against my beliefs to please or bend to anyone's will. Therefore, I'm not a people person at all. Its miraculous that I actually have any friends whatsoever. I think it's just because of my good sense of immature humor and enthusiasm, and my vulnerable teenage charm. I have a real short temper as well. Some say I'm bipolar. I think I'm just assertive. I just speak the cold hard truth is all. I like to push the limits; I guess I can be considered a "bad girl". I can be pretty impatient, which makes me wonder how I'd do with an ally. My stubbornness makes me unable to accept the idea of anyone's but my own. Outside of my own little world, I have a poor grasp of the damage I can cause, and my immaturity and lack of forethought often lead me to disrespect those around me.
      how am i going to win ? I don't necessarily like killing, but when it comes down to it, its better them than me. My advantages in the Games are simple. Because I have worked with them all my life, I know all the ins and outs to using an ax/hatchet/tomahawk. Also, thanks to climbing trees and trudging through the forest all those years, I am fairly strong and fit, plus I have well-balanced stamina and good climbing skills. I have a good amount of plant knowledge, also because of practically living in the woods. My downfalls in the Games have the same simplicity. I can't swim. Believe me, I've tried, but it's never caught on. I have never hunted anything before, and the bold fact that I really don't want to makes me one of the "prey" pawns in this game. Lastly, I am built for woodland environments. So if the arena this year turns out to be a winter wonderland or something, I'm most defiantly screwed.


    lovely form belongs to c a r p e . diem.
    form edits go to me.
    cindara cross belongs to me. do not steal her.
    quote belongs to anne morrow lindbergh.
    talented face claim is indiana evans.
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i'm stronger than you. prettier than you. better than you.

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 1:55 pm

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    eighteen years - male - district one - too good for you
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      " You know him! You love him! Ladies and gentlemen, Zayden Jaythorne! "
      *jogs out onto stage and bows dramatically* I'm glad I can be here to make your day, Caesar. G'day everyone, Zayden Jaythorne at your service. Go ahead, mark it on your calendar guys and write it in your diaries ladies; this'll be a day to remember.
      " Well, what an introduction, eh ladies and gentlemen? Zayden, why don't you tell us a little bit about yourself. "
      Hm, well, like my name? Of course you do. I mean, its not every day you meet someone with a name such as mine who's body matches its beauty. Zayden was my father's fathers name. He was reaped for the 50th Hunger Games, bringing home a big Quarter Quell win for our district. As for my last name, well, there isn't much of a story to that. I mean It kinda just came with the whole family package. I'm eighteen years of age, born on April twenty-first in a little house on the better half of my district. Oh, right, I come from District One. But that was obvious right? Come on, you think this sexiness could have some from a place like Twelve? Please. Back home I live with my mother, father, and three brothers. Lark is the oldest; he just turned twenty. Then comes me, as second in command, at eighteen. Ryker is sixteen. And being only fourteen, Gauge is the baby of the family. We have a cat too, Jelico, whom I like to chill with in my off hours.
      " So Zayden, how would you describe your life up to this point? "
      Training, training, training. This is the moment I've been training for my entire life. The Games. I mean my mother and father work, leaving my brothers and I all day and night do what we choose. Why not train? Our District has a whole freakin' academy devoted to it. Why not use it? My brothers and I use everything and anything we can to prepare ourselves for the Games ( except for lark, who is a year too old now ). Axes, spears, bow and arrows, knives, hatchets, blowguns- everything. I'm easily taken for a train-a-holic, which isn't quite that far from the truth. I'm always moving, if not training with weapons, then working out to strengthen my body. *flashed flexed biceps* As you can see, it pays off. The Reaping was probably the best day of my life up until now. What an honor it was to be picked to be a Tribute! My brothers and many others tried to volunteer for my spot, like most in District One do every year- but our Escort kept to the drawing bowl this time. Weird I guess, but hey, I got to keep my place as a Tribute!
      " I've heard rumors about your, rather vain, personality, Zayden. Would you care to set mine, and these people's, minds at rest with answering this; are they true? "
      My personality? Well, sorry to disappoint you folks who love to see the bad in people, but I'm practically perfect. No, wait, scratch that. I am perfect. I have so much charisma I could swim in it.... which most of the time can be taken for flirting. But I mean, come on, people love me! What am I supposed to do besides love them back? Obviously that doesn't go for the boys, but the girls... *sigh* the girls are always a pleasure to be around. *winks to the crowd* Other than that, I can tell you that I'm not a real "friendly" person. I've been told I have a real paper-thin temper. Something pisses me off, I swing. Some say I'm bipolar. I think I'm just assertive. I like to cause trouble, "put the beat on people", what can I say?
      " Well, care to elaborate on your "perfection", my boy? During your last statements our lovely audience has descretely picked out a mash-up of traits they believe you possess. Lets begin with this one; sarcastic. " *shrugs* I guess you would be too if you took life as a joke. " Cocky. " Why wouldn't I be? With this body and charm, I have the right to brag. " Stubborn. " Alright, aright, you got me there. I am bullheaded, unable to accept the idea of anyone's but my own. Everything goes my way and no one else's, or else we're gonna have some serious problems. I'm kinda a control freak, but that's just me. I like being in control. The leader. Its my rightful position. Who do you think is going to be leading the Career Pack this Games? " Impatient- ooh, something that can and will work against you in the Games. " Well sure, I'm impatient. I act on impulse without any other thought. Is that really a crime? I'm sure I'll do fine in the Games. Its a bloody game, not a thinking puzzle. " Sadistic. " *scoffs* And you aren't, Caesar? Interviewing twenty-four children who have "death" tagged on their names for a living? Anyways, the answer to your question; yes, I don't see the big deal in killing. I love it. I think its funny to watch things die- especially people. Why, the Games is a dream come true for me! My only regret is that I cant be entered in more than once.
      In a nutshell, Caesar, I'm that guy you just don't want to mess with unless you got yourself a death wish.
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      " Ok Zayden, before you go, I just have to ask; is there anyone special back home? Waiting eagerly for your return so you can sweep her off her feet with your victory? "
      My second language is the language of love, Caesar. Of course I got girls waiting for me. I'm probably the biggest player this side of the mountain. Shoot, I've had so many girlfriends I've lost count let alone names- no offense ladies. The difference between me and most guys is that if I see something I like, I wont hesitate to go for it. That's what makes me so great in this little love game. Sadly, there is catch, more like a curse, to my being. Its impossible for me to hold a steady relationship with anyone, whether it be friends, dating, or even family. My longest relationship I've ever held lasted two weeks, but even then I'd be messing around with other girls. Believe me, I've tried, but its just impossible to turn all this off. * gestures to torso* I'm just so damn sexy. But yeah I'd say, more than one, sweet lady is awaiting my big and evident win.
      " Well that looks about all the time we have. It has been a pleasure conversing with you, my boy, and I'm sure the crowd is sad to see you go. But don't worry folks, you'll soon see him in action! Zayden Jaythorne everybody! "
    __________________________________

    form belongs to me.
    zayden jaythorne belongs to me. do not steal him.
    image credits go to their respective owners.

sighting no.2
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ZAYDEN JAYTHORNE
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- - - - the first impression.
    -- name;; zayden tobias jaythorne.
    -- pronounced;; zae-den | tobe-eye-as | jay-thorn.
    -- nickname;; zay.
    -- age;; eighteen years old.
    -- gender;; male.
    -- district;; one.
    -- fc;; charlie carver.
- - - - the mirror image.
    -- hair color;; rich chocolate brown.
    -- eye color;; soft yet dark brown.
    -- height;; five foot eleven.
    -- weight;; one hundred seventy nine pounds.
    -- skin;; tanned caucasian.
    -- body build;; lean yet extremely muscular.
    -- modifications;; none.
- - - - the relations.
    -- family;; mother winnow, father titus, older brother lark, twin brother ryker, younger brother gauge.
    -- pet[s];; cat jelico.
    -- allies;; district two and four's tributes- the careers.
    -- enemies;; everyone. even the other careers on a certain level.
    -- crush[es];; n/a.
    -- current relationship[s];; hmm, four maybe?
    -- past relationship[s];; too many to count.
- - - - the tribute's chances.
    -- good traits;; leader, confident, brave, vigorous, athletic, easily manipulated (good for others).
    -- bad traits;; bipolar, arrogant, bullheaded, impatient, erratic, competitive, controlling.
    -- dreams;; winning the hunger games and bringing pride to his district.
    -- fears;; losing the hunger games. both he and his family believe that if he doesn't win the games he deserves to be dead anyways.
    -- weapon(s) of choice;; swords and spears, but he's a pro with anything that has a blade.
    -- strengths;; brute strength, swordsmanship, automatic leader-like aura.
    -- weaknesses;; arrogance, impatience, control freak.
my form, my character. no thievery please.
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here kitty kitty...

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:38 pm

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      Name: Alaska Kodiak Cross.
      Nickname{s}: 'Laska, Snowey, 'Aska, Frost, Animal, or very rarely, Kodi.
      Age: 17 years young.
      Gender: Female.
      Birthday: December 31st.
      Species: Special.
      Power: Enhanced agility, speed, reflexes, coordination, balance, retractable claws, hyper-keen animalistic senses- including night vision.
      Power's Weakness: Loud and high-pitched sounds.
      Parents: Johnathon and Marie Cross.
      Siblings: None, she is was an only child.


      "Hey, my name's Alaska. Yes, like the state. No I'm not psychic. I get that a lot. So, your probably wondering how I got my name since its so... different. Well, my parents were vacationing in Alaska when I was born. So yeah, there you go. It's kinda weird, but I can't complain. My middle name's Kodiak. That came from my birthplace as well. And then there's Cross. Nothin' much to say about that, since I kinda got it just by default. If you wanna nickname me, go right ahead. I've heard it all... Yeah, on second thought, don't nickname me. I am obviously a girl and I'm seventeen years young. Yes, I say young. Got a problem with it? Pity. My birthday's on December 31st and I am, er, was an only child. There's something else, too. I'm not exactly... human. You see, I'm kinda more... animalistic than most people. All my senses are enhanced. Taste, smell, reflexes, sight, balance, ect. I even have claws and teeth that come out at my beck and call. Most call me a freak or a monster of sorts. But here they call me a Special. I guess that's just another way of saying failure to humanity."


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      Height: 5"6.
      Weight: 113 lbs.
      Hair Color: Originally blonde, dyed white.
      Eye Color: Soft charcoal grey.
      Skin Color: Caucasian.
      Hair Style: Grown down a little more than half below shoulders, with bangs to the right side of her forehead.
      Body Structure: Thin and fit.
      Body Modifications: Regular ear as well as left cartilage piercings. She also has her nose pierced, but she hardly ever wears the ring. Tattoos? Surprisingly, she only has one. And its of a bird done on the back of her neck.
      Clothing Style: X - x - x - x - X.


      "I know what you're probably asking right about now. Why white hair? I say why not? My favorite season is winter, and I wanted something about the way I look to be... different. 5"6 is my height, and if you want to keep all that blood running inside your body, I suggest you don't ask me how much I weigh. I'm white, or Caucasian- whatever you want to call it. My eyes are a light charcoal grey color- almost the same color as the tattoo I have."

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      Likes: Art, partying, wintertime, birds, music, sports, rodents, & hot chocolate.
      Dislikes: Fire, summertime, monkeys, & math.
      Fears: Being betrayed, trusting someone, and love- that last one scares her. Mostly because she doesn't understand it. Alaska also has a thing called aquaphobia, which is a persistent and abnormal fear of water. Most think its from her power, since she leans more toward the feline attribute side rather than the canine. But if you really dig into her past, you'll find the fear is much more mentally rooted from a bad past experience.
      Dreams: She wants out. Out of this prison. Until then, it's just a matter of staying alive here at Nightshade Academy...
      Personality: "Deep down, I guess I'm kind of an alright person. So uh, yeah. I don't usually describe myself in words, so I'm not sure how great this is gonna go. I've been told I'm a little bit of a pest, but I'd say I'm still likable. I have a real fiery kick to my personality, and won't go against my beliefs to please or bend to anyone's will. Therefore, I'm not a people person at all. Its miraculous that I actually have any friends whatsoever. I think it's just because of my good sense of immature humor and enthusiasm, and my vulnerable teenage charm. I have a real short temper as well. Some say I'm bipolar. I think I'm just assertive. I just speak the cold hard truth is all. I guess that's what got me the academy "bad girl" label. Girly is the very last word I would think myself as. Shoot, I'm defiantly a tomboy. My pugnacious and trouble making nature supports it. I like to have a good time, but I sometimes ruin it because my sarcasm can get too out of control. I can be impatient as well, which goes to say you do not wan't me for a lab partner. My headstrong stubbornness makes me unable to accept the idea of anyone's but my own. But I know that's not all of what I am. I think I can legitly be decent and maybe even nice.... sometimes. I mean not very often, but it's possible. But outside of that, I have a poor grasp of the damage I can cause, and my immaturity and lack of forethought often lead me to disrespect those around me."


      Image


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      Sexual Orientation: Straight.
      Turn Ons: Someone who makes her laugh and she can joke around with. Grey or dark green eyes. English or Australian accents. Someone who loves the same things she does and won't mind staying up into the wee hours of the morning together- A.K.A, a night owl like herself. Someone who she can relax and be herself around, and most importaintly, someone who actually cares about her enough to listen to her.
      Turn Offs: People who are cocky and think their too good for anyone else. "Fake" people. Backstabbers. Humans.
      Crush{s}: N/A.
      Boyfriend: N/A.
      Past Boyfriend{s}: None.
      History: "So you want a history lesson, eh? Alright then, I'll give you a crash course. Like I already told you, I was born in Kodiak, Alaska. A few months after I was born, my parents moved us back to our home in Hazen, North Dakota. That's where I grew up. Nothing very significant happened in my life until I turned around 14. I was always a wild child, but never like this. I refuse to follow the rules- even now that I'm here, and always got into some sort of trouble. Being arrested became a regular thing with me, even though I never actually spent any jail time like I should have. The real kicker, however, was when I was found breaking into a house at the age sixteen with a few of my friends. When the cops showed and started doing their little arresting thing, my "talent" subconsciously took over for the first time. I mean, I could always see, smell, and stuff pretty well- but not like this. I felt so strong. So powerful. I went into complete animal mode. I think I may have killed a guy or two- I can't say for sure because it all happened so fast. I ran home at impossible speed and literally crashed through the door. My parents freaked when they saw me. I rapidly searched the house for a mirror while my mom made a frantic phone call. I couldn't believe what I saw through the glass when I entered the bathroom. I was covered in blood, my teeth were sharp like fangs, my fingernails were morphed into claws, and my grey eyes were swirling with gold. Then everything went loud. So loud. Too loud. All I remember after that was waking up in the car, pulling up to Nightshade Academy. I've never forgiven my parents since. They can go die in a hole for all I care."


      Image


      form belongs to me.
      alaska cross belongs to me. do not steal her.
      image credits go to their rightful owners.
Last edited by charmey on Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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kind, shy, gentle, and untouchable

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:49 pm

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      ;; name ;;

      "Hi. Um, my name is Kyle- but you can call me Ky is you'd like. Full name is Kyle Alexander Hemingway. Kyle... yeah, I'm not sure why my mother named me that. Maybe she just liked the name, I don't know. I never asked. I don't know my my middle name is Alexander either. Now this is just a personal conclusion, but I think all middle names are meant to be really fancy and proper. I mean think about it. Have you ever heard of someone with the middle name Jack? Or, or Nancy? No, because those are normal first names. Anyways, back to the point. You may or may not recognize my last name. Hemingway. As in Ernest Hemingway. 1800-1900 American author and journalist. Keeper of the six-toes cats. Yeah, I'm a decedent of him. Probably explains my love of literature."

      ;; age ;;

      "I'm eighteen years old. My birthday is on May 13th."

      ;; gender ;;

      "Really? Is that a rhetorical question? -sigh- I'm a man, thank you."

      ;; personality ;;

      "I guess I'm a pretty calm, go-with-the flow kinda guy. I like to keep to myself I don't like to cause trouble. Its weird though. Some people think I'm depressed or something just because I don't talk much. Its not me... just my ability- or whatever you want to call it. I mean, I can't have any physical contact with anybody, at all, whatsoever. Can you imagine that? Being your own self's slave? Afraid your touch might unintentionally kill someone? My power often makes me feel lonely and like an outsider, so yeah, I stay quiet. But its just to help people. To keep them safe. I don't want anyone becoming my friend for the reason I might hurt them. If it wasn't for this... this curse, I think I could be a great, outgoing friend to someone. But that will never happen. I cant change... this. No matter how hard I try."

      ;; history ;;

      "Wip. c;"

      ;; power + weakness ;;

      "More so than most, I consider my powers a curse. I, uh, involuntarily absorb and sometimes also remove the memories, physical strength, and energy of anyone I touch. This means that my potentially fatal power prevents me from making any physical contact with others.
      My weakness... I guess is my own power. I can't touch anyone, or else I could accidentally kill them. I have no idea how to use my power, let alone control it- so yes, I do consider it a curse. The scientists here at Nightshade, on the other hand, find it fascinating. Their only regret is that I'm untouchable. So when they preform tests on me... t-they use machines. Big, cold, sharp machines..."


      ;; love life ;;

      "You really think I have experience in that department? Are you mocking me or something? How the hell can I "love" anything if I can't even touch it?! Yeah, didn't think about that tiny little factor, did you?
      Aw geez, no, I'm sorry. Pardon my sourness. Its just that love is an almost complete physical affair. And I can't... be apart of something like that. It's rather torturous to even talk about."


      form belongs to... i'm not sure, but not me.
      kyle hemingway, however, belongs to me. do not steal him. mine!
      image credits go their respective owners.
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is it possible to forget the forgotten?

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 3:57 pm

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      ;; name ;;

      "Hello, my name is Circe. Circe Aurelia Vixen. You probably recognize my first name from freshman year in high school. Circe, goddess of magic and sorcery, was made famous from the story of Odysseus. You know, Greek gods and stuff. My first name is pronounced different than you would think. Sir-see. My middle name is also a little challenging to get right. You say it awe-rel-ee-ah. My last name is Vixen. That one... well, to make it easy for you- yes, like the reindeer."

      ;; age ;;

      "I'm fifteen, almost sixteen years old- born on August 23rd."

      ;; gender ;;

      "I am a girl... kinda hope that was obvious."

      ;; personality ;;

      "People say I'm a little shy, which is a total understatement. In all honesty, I'm pretty much a mute- defiantly not an open book. More like a locked diary that's been stowed away for hiding. I would much rather just sink into the background than argue and make a big scene. I'm the peace maker, and I never hold a grudge. Other than that obstacle of shyness, I think I'm a pretty nice person. I like to help, but secretly. I don't like it when I'm made a big deal of. It's hard to earn my trust because I'm so quiet, so I wouldn't say I have a lot of friends. None, actually. Makes me wonder how I'll fair in an environment such as Nightshade Academy. I mean I've heard people actually die here. But that can't be true... right? Isn't this supposed to be a safe place for, um, mutants?"

      ;; history ;;

      "I don't remember much about my past at all. Well, let me rephrase that. I wish I didn't remember.
      I found myself struggling for life the outskirts of Hazen, North Dakota, at the age of thirteen. At the time I was torn on what to think, what to feel. My parents, God bless their souls, had just been killed in a car crash. It had been them, my two brothers, and me in our black SUV. We were on our way back home from a camping trip. A drunk driver hit us, made us spin out off a cliff on the rural road.... I was the only survivor. I can't recall much after an eighteen-wheeler driver skid to a stop when I collapsed, half dead in the middle of the road a day or two after the accident. I'm pretty sure he drove me into town and to a hospital. I remember lights, bright lights, and people talking all around me. When I finally came to I discovered I could hardly recall my own name. They said I had head trauma, which I guess explains it. I can barely even remember what my own mother's face looked like... Now, I have short term memory loss. Not all the time, but it does happen sometimes.
      After staying in the hospital for what seemed like forever, they put me in an all-girls orphanage. Around fifteen I started feeling pains in my upper back. Doctors came. They said it was probably just after shock from the accident. But then a few weeks later a man came... he did some sort of observation of all of us for a few days. Before he left he pulled me to the side and told me I was different. That I was a mistake. He said he'd be back. I had no idea what that meant at the time...
      A week or two passed. The man returned. This time when he left, he took me with him. He brought me here to Nightshade Academy. I remember being so scared at first. Seeing all these... these freaks. The same man who brought me here then took me somewhere underground.
      They did things to me... Poked and prodded me with needles... I blacked out from so much pain one time. When I woke up, I was surrounded by feathers. You can imagine how loud I screamed when I discovered they were attached to me. In the room they were keeping me in, there was a mirror. I couldn't believe what I saw when I walked up to it. Wings. Huge, feathery wings. Coming out of my back."


      ;; power ;;

      "My power is, well, the power of being able to fly. Even though I haven't quite yet mastered the art. These are my wings. They sprout out of my back. I don't know how, I don't know why. They just... do. Sometimes when I don't even want them to. I mean, I could be sitting in class and they'll just creep out. Its an awful burden too. Every time they come out, it hurts. It hurts really bad. I can't even bare the thought of having to make them go in and out of my body for a long period of time. And I know the Academy would definatly punish me with that if they had the reason to."

      ;; love life ;;

      "Love? Not really familiar with the feeling. In all honesty I've never even thought about it. The only boys I ever loved were my dad and my brothers- I think. Besides, what kind of guy would ever notice someone like me?"


      form belongs to... i'm not sure, but not me.
      form edits go to me.
      circe vixen belongs to me. do not steal her.
      image credits go their respective owners.
Last edited by charmey on Wed Apr 24, 2013 9:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
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heyyy mr. grumpy gills

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 4:12 pm

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    THE "GRUMPY " ONE

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why am I so compelled to
HURT
everything I
TOUCH ?
__________________________

    Hey, my name is Duke. Duke Harrison Archer. Pronounce it how you want, I could care less. But if you want to say it wrong to my face, then we're gonna have a problem. Which'll most likely end with you in crutches. Unlike most people there is no cool, special back story to my name. Frankly, it wouldn't surprise me if my name was just a jumbled, thoughtless mess my parents through together on the spot when I was born. But hey, a names a name. 'Snot like I can change it. I was born on October 16th to Penelope and Joseph Archer. Don't ask me exactly when or where- I don't know. Nor do I care. The only thing that matters is that I know I'm nineteen years old, but I feel like I'm forty. I had to grow up way too early in my life to feel young. I'm obviously a guy, but if you wanna check, go ahead. Trust me when I say I've learned the hard way not to argue.
Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than
outright dislike. - J. K. Rowling.

__________________________________

    My appearance? Well haven't you heard? I'm a disgusting, ugly disappointment- as per according to my parents. If you can look past that, I'd say I'm an alright-looking dude. I have kind of a bulk build. I'm muscular. Yeah, I work out. Use to lift weights until my arms shook, run until my legs gave out, and do push ups 'till my hands bled. Beside that, I'm pretty lean too. My hair is a goldish-brown color. It's cut short and close to my head. I ain't no quire who goes around with ear piercings and hair down to my shoulders. My eyes are stormy grey-blue, with a strike of green somewhere in there too. I'm a tall guy- about 6'1, 6'2. I weigh, eh, 170 lbs or so- muscle heavy's me down quite a bit. Its been a while since I've checked. For all I know it may be more. I have no piercings or tattoos. Part of me kind of wishes I had a tat, but I don't.
The time that people aren't expecting what's going to happen,
I find that's the best time to really cause the damage that
needs to be done. - Marilyn Manson.
__________________________________

    You want me to describe myself? My personality? Two simple words ought a do it. Strong and silent. I don't have to say a word for my presence to be known. My silence comes with an extra dose of confidence and control, something I've had to recover and fight hard to find within myself. I don't feel the need to put on a show, stand out in a crowd, or be chatty when I'm out and about. Talking is something I hardly do, let alone spill out my heart and talk about my feelings like some wussy girl. Rather, I just sit back and observe. So when I say something you better listen and listen carefully. In consequence, when my mouth opens only negative things come out. Don't you dare confuse my silence as a sign of weakness or disinterest; consider that I feel most comfortable analyzing a situation instead of putting up a big fuss.
    I'm naturally intoxicating and able to catch attention without doing much at all- a blessing and a curse. In a warped way, I seemed to be fairly well-respected. But my strong demeanor comes with a price. I always keep a steel wall of defense up. I haven't let it down for years. Fear? I know the feeling. I know it down to the dirt and grime. But I don't express it anymore. I think its been permanently beaten out of me. People seem to be intimidated by me so much that they fear any sort of communication with me at all. And that's just how I like it.
    There's something else about me you should probably be aware of. I... have some serious anger issues. Unlike normal people who's anger is limited due to laws, social norms, and common sense, mine isn't. I have no limits when it comes to anger. I have a long reputation of lashing out at nearly every person or object that irritates or annoys me, whether it be verbally or physically. More often than not, its physical. Once I broke a kid's nose because he looked at me funny.
abuse (n.): a corrupt practice or custom; improper or excessive
use or treatment; language that condemns or vilifies usually
unjustly, intemperately, and angrily.
__________________________________

    My past.... *sigh* I promise, you really don't wanna go down this road with me....
    If you really have to know though, my childhood sucked. Sucked so hard that I had none. I was a mistake, and my parents made absolutely sure I knew it. All day, every day. My parents... *laughs* were abusive. I can't even remember a time when they weren't. When I was little, like before ten, it was mostly verbal insults. Every once and awhile they'd hit me, but that was a time in my life where we went out a lot. It wouldn't be good for their image if they were walking around with a bruised kid, now would it? *laughs again* That's all they cared about. Appearances. See, back before I was born, they were the top of the town. Always going to and hosting the greatest parties, always having the newest top designer clothes, and so on. I mean I got all those nice things too, but it came with a painful price.
    When I was born, their glamorous life completely fell apart. Mom and dad tried to keep up with the times, but having to tug a kid around everywhere they went got old after a while. I mean, carrying a baby into a bar. You can imagine the dirty looks they always got. They blame me for their loss of "fame" and "glory". So naturally, they take it out on me.
    Man, I thought I had it rough then... *chuckles* I was ten when the real abuse began. I remember the first time my dad ever hit me. Something had happened at his work and I guess he needed to take it out on something. Rather than yelling at my mom for it, he made his way to the living room, blocked my view of my daily cartoons, and just glared at me. I asked him if he was ok, and he punched me clear across the jaw. I remember the blood... He had knocked a tooth loose, maybe more. Then my mother walked in... She saw me lying there, bloody and crying... And you know what she did? She, she yelled at me. Me! As if I did something wrong! She screamed how awful I was, how big of a mistake I was, how unimportant I was. I was a freaking ten year old boy who had never committed a sin in his life, and she was yelling at me when I had been kicked down! And my my own damn father!
    .... *sigh* It wasn't fair. Any of it. From then on, it only got worse. Sometimes... sometimes it was like my mom and dad teamed up against me. I've broken so many bones I'm scared that if I break another, my entire body'll shatter. Aw man, and I haven't even told you about the Box.
    The Box is a hollowed out freezer that's insides have been covered in cement. It looks like this but like I said, hollowed out and cemented on the inside. My dad, who was the worse of the two evils, would... lock me in there for hours on end. Lock as in L-O-C-K. Big, heavy, industrial chains wrapped around the thing. There was no way out. When closed, its completely pitch black. You can't even see your own hands in front of you. More often than not, you'd feel something wet, like thick water, on your hands. I'd think it was just water, since this was once a freezer, and forget about it. Only when the Box was opened again would I be able to see how my fingernails had been grind down so low my fingers bled uncontrollably. The inner walls of that thing are just lined and lined with red marks. Blood. My blood. My parents said if I ever told anyone what they did to me they'd slaughter me and throw me in the river. So added to my out of the blue beatings, I was in and out of the Box for six years of my life.
    I was sixteen when I fought back for the first time. My parents couldn't believe it, that I'd actually rebelled. That got me locked in the Box for, pfft, three days if I remember right? No food, no light, and the only water I got was my own freakin' blood. After I got out of there I started working out. Some people drown their sorrows in food, I put mine in athletics. It took months, but I finally grew strong. Mentally and physically. The next time my mother tried to hit me, I grabbed her arm mid-air and squeezed it so hard she screamed. Ironically, my dad came home minutes after. He walked in on me fighting back my mother. The next thing I knew I was on the ground. My dad had tackled me and was beating me senseless. My dad, sure he was fit for his age, but I was young and strong. Even after being beaten down all my life. After getting a few nasty hits in, I ran out of the house. I've never been back since. Its also safe to say I quit school just before junior year.
    My parents never did press charges or even try to track me down. Personally, I think a serious burden had been lifted off their shoulders when I left. I know I felt like it. I made what money I could competing in underground fight rings. I tried smoking weed once but it didn't work out. Not even cigarettes stuck with me. No matter what I tried, I just couldn't make my body accept drugs. It angered me because I would hear nonstop how the leaves or the rock made all your troubles go away...
    *sigh* I guess my troubles are just one of those things that'll never go away...

form belongs to me.
duke archer belongs to me. do not steal him.
face-claim is the gorgeous channing tatum.
image credits go to their respective owners.
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can perfection really be achieved?

Postby charmey » Mon Apr 22, 2013 4:21 pm

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      name; blaine aurora lerwick.
      pronounced; bla-aye-na / a-roar-a / ler-wick.
      origin; aurora means "dawn" in latin.
      nickname; aine or ainey.
      age; eighteen years.
      gender; female.
      birthdate; november sixteenth.
      birthplace; london, england.
      ethnicity; british.
      parents; jacob and elizabeth lerwick.
      siblings; aaron lerwick.
      Hi, my name is Blaine. Blaine Aurora Lerwick. Before you point it out; yes, I am aware "Blaine" is a boy name too. -shugs- Is that supposed to put me down or something? I like my name. Anyways, my middle name is Aurora. Did you know it actually means "dawn" in Latin? Cool, huh? It was my great grandmother's name. We were pretty close before she passed away a few years ago. Lerwick is a family name that's of British decent. Its been passed down through my family for generations. Oh, I hope you've realized by now. Especially if you have working ears. I'm British. I actually even used to live in England. London to be exact. My family and I moved here just a couple years ago because of my father's job. My birthday is on November sixteenth, which would make me eighteen years old. I truly hope you can tell I am indeed a girl. Female, lass, chick, madam- no matter how you say it, I'll stay a girl. Johnathon and Marie Lerwick are my parents. I have one brother who's just two years younger than me. His name is Aaron. Nice boy, good at sports. Did you know lacrosse is actually considered a dangerous game?
      height; 5"6.
      weight; 113 lbs.
      hair color; blonde w/ light brown highlights.
      hair length; above mid-back.
      hair style; down natural or messy bun/ponytail.
      makeup; bareminerals foundation and mascara.
      eye color; grey-green.
      skin color; tanned caucasian.
      body structure; lean and fit.
      body modifications; average lobe piercings and
      one tattoo.

      clothing style; £ . £ . £ . £ . £

      Do you think I'm pretty? Er, not that it matters. I mean sure, every girl cares about what others, especially guys, think of them. Its only natural. I'm the same way, but honestly, like myself just the way I am. I don't feel the need to change for anybody. As you can tell, I'm a white girl. But not, like, pale. I have a pretty alright tan tint to me. I'd say I'm pretty thin and fit for a girl my age. I'm 5'6. Didn't anyone ever tell you its rude to ask a girl's weight? My hair is naturally blonde with dirty blonde brown streaks- I've never actually dyed it or anything, if that's what you're thinking. Nope, these golden waves are all-natural. My eyes are light grey, but sometimes people say they look dull green. I do have my ears pierced, and this last thing is something you can't really go blab to everyone about. I have... a tattoo. Surprise! I know, something you wouldn't expect on a girl like me. Tattoo equals thug in many people's eyes, including my own. But I only think that way about big, ugly ones. Mine, however, is little and cute. Three birds on my shoulder. Its a symbol of freedom. this description is in major editing, as i wrote it way back when and it defiantly needs a good writer's touch.
      hobbies; singing, guitar, cooking, reading,
      painting, and horseback riding.

      likes; music, art, books, honey, horses,
      nature, rain, leather, picnics, lemonade,
      birds, and disney.

      dislikes; obnoxiously loud noises, cleaning,
      cheerleading, neon colors, and mainstream fads.

      dreams; become a professional singer and barrel
      racer.

      fears; wasps, bees, hornets, and heights.
      talents; singing, painting, and barrel racing.
      flaws; may or may not be a flaw, but she has
      a big heart and always sees the best in people,
      which often leads to people taking advantage
      and stepping all over her.

      personality will go here eventually. so for now... words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.
      sexual orientation; straight.
      turn ons; funny, artist, singer, photographer,
      blue eyes, muscles, flannel shirts, great smile,
      loves animals, and an american accent.

      turn offs; cocky attitude, brown eyes,
      socks and sandals, bad shave, braces, and
      long hair.

      crushes; n/a.
      boyfriend; n/a.
      past boyfriends; Adam Stiles.

      history is a big wip as well. so... words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.
      riding style; western.
      specialty; barrel racing.
      past riding horses; n/a.
      current riding horses; delilah.
      rehabilitated horses; n/a.
      current rehabilitating horses; lyric.
      other pets; deacon, her welsh corgi.

      horse stuff go here eventually. so for now... words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.
      Image
      Image


      this form belongs to me. do not steal.
      blaine lerwick belongs to me. do not steal her as well.
      face-claim is the beautiful candice accola.
      all image credits go to their rightful owners.
Last edited by charmey on Mon May 06, 2013 10:44 am, edited 2 times in total.
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charmey
 
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