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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 14, 2014 2:12:03 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 14, 2014 2:12:03 GMT -5
;w; thank youu the song i took the lyrics from is also gorgeous
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Jan 14, 2014 11:19:50 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 14, 2014 11:19:50 GMT -5
that coding i can't aoifsdhfndiofdsaoi
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 18, 2014 0:56:17 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 18, 2014 0:56:17 GMT -5
first m. last. alignment ♥ age ♥ orientation ♥ profileFriends Rule #1 you gotta have fun but baby when you're done you gotta be the first to run You know how people have these little habits that get you down? Like Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum. No, not chew. POP. So I came home this one day and I’m really irritated and I'm looking for a little bit of sympathy and there’s Bernie, lying on the couch drinking a beer and chewin. No, not chewing--POPPING. So said to him, I said "you POP that gum one more time..." And he did. So I took the shotgun off the wall and fired two warning shots... into his head. Enemies Rule #2 just don't get attached to somebody you could lose I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about two years ago and he told me he was single and we hit it off right away. So, we started living together. He'd go to work, he'd come home, I'd fix him a drink, we'd have dinner. And then I found out. "Single," he told me. Single, my ass. Not only was he married... oh, no, he had six wives. One of those Mormons, you know. So that night, when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink as usual. You know, some guys just can't hold their arsenic! Lovers Rule #3 wear your ♥ on your cheek but never on your sleeve unless you wanna taste defeat I'm standin' in the kitchen, carving up a chicken for dinner, minding my own business, in storms my husband, Wilbur, in a jealous rage. "You've been screwing the milkman," he said. He was crazy, and he kept on screaming, "You've been screwing the milkman." And then he ran into my knife... he ran into my knife ten times. Others Rule #4 gotta be looking pure kiss him good-bye at the door and leave him wanting more I loved Al Lipshitz more than I could say. He was a real artistic type, a painter. He was always trying to find himself. He'd go out every night looking for himself. And on the way, he found Ruth. Gladys. Rosemary. And Irving. I guess you could say we broke up because of artistic differences. He saw himself as alive. And I saw him dead. by worldie on iof
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 28, 2014 15:19:26 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 28, 2014 15:19:26 GMT -5
everything that kills me makes me feel alive T he fair girl shook her head coquettishly, and the other two urged her on. One said:— “Go on! You are first, and we shall follow; yours is the right to begin.” The other added:— “He is young and strong; there are kisses for us all.” I lay quiet, looking out under my eyelashes in an agony of delightful anticipation. The fair girl advanced and bent over me till I could feel the movement of her breath upon me. Sweet it was in one sense, honey-sweet, and sent the same tingling through the nerves as her voice, but with a bitter underlying the sweet, a bitter offensiveness, as one smells in blood. I was afraid to raise my eyelids, but looked out and saw perfectly under the lashes. The girl went on her knees, and bent over me, simply gloating. There was a deliberate voluptuousness which was both thrilling and repulsive, and as she arched her neck she actually licked her lips like an animal, till I could see in the moonlight the moisture shining on the scarlet lips and on the red tongue as it lapped the white sharp teeth. Lower and lower went her head as the lips went below the range of my mouth and chin and seemed about to fasten on my throat. Then she paused, and I could hear the churning sound of her tongue as it licked her teeth and lips, and could feel the hot breath on my neck. Then the skin of my throat began to tingle as one’s flesh does when the hand that is to tickle it approaches nearer—nearer. I could feel the soft, shivering touch of the lips on the super-sensitive skin of my throat, and the hard dents of two sharp teeth, just touching and pausing there. I closed my eyes in a languorous ecstasy and waited—waited with beating heart. Word Count: XXX || Tags: XXX || Notes: XXX by worldie on iof
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Jan 29, 2014 17:28:52 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 17:28:52 GMT -5
wiggles whispers hey worldie could i request a posting format for Kári? o3o
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 29, 2014 17:48:07 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 29, 2014 17:48:07 GMT -5
sure, i'm on it~ uvu (and mona i remember that i still owe you one too ff) any preferences for the either of you?
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Jan 29, 2014 18:37:46 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 18:37:46 GMT -5
something to do with dice and cards and gambling and whatever comes to your mind when you think of luck uwu
also something that gives a sort of fancy and classy air to it maybe
DO WHATEVER YOU GET INSPIRATION FOR WHEN YOU THINK OF MONACO I DON'T KNOW FHISDOFOSD
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Jan 29, 2014 20:15:17 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 20:15:17 GMT -5
Jem isn't a fan of scroll bars really uwu Other than that... Puffinnnssss~
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 30, 2014 7:48:12 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 30, 2014 7:48:12 GMT -5
we are wild... Word Count: XXX | Tags: @iceicebaby | Notes: Did yours first since you already have a post up pfft. Let me know if this works~ A deacon who lived on a farm called Myrká (Dark River) had a girlfriend named Guðrún. She lived on farm called Bægisá located on the other side of a big river called Hörgá. One day the deacon rode his horse Faxi to Bægisá to meet Guðrún so they could discuss their plans for Christmas. The deacon promised to ride to Bægisá on Christmas eve and bring Guðrún to Myrká where they could celebrate the holiday together. But on his way back home that day, the deacon was unexpectedly caught in a heavy storm. He fell into the Hörgá river where he suffered a severe head injury and drowned. The deacon's body was found the next day by a farmer and buried a week before Christmas. But the news of his death somehow had not reached Guðrún. On Christmas eve, as per their arrangement, the deacon arrived at her farm. She had barely finished dressing, and only had time to put on one sleeve of her coat before they were off on their journey. As they rode, his face was hidden by a hat and scarf, but when they came to Hörgá river the horse tripped and the deacons hat fell forward. Guðrún saw his terrible head injury. As the moon shined upon them he said, “The moon fades, death rides. Don't you see a white spot on the back of my head, Garún , Garún?“ She replied, “I see, what is“. After that, they did not speak a word until they came to the deacon's farm Myrká. When they got off the horse, the deacon spoke again. “Wait here Garún, Garún. While I move Faxi, Faxi (the deacon's horse) over the fence, fence”. (The deacon's stuttering problem is attributed to his head injury) When Guðrún noticed an open grave in the graveyard, she felt the deacon trying to pull her into it. By luck, she was only wearing one sleeve of her coat, and when the deacon pulled on her empty sleeve, she was able to break free and run away. As the deacon disappeared into the grave and the grave filled up, she realized that the deacon was dead and she'd encountered his ghost. Guðrún was haunted by the deacon's ghost throughout the night, the disturbance causing others residing at the farm to lose sleep. An exorcist was summoned who finally put the deacon's ghost to rest. we are like young volcanoes by worldie for jem [div align="center"][div style="width:390px;background-color:#003757;padding:5px;"][div style="text-align:right;color:#d6f0ff;font-family:georgia;font-style:italic;text-transform:lowercase;font-size:12px;margin:8px;"]we are wild...[/div][div style="width:350px;"][div style="height:100px;width:100px;border:solid 5px #88a2b1;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/J7s3R1H.jpg');float:left;"][/div][div style="height:100px;width:100px;border:solid 5px #88a2b1;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/o6l7i5e.jpg');margin-top:-12px;"][/div][div style="height:100px;width:100px;border:solid 5px #88a2b1;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/Ox3qyAk.jpg');float:right;margin-top:-110px;"][/div][/div][div style="width:340px;padding:5px;background-color:#88a2b1;margin-top:10px;color:#000d30;overflow:hidden;font-family:georgia;font-size:10px;"][b]Word Count[/b]: XXX | [b]Tags[/b]: @iceicebaby | [b]Notes[/b]: Did yours first since you already have a post up pfft. Let me know if this works~[/div][div style="width:330px;padding-left:10px;padding-right:10px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:5px;background-color:#88a2b1;color:#000d30;font-family:arial;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;margin-top:10px;"][div style="font-family:georgia;font-size:20px;color:#000;float:left;padding-right:5px;"]A[/div] deacon who lived on a farm called Myrká (Dark River) had a girlfriend named Guðrún. She lived on farm called Bægisá located on the other side of a big river called Hörgá. One day the deacon rode his horse Faxi to Bægisá to meet Guðrún so they could discuss their plans for Christmas. The deacon promised to ride to Bægisá on Christmas eve and bring Guðrún to Myrká where they could celebrate the holiday together. But on his way back home that day, the deacon was unexpectedly caught in a heavy storm. He fell into the Hörgá river where he suffered a severe head injury and drowned.
The deacon's body was found the next day by a farmer and buried a week before Christmas. But the news of his death somehow had not reached Guðrún. On Christmas eve, as per their arrangement, the deacon arrived at her farm. She had barely finished dressing, and only had time to put on one sleeve of her coat before they were off on their journey. As they rode, his face was hidden by a hat and scarf, but when they came to Hörgá river the horse tripped and the deacons hat fell forward. Guðrún saw his terrible head injury. As the moon shined upon them he said, “The moon fades, death rides. Don't you see a white spot on the back of my head, Garún , Garún?“ She replied, “I see, what is“. After that, they did not speak a word until they came to the deacon's farm Myrká. When they got off the horse, the deacon spoke again. “Wait here Garún, Garún. While I move Faxi, Faxi (the deacon's horse) over the fence, fence”. (The deacon's stuttering problem is attributed to his head injury)
When Guðrún noticed an open grave in the graveyard, she felt the deacon trying to pull her into it. By luck, she was only wearing one sleeve of her coat, and when the deacon pulled on her empty sleeve, she was able to break free and run away. As the deacon disappeared into the grave and the grave filled up, she realized that the deacon was dead and she'd encountered his ghost. Guðrún was haunted by the deacon's ghost throughout the night, the disturbance causing others residing at the farm to lose sleep. An exorcist was summoned who finally put the deacon's ghost to rest.[/div][div style="text-align:left;color:#d6f0ff;font-family:georgia;font-style:italic;text-transform:lowercase;font-size:20px;padding-left:8px;padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;"]we are like young volcanoes[/div][/div][div style="width:400px;font-family:arial;font-size:8px;color:#2b2b2b;text-align:right;padding-top:5px;"]by worldie for jem[/div][/div]
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Jan 30, 2014 11:24:50 GMT -5 |
Post by Deleted on Jan 30, 2014 11:24:50 GMT -5
Aaah! It's great! Simple and classy, perfect~ Thank you so much dear <3
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Jan 30, 2014 14:50:21 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Jan 30, 2014 14:50:21 GMT -5
word count xxx tags @monanana notes guuh ok i'm not 100% satisfied with this but i hope it works ff. let me know if you want any changes~ M ost of the philosophical discussions of luck have been focussed upon the relevance of this concept to issues in ethics and, to a lesser degree, epistemology. The loci classici for the former debate in the recent literature is an exchange between Nagel (1979) and Williams (1979) on how luck undermines responsibility and thus, a fortiori, moral responsibility. Essentially, the concern raised is that there are morally relevant consequences of our actions which are due to luck, and that this undermines our moral responsibility for those actions. For instance, one example that is discussed by Nagel, and which has been the locus of a great deal of debate in the subsequent literature, is that of the drunk driver. Nagel asks us to compare two moral agents, both of whom drive home drunk, but only one of whom has the misfortune to kill an innocent bystander as a result. Nagel notes that our moral approbation of the ‘unlucky’ driver is far greater than our moral approbation of the ‘lucky’ driver, even though we are willing to grant, on reflection at least, that the only difference between the consequences of the two situations is a difference brought about by luck. It would appear then, argues Nagel, that luck has an influence on our moral judgements. Now one might respond to this sort of example by arguing that all it shows is that we should be more careful about our moral judgements by first being clear that the consequences at issue are not due to luck. But this will not do, contends Nagel, because there is a sense in which luck afflicts the consequences of all our actions since no matter how likely it was that what happened occurred in the way that it did, there is always the logical possibility that events could have been different and different in such a way that can be described as being affected by luck. We are thus faced with the dilemma of either abandoning the project of a luck-free system of moral assessment altogether (a system that Nagel and Williams attribute to Kant), or else radically revising our moral intuitions. by worldie for mona [div align="center"][div style="width:400px;"][div style="width:270px;background-color:#b80000;border-right:solid 10px #460000;padding-bottom:10px;padding-top:10px;float:right;"][div style="font-family:times new roman;color:#460000;font-size:18px;letter-spacing:3px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:5px;margin-left:0px;"][font color="ffffff"]L[/font]uck be a [font color="fffff"]L[/font]ady[/div][/div][div style="width:110px;background-color:#b80000;float:left;padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;border-bottom:solid 10px #460000;margin-top:0px;"][div style="height:100px;width:100px;background-image:url('http://i777.photobucket.com/albums/yy54/tinomenge/Hetalia/Icons/1-3.png');border-radius:50px 50px 50px 50px;"][/div][div style="font-family:times new roman;color:#460000;margin-top:10px;font-size:12px;text-transform:lowercase;letter-spacing:2px;"][font color="ffffff"]w[/font]ord count[/div][div style="font-family:arial;font-size:10px;color:#460000;text-transform:lowercase;"]xxx[/div][div style="font-family:times new roman;color:#460000;margin-top:10px;font-size:12px;text-transform:lowercase;letter-spacing:2px;"][font color="ffffff"]t[/font]ags[/div][div style="font-family:arial;font-size:10px;color:#460000;text-transform:lowercase;"]@monanana[/div][div style="font-family:times new roman;color:#460000;margin-top:10px;font-size:12px;text-transform:lowercase;letter-spacing:2px;"][font color="ffffff"]n[/font]otes[/div][div style="font-family:arial;font-size:10px;color:#460000;text-transform:lowercase;"]guuh ok i'm not 100% satisfied with this but i hope it works ff. let me know if you want any changes~[/div][/div][div style="width:280px;margin-left:110px;margin-top:10px;"][div style="font-family:arial;color:#460000;font-size:10px;text-align:justify;padding:5px;"][div style="font-family:times new roman;color:#460000;float:left;font-size:29px;padding-right:5px;color:#b80000;"]M[/div]ost of the philosophical discussions of luck have been focussed upon the relevance of this concept to issues in ethics and, to a lesser degree, epistemology. The loci classici for the former debate in the recent literature is an exchange between Nagel (1979) and Williams (1979) on how luck undermines responsibility and thus, a fortiori, moral responsibility. Essentially, the concern raised is that there are morally relevant consequences of our actions which are due to luck, and that this undermines our moral responsibility for those actions. For instance, one example that is discussed by Nagel, and which has been the locus of a great deal of debate in the subsequent literature, is that of the drunk driver. Nagel asks us to compare two moral agents, both of whom drive home drunk, but only one of whom has the misfortune to kill an innocent bystander as a result. Nagel notes that our moral approbation of the ‘unlucky’ driver is far greater than our moral approbation of the ‘lucky’ driver, even though we are willing to grant, on reflection at least, that the only difference between the consequences of the two situations is a difference brought about by luck. It would appear then, argues Nagel, that luck has an influence on our moral judgements. Now one might respond to this sort of example by arguing that all it shows is that we should be more careful about our moral judgements by first being clear that the consequences at issue are not due to luck. But this will not do, contends Nagel, because there is a sense in which luck afflicts the consequences of all our actions since no matter how likely it was that what happened occurred in the way that it did, there is always the logical possibility that events could have been different and different in such a way that can be described as being affected by luck. We are thus faced with the dilemma of either abandoning the project of a luck-free system of moral assessment altogether (a system that Nagel and Williams attribute to Kant), or else radically revising our moral intuitions.[/div][/div][/div][div style="width:100px;font-family:arial;font-size:8px;color:#2b2b2b;text-align:right;padding-top:5px;border-top:solid 1px #460000;margin-left:290px;margin-top:10px;"]by worldie for mona[/div][/div]
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Feb 2, 2014 11:40:09 GMT -5 |
Post by Kylan Thomassen on Feb 2, 2014 11:40:09 GMT -5
whispers could I maybe get a pretty post code for Ky? ;w; I'd really appreciate one of your gorgeous layouts gah holdsface about them
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tears fall to the ground, i'll just let them d r o w n
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Feb 4, 2014 7:30:18 GMT -5 |
Post by Mihai C. Eliade on Feb 4, 2014 7:30:18 GMT -5
Word Count: xxx Notes: Hope this looks okay! Let me know if you'd like anything added. | A poor couple had three sons, the youngest of whom would lie about in the ashes. The oldest went to the king to enter his service. The king set him to watch his seven foals all day and find out what they ate and drank. If he succeeded, he would marry the princess and receive half the kingdom; if he failed, he would have three strips taken out of his back. The next morning, he had to chase after the seven foals and grew so tired that when an old woman, spinning, called him to stay with her and let her comb his hair, he did. In the evening, he was going to return home, but the old woman told him the seven foals would come back this way, and gave him moss and water to give to the king as what they ate and drank. The king had three stripes cut from his back and salt rubbed in them, and the oldest son went home. The middle brother tried next, but it went with him as with his older brother. The youngest brother decided to go, which made his brothers jeer at him and his parents plead, but he went. He took the same job as his brothers, but ran past the old woman, at which the youngest foal told him to ride it, because they had far to go. They reached a birch tree, and in a room inside it there were a sword and a pitcher. The foals asked him to wield the sword, which he could not, until he had drunk three times from the pitcher. They then made him promise to cut off their heads on his wedding day, because they were the princess's brothers, a troll had enchanted them into this form, and that would free them. Then they went on to a church where they received bread and wine from the priest, and the youngest son took some with him when they left. When the king received the bread and wine, he made arrangements for the wedding, and when the youngest son cut off the foals' head and restored them as princes to their father, the king promised him the entire kingdom after he died. there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue |
by worldie for becca [div align="center"][table style="width:400px;border-bottom:solid 10px #003757;border-right:solid 15px #003757;"][tbody][tr][td style="width:130px;background-color:#88a2b1;"][div align="center"][div style="height:100px;width:100px;border-radius:50px 50px 50px 50px;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/Y2phO.png');"][/div][div style="height:100px;width:100px;border-radius:50px 50px 50px 50px;background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/Y2phO.png');margin-top:10px;"][/div][div style="width:100px;background-color:#fff;opacity:0.7;padding-left:3px;padding-right:3px;padding-top:5px;padding-bottom:2px;margin-top:20px;border-left:solid 3px #003757;"][div style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:9px;color:#003757;text-align:left;"][b]Word Count[/b]: [font color="324050"]xxx[/font][/div][div style="margin-top:10px;font-family:times new roman;font-size:9px;color:#003757;text-align:left;"][b]Tags[/b]: [font color="324050"]@norsetales[/font][/div][div style="margin-top:10px;font-family:times new roman;font-size:9px;color:#003757;text-align:left;"][b]Notes[/b]: [font color="324050"]Hope this looks okay! Let me know if you'd like anything added.[/font][/div][/div][/div][/td][td style="background-image:url('http://i.imgur.com/hdz5hNd.jpg');padding-top:50px;padding-bottom:50px;padding-left:30px;padding-right:30px;"][div style="background-color:#fff;opacity:0.7;text-align:justify;padding:5px;font-size:11px;font-family:times new roman;color:#324050;"][div style="float:left;font-size:20px;color:#003757;padding-right:5px;"]A[/div] poor couple had three sons, the youngest of whom would lie about in the ashes.
The oldest went to the king to enter his service. The king set him to watch his seven foals all day and find out what they ate and drank. If he succeeded, he would marry the princess and receive half the kingdom; if he failed, he would have three strips taken out of his back.
The next morning, he had to chase after the seven foals and grew so tired that when an old woman, spinning, called him to stay with her and let her comb his hair, he did. In the evening, he was going to return home, but the old woman told him the seven foals would come back this way, and gave him moss and water to give to the king as what they ate and drank. The king had three stripes cut from his back and salt rubbed in them, and the oldest son went home.
The middle brother tried next, but it went with him as with his older brother.
The youngest brother decided to go, which made his brothers jeer at him and his parents plead, but he went. He took the same job as his brothers, but ran past the old woman, at which the youngest foal told him to ride it, because they had far to go. They reached a birch tree, and in a room inside it there were a sword and a pitcher. The foals asked him to wield the sword, which he could not, until he had drunk three times from the pitcher. They then made him promise to cut off their heads on his wedding day, because they were the princess's brothers, a troll had enchanted them into this form, and that would free them. Then they went on to a church where they received bread and wine from the priest, and the youngest son took some with him when they left.
When the king received the bread and wine, he made arrangements for the wedding, and when the youngest son cut off the foals' head and restored them as princes to their father, the king promised him the entire kingdom after he died.[/div][div style="text-align:right;color:#003757;font-family:georgia;font-style:italic;text-transform:lowercase;font-size:20px;padding-top:20px;margin-bottom:-45px;line-height:60%;margin-right:-25px;"]there is a cemetery of words buried beneath your tongue[/div][/td][/tr][/tbody][/table][div style="width:400px;font-family:arial;font-size:8px;color:#2b2b2b;text-align:right;padding-top:3px;"]by worldie for becca[/div][/div]
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Feb 4, 2014 9:09:16 GMT -5 |
Post by Kylan Thomassen on Feb 4, 2014 9:09:16 GMT -5
oh my gOSH I LOVE IT AAAAAH. The colors are so pretty and complimentary and the lyrics mg ;w; thE BACKGROUND EVEN LOOKS LIKE PAPER TOO JDHFBFD thank you so much cries it's amazing.
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Feb 4, 2014 15:28:19 GMT -5 |
Post by Ludwig A. Beilschmidt on Feb 4, 2014 15:28:19 GMT -5
*wrings fingers anxiously* Can I please ask for a template? I will draw you anything you want in return if you want something in return, please ;u;
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