❖ 「 ＯＢＬＩＶＩＯＮ 」 ♦♦ ‖ DGM ‖ O&A

[e m p y i e]

haha, better get off the comp before you get caught, owl! :O

[blindingly opalescent]

Profiles are due the 20th. And I'm almost done with Cathal, so he'll be up tonight now!!

.[ b l i n d i n g l y | o p a l e s c e n t ].

[blindingly opalescent]

xxxxx cathal xxxxx saxon xxxxx ackart xxxxx

【 CLUELESS MEATHEAD 】xxxxx «« xxxxx
xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈



xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ⋱ ⋱ ⋱ ESSENTIALdata ⇨

◤ Live; I wanna live inspired.
Die; I wanna die for something ◢

▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶
xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈


【 ❖ 】xxxxx ADDRESSING
xxxxx ( call me → scream for me → come seek me out )
Cath, Cae, b*****d, hey there sexy...

【 ❖ 】xxxxx CELEBRATION
xxxxx ( the special day → that celebrates me → the day i took my first breath )
November 11th - 19 years old

【 ❖ 】xxxxx IDENTITY
xxxxx ( it's quite obvious → you can tell at first sight → but just in case )
Male

【 ❖ 】xxxxx CHOICE
xxxxx ( my decision → it's my lifestyle → to choose who i love )
Uhhhhh....does adrenaline count?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ⋱ ⋱ ⋱ CLOSERinspection ⇨

◤ Lose no time; cannot survive.
I made mistakes in the past.
Need a chance; can't take it back.
Wish I could set things right tonight ◢

▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶
xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈


【 ❖ 】xxxxx EXTERIOR
xxxxx ( take a look → get in close → the beauty of me )
Head to toe - quickest way to get through this, after all. He doesn't have the time to sit here and pose while getting the once-over. Life is too short to waste, especially when he should be practicing. Or working. Crap, he should be working, shouldn't he? Well, get on with it already!

His hair is short, though it never stays short enough, usually growing out to some matted mess on the top of his head. Its not long enough to hinder vision, but its most definitely long enough to tell everyone 'hey, guess who didn't brush their hair this morning!'. Not that it matters; the only people he sees during the day wouldn't really care. It's an awkward mix of blonde and orange, what he sees as the only link to his Irish heritage. Besides his eyes - oh boy, those eyes. A deep blue that only seem to shine on the field, or court, or any other place of competition. They say the eyes are the window to the soul. Looking into Cathal's, anyone would get a sense of his overall goals in life: win. Win win win win win, get this done so I can play. He's really not that complicated of a person, though on occasion he's been told he looks scary. Serious. As if he's...thinking? What? Cathal thinking? You've got the wrong brute. Back to the task at hand, his eyes are blue. That's supposed to be Irish, right? Because he surely doesn't have the skin - his own a nice shade of tan. Not the sort of even-tan you get when you actually try. No, he's got those awkward 'pant'-lines and a faint sleeve-tan - faint only because he does his best to get on the 'skins' team. Less fabric means less to slow you down, right? High cheek bones and a defined jaw have given him many a compliment by the women he's actually spoken with, the few and far between.

The rest of his body is built like a man (gasp!). Toned, or muscular depending on the person, body is kept in shape on a regular basis. He's not the strongest, nor is he the fastest, but he likes to think of himself as a nice medium. He doesn't care much for the simple 'keep in shape to look good' philosophy. His work-outs are to help him get better. To jump higher, run faster, turn quicker - and if he can't get faster, its to keep up his skills. No way in hell is he going to give up the ability to say he can do four hundred and twenty-nine push-ups on handed! (okay, maybe it was twenty eight, but who was counting?) His skin doesn't harbor a sink freckle, though the amounts of pumps and bruises and scrapes surely make up for it. Calloused, rough hands can grip anything from a sword to a ball to a stick to a gun without worrying about it slipping. Hand-eye coordination could be seen as his best quality, and that reason alone is the reason he has yet to have any real scars or disfigurements. I mean, come on, if you were as intense as he was 24/7, you'd expect your body to break down too. But will-power and natural ability keep him afloat and alive. Until that next rugby game, ohhh that big guy is so going down.

Clothes? Uhhhh...is none an option? They catch and are annoying and just...gah. Whatever. His wardrobe consists mostly of work-clothes. He doesn't have much money for the leisurely types of things. Including fancy clothes. Not that he's really want to wear them anyways. There's nothing that can replace a good pair of work-boots, a sturdy pair of pants, and T-shirts. Preferably without sleeves. He'll wear the thick gloves and helmet if the job calls for it, but the less fabric used the better. They get too hot too quickly anyways. As far as during sports? Anything that's light and easy. That could mean shorts, some thinner type of shoes (usually fixed with multiple rolls of tape - its not like he has the money to buy new pairs), no shirt, anything that won't stop him from running his hardest or jumping his highest. After all that he works for, he's not going to let a faulty pair of shoes get in his way.

【 ❖ 】xxxxx INTERIOR
xxxxx ( something you can't see → hidden deep inside → understanding me )
Cathal does not like complexities. The quickest way from point A to point B is a straight line, so why bother with false smiles or faked appearances? The kind of people that hide behind masks and pretend to be someone who they, as well as everyone else, know they are not piss him off. People should not try to bury their true intentions, hold back what they truly mean. There's no point - it comes out eventually, anyways. Cathal lives by this principle, coming off as a simple person, which he really doesn't mind. The simpler the actions, the easier to counter-act - he doesn't want to give himself the upper-hand now does he? It's not like he needs any help. Confident almost to the point of arrogance, Cathal has a nasty little problem of looking down on those he doesn't know. And, unless proven otherwise, he will continue to think poorly of this said stranger - the main reason for his inability to make many friends. There are a few short-cuts to his good-side, of course: 1) be a worthy competitor, 2) compliment/agree with him, and 3) go drinking with him. He is part, or maybe totally, Irish - whiskey runs in the blood.

Orphaned at a young age and left to fend for himself on the streets, Cathal grew up learning to be independent. Even after, finally, being picked up by some strange man on the streets of London he still had a hard time trusting others. The only one anyone could depend on would be themselves, because that is the only person they will ever know completely, without having to worry about lies. This hatred for acting probably came from Cathal's uncanny ability to tell when someone's lying - being the type who has never told a lie (what was the point?) it tends to be easy to see on others - and immediate dislike of the liar. Just like there are three easy ways to win over his heart, there are three just-as-easy ways to lose any chance of respect. 1) Lie to him, 2) hurt one of the few people he cares about, and 3) insult him. Easily angered, Cathal has no filter when it comes to his rage and will not hesitate if he believes someone needs a good punch to the face. And no one can deny the fact this boy can fight - fighting is a sport.

Normally he's a pretty easy-going person with good intentions. It doesn't take much to notice the good things in life, especially when your background is nothing but the bad. The only way to go is up, right? Well, that's true for Cathal. He's actually made that his goal in life - the betterment of both his life and the life of those he cares about. He is a caring person, or can be, under the right conditions. Earn his trust and just like a dog he will stay loyal - until you screw up. He's forgiving, but only if there is grounds for someone to be forgiven. And sorry, but an apology is not enough. Its a dog-eat-dog world and if you surround yourself with puppies, how can you be sure you'll ever win?

That's another philosophy he lives by - dogs eat dogs. Fend for yourself when the time comes. Most people are inherently evil-natured and must be seen as such. Just as mentioned before, the only person anyone can trust is themselves. And even then, the only thing you can trust is your gut. Your head is filled with too many thoughts, too many ideas, that it will do nothing confuse you. If you feel like you should shoot, shoot. The why will come whether you ask it or not. This aspect of him usually makes people see him as, well, stupid. And, in the literal meaning of the term, he might very well be. Without a day of schooling other than what kids pick up on the streets, Cathal is illiterate and uneducated. He never really needed to learn how to read a book when pick-pocketing those rich bastards. Street-smarts worked just fine for him. This also goes under the title of 'clueless' because, honestly, Cathal doesn't like wasting energy learning things that are too complicated. He'd rather act than learn, which usually leaves him tilting his head when all things are said and done. But who cares how things work! As long as he wins, he's fine.

And then, of course, we can't forget about the most important part of Cathal's life...

Sports.

Absolutely everything about sports from practicing to playing is what Cathal enjoys. He loves the competition, the feeling of accomplishment, the rivalries, the chance to trust without getting hurt, the thrill of winning, the pain of losing, everything. Though Cathal may be slow, with sports he might as well be a genius. No matter the game, give him a quick run-through of the rules and whatever it is he needs to play with and he'll have it mastered with one practice game - and if not, that will be the only thing on his mind until he does master it. He's obsessed with learning new moves, coming up with new combos, anything as long as it involves intuition and competition. Who cares if you know what four times eleven is when you can murder someone on the field?

【 ❖ 】xxxxx TIMELESS
xxxxx ( let's go back → delve my past → the story of my life )
Dublin during the late nineteeth century was not, exactly, paradise. James Joyce said it best, explaining that "No one who has any self-respect stays in Ireland, but flees afar as though from a country that has undergone the visitation of an angered Jove". In a country still healing after the Great Irish Famine, poverty ruled the country. Just like many during that age, Cathal was born only to be abandon - left on the steps of some over-populated, run-down orphanage in Dublin. He does not remember anything about this orphanage, despite their care of him for nearly six years. All that he remembers is how, one day, he was no longer there. Inadequate funding, help, and too much of a need, the orphanage eventually shut down. Just like the other fifty children who used to call the orphanage home, the young Cathal was left to fend for himself on the unforgiving streets of Dublin. Not exactly the kind of lifestyle anyone would want for such a strapping young lad.

He stayed close to the other children, led by the elders (of anywhere from nine to fifteen) until their one big break came along. There had been stories of getting out of the city. Of leaving, of having the best adventure in the world - to another country. The older kids talked of England like it was a heaven on earth. Like God had smiled upon the island right next door, and all they had to do was get over there. For months they seemed to plan, some of the more risk-takers usually setting out just to see if they could make it. A few of them came back, while a few were never heard from again. There were stories that started to circulate about the few that didn't come back - how some of them got caught by the police and were in jail, how others had been swallowed by the sea, lured in by sirens and torn to pieces. They became heroes to the children on the streets, martyrs for the cause of finding a better life. After a couple of years Cathal became tired of hearing about these stories, about others doing what the rest were too scared to even attempt. That was when he decided that he would leave - he would escape the hell that was Ireland and make it to England. He'd succeed where all the others had failed. He would.

So with careful planning, he and a few of his closest mates devised the perfect escape. There was a cargo ship, carrying various objects from Dublin straight to London. That would be their ride. In the dead of night they stowed away on the ship, hiding amongst the livestock, reveling in the idea of becoming legends. They would make it to London, they would find parents who would take them in and make them a part of their families, and later - after being taught how to live in the higher classes - they would return. Bring all the others to London with them to live in a new orphanage that their new parents would have started in their honor. Then they'd travel the world, discover new lands, and be kings. It would all work out because they were on their way - the hardest part was over. In London, everything would be better. For all of them.

And who knew? Maybe it would have been. However, not all of them managed to survive the trip over. By the time the ship was unloading, Cathal was the only one left - he did always win at hide-and-seek back with his friends. And the sailors weren't exactly forgiving when it came to stow-aways. Stepping onto the streets of London was quite possible the most magical experience of his entire life. He had made it. He was a hero. He had his entire life in front of him and the possibilities that presented themselves were endless.

That was when reality sunk in. It wasn't instantaneous, that sinking feeling. No, it took another year or so. Turns out his charitable family wasn't waiting for him on the docks. They didn't pass him on the streets and they weren't looking for him at any of the orphanages. The old buildings still leaked during storms and it was still cold in winter. The police were still chasing thieves and he was still, always hungry. For a year he lived just like he had back in Dublin - but this time it was different. This time he had no group of companions he could seek refuge with. He had no friends, no family, nothing. People on the street weren't as friendly as he remembered, nor were they very willing to share. For one year he survived; a lowly, eight year old boy with broken English and an Irish accent. And truth be told, he probably wouldn't have been able to make it for much longer than that.

Thankfully, that was when he was managed to make a friend. An older friend, who was a bit more experienced as far as acquiring food was concerned, and who was amiable enough to share a bit of it. Not for free, though - Cathal always had to do a few things for his share. Though that usually involved stealing something (items were much easier to grab than food, and he was quite fast) or just beating him in some game. His name was Aran and he was Irish and soon enough the two bonded. Thanks to Aran, the boy was introduced to the successful street-life and his one true love: sports.

Aran wasn't much of an athlete himself, having broken his leg back in his early years (the man was getting close to his fifties when Cathal met him) and it never healed correctly. However, he knew quite a bit about the games. Enough to teach Cathal, and profit from the boys innate talent. They made a good team - the boy wonder who would keep up with a horse in a race and the mastermind who would twist any game to his advantage. Together they made money, stole food, and survived in a much more luxurious way than either were used to - though luxurious is a bit deceiving. More like...a more decent lifestyle. One that did not involve going without food for nearly a week at a time. Aran was also much more of a people-person than Cathal, eventually attracting a few good mates and persuading them to stick around long enough to be considered a family. For a few years he lived like this - playing sports, making money, living on the streets...it was better than his old life, that was for sure, but it was no royal lifestyle. But he was happy, and that was all that mattered.

Cathal's first interaction with akuma happened on his twelfth birthday (or what he decided would be his birthday, and twelve years old sounded about right) - Aran had taken him to some bazaar in town and had told him to 'take wha'eveh ye like'. They had just arrived when some commotion had started up. Commotion that involved large explosions, lots of screaming, and chaos. He was just about to snatch some expensive-looking lighter-thing when he heard Aran yelling at him to run. He looked up just in time to see a giant, clown-like thing coming at him. Just as he was told, he ran, weaving in and out of the mod of terrified festival-goers. Aran was behind him, not as small thus not as agile when it came to people-dodging, and normally Cathal wouldn't have even cared. He needed to get out and wait for him in safety, every man for himself. But something in him told him to look back, just in time to see the thing (which he later learned was an akuma) destroy a booth right in front of Aran. He was trapped.

Instinct took over almost instantly and Cathal stopped, looking around at the booths to his side and grabbing the first thing he could. Just so happened they were guns - two matching, awkwardly large pistols. Thinking back on it later that day, he really had no idea why he picked those to out over any of the other ones. Something about them drew him in. Good thing, too, for when he fired them up at the monster, they actually worked. The bullets which they fired seemed a bit...different. And when he missed they created a bit more than just a bullet hole, but they worked when it came to stopping the akuma. Hell, they destroyed the b*****d. And when everything was said and done, Cathal couldn't put them down. Quite literally.

Later that night Aran gave in to letting him keep the guns, naming them Áine and Morrígan after the Irish goddesses. Aran was Irish, and was quite educated when it came to the tales of their homeland. He was actually the one to teach Cathal everything he knows, going over the tales of the Ulster and Ulaid Cycle and explaining the tales of the great kings like any teacher would explain simple math. And to him, these tales were much more important that adding and subtracting.

For a few years he kept the two guns, practicing with them only when akuma would show themselves (which happened to be a lot more often than he would have expected) or when he could find some cove down by the sea; where sudden craters wouldn't seem too out of place. Or noticeable. It was another few years until he was found by another older man - this time someone from what he called The Black Order. He said he could train him to use his guns properly and help him fight more of those akuma. Being seventeen, Cathal liked the idea of an adventure and Aran said it was a good idea if he left - going off with people who knew what they were doing rather than trying to figure it out on his own - so they said their goodbyes. It wasn't easy, don't get him wrong, leaving the only family he'd really known, but the drive to better himself was greater than his need to stay. He'd come back, he was sure of it, but for now he'd leave. Cathal was then left in the hands of this Good Samaritan guy for another two years before finding his way to the Black Order headquarters. In comparison to everyone else, he is still a total novice at this 'akuma-hunting'. But he's good at it, so why not try it out?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ⋱ ⋱ ⋱ INNERstrength ⇨

◤ It's my time, cannot survive.
I made mistakes in the past.
Need a chance; can't say goodbye.
Wish I could set things right tonight. ◢

▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶
xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈


【 ❖ 】xxxxx FIGHTER
xxxxx ( to protect → all those important → with the weapon to do all that )
Cathal's innocence takes the form of two guns. About twelve inches in length, two inches thick and four inches tall. Truth is, he has absolutely no idea what they are made of, their history, or anything about them other than the basics. He doesn't even know if they have more abilities than the few he uses. What he does know, though, is that Áine and Morrígan never need bullets, cleaning, or any other kind of maintenance. He knows that when others try to pick them up they seems to be unbelievably heavy (despite feeling like air to him) and that they will not fire for anyone other than him. Oh the power of Innocence. They are two identical firearms, except for the color of their designs. The one he uses in his left hand has a white accent, which he calls Aine after the Irish goddess of love. The one in his right hand has red where Aine has white, and he calls that gun Morrígan, after the Irish goddess of war and death. He usually carries his girls on the opposite sides from which he uses them, mostly because its more logical in order to draw them quickly to reach across his body. They sit on his hips, in holsters that he made himself from bits and pieces of old leather shoes he had ruined from too much use.

【 ❖ 】xxxxx SHELTER
xxxxx ( granting me power → power to guard → the hidden abilities behind it )
→ The Crow | Morrígan's Pride - This attack is solely done by Cathal's red gun, Morrígan. By shooting off one round straight up into the sky, he is able to cast a shadow over the entire battlefield. Within this shadow various things, that Cathal thinks of as crows, constantly bombard the enemy. These crows will also follow the enemy if they try to flea. The degree of darkness as well as the strength of the 'crows' depend fully on his concentration and the amount of overall energy he puts into the attack. At times it can be impressively strong, but at others it can be an almost useless attack.

→ A Midsummer's Night | Tribute to Áine - Just as The Crow is solely a right-handed attack, Midsummer's Night is solely a left attack, only using Áine. He shoots off one bullet from Áine, that bullet turning into various smaller balls of white energy. Just like Cathal sees the dark 'creatures' in Morrígan's attack as crows, these smaller balls of white energy are fairies (seeing as Áine was the fairy goddess) that encircle the enemy before attaching themselves onto them and sinking into their bodies. Cathal isn't quite sure what happens when the fairies become embedded within whomever he attacked, but he does know that akuma end up self-destructing with this attack. Something to do with 'healing' the cursed being? He doesn't know. This attacks varies with the size of the akuma - the larger the thing, the more fairies he needs to send off in that direction. What happens to humans he has no idea, because he's never needed to use either of his girls on a human before. Fists tend to work just as well with that species.

→ A Woman Scorned | Revenge of the Goddesses - This is one of Cathal's favorite attacks. Although it lacks in elegance, class, strategy, and anything that would make it a higher-level attack, its simplicity is what gets him. This attacks involves nothing more than a continuous onslaught from both of his guns. This rapid firing ends only when Cathal finds it fit. It's quite the adrenaline attack, standing there, producing this wave of bullets in order to totally annihilate the enemy - back at home, when he's run into a level one or two akuma every now and then, this attack was more than enough to end the battle. The only problem with it, though, is that it not only destroys the enemy, but anything around it. He has no control over the bullets and if in an area of high population, will more often than not harm an innocent bystander. Or the scenery. Immensely.

→ The Love of War | Áine and Morrígan - Though he'd never admit it, this is the attack Cathal has the hardest time mastering. Its not like he could go practice, anyways. The attack involves both guns, much like A Woman Scorned, however instead of producing a multitude of bullets, this attack's use is to create one. By synchronizing both Áine and Morrígan he is able to merge the energies of the two and create somewhat of a 'super-bullet' that, as far as he knows, can destroy anything. However, the size and power of this 'super-bullet' depends solely on Cathal's will-power, concentration, strength and control - all of which he has yet to totally master. If asked about the attack, he'd call it his 'secret weapon'. A.k.a. a work in progress. Don't get him wrong, its not as if he was just too lazy to work on it, he really just can't find a safe place to practice. Someone would notice the giant craters taken out from the cliff-side sooner or later, right?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ⋱ ⋱ ⋱ DIMINUTIVEdetails ⇨

◤ Don't wanna leave this world, knowing I've lived in vain.
No time for myself; so sorry, so ashamed.
Don't wanna leave this life, knowing I've barely tried.
Chase down all my dreams that I've hid away on the inside. ◢

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xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈


【 ❖ 】xxxxx FANCY
xxxxx ( sugar → with some spice → it's just all so nice )

- sports
- water
- adrenaline
- red meat
- working out
- grass
- sleep
- beer/alcohol in general
- smoking


【 ❖ 】xxxxx DETEST
xxxxx ( slugs → and horrible bugs → disgusting things i'll never get near )

- being tired
- being sick
- salad
- hunger
- death
- crying


【 ❖ 】xxxxx HORROR
xxxxx ( don't come near → i just can't stand → it drives me to fright )

- screwing up
- getting hurt (permanently)
- being totally alone
- ending up where he started
- being helpless


【 ❖ 】xxxxx FURTHER
xxxxx ( just little tidbits → it's not that important → but you should know )
Cathal speaks in a cockney accent, if he goes off in a rant it can sometimes sound a bit Irish. He's not exactly an educated man, but knows a strange amount about Celtic myths. Oh. And he can't read.

【 ❖ 】xxxxx INTERACTION
xxxxx ( best friends → worst enemies → we all have them )
He doesn't take much notice his his relationships, because he likes to think he's friendly enough to have actual, you know, friends. But, as everyone else seems to know other than him, he doesn't have any real ones. Friends, that is. Sure, there are guys every now and then whom he can go have a good time with playing some game or going out to have a drink with, but he can't honestly call them friends. Not close ones. The Good Samaritan is the only one he can really go to, trust, all that 'friendship' stuff that he always misses out on in new places - back home, it was another story. But he was in the Black Order now. And all he seems to be good at is annoying everyone.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx ⋱ ⋱ ⋱ TRUEcolors ⇨

◤ Live; I wanna live on fire. Die; I wanna burn out brighter.
Brighter than the Northern Lights.
Wanna live to feel the daylight.
The more I live I see, this life's not about me ◢

▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶ ▷ ▶
xxxxx █ ▌ −−−−−−−−−−−−−−− ✈


【 ❖ 】xxxxx ALLIANCE
xxxxx ( know me now → and the side i take → the enemy or the hero that you will face )
Black Order.

【 ❖ 】xxxxx ECHO
xxxxx ( hum it → or you can sing it → the tunes to my life )
Burn Out Brighter - Anberlin
Without You - Breaking Benjamin

【 ❖ 】xxxxx SYMBOLIZE
xxxxx ( let me talk → and take on the action → a spectral of rainbows )
one and two

【 ❖ 】xxxxx POWER
xxxxx ( behind the scenes → there's one who controls → and the ultimate creator )
blindingly opalescent

[t a i w o n t o n]

xx
___________________________i c o n s b y m a s t u r b a s i a @ l j
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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○▰▰▰ ▸ ▹
AKDJAKAWKS
FINISHED PROFILE.
*pounces on*

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○◂ ◃ ▰▰▰
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[blindingly opalescent]

;Db

.[ b l i n d i n g l y | o p a l e s c e n t ].

[PARANOiA EVOLUTiON xx]

Kumi's probably gonna change her name to something like x S A K U M i i - - or something.
But then again, she wants something cool... But wants to keep Kumi in it. D<

Oh, and idk what I wanna be still. xD

[P a n d u G o d]

<3

[The Night Owl]

[/spazzes] OMG. profile ; u;

[lassalu stari]

« ┊ x i`ll xxx ￭ xxx EAT xxx ￭ xxx you up x ┊ »
y o u r xxx l o v e xxxxx ↘↘↘ xxxxx y o u r xxx l o v e

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LULU SEES A PROFILE HOMG!
( /spazz attack )

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

﹙ xxx c a n ` t xxxxx ￭ xxxxx g e t xxxxx ￭ xxxxx e n o u g h xxx ﹚
﹙ xxx i xxxxx ￭ xxxxx t h i n k xxxxx ￭ xxxxx i ` m xxxxx ￭ xxxxx i n xxxxx ￭ xxxxx l o v e xxx ﹚

[The Night Owl]

[/somersaults in]

[D o l l ! e]

/noms on Owlie
D8<

[The Night Owl]

Ohaiyo Dollie~ <333

[D o l l ! e]

Hey Owlie ~
/noms <3333

[The Night Owl]

[/nommed on] <3333~

How are you Dollie~?

[D o l l ! e]

I am good ~ :3
How are you?
O:<