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someone should design me a sexy demon avi for under 40,000 gold

I own this stuff if it helps.

Fausto's Bottle
Rock Hard (Demonic Mic)
Imperial Queen
Elemental Wings
Coocoon
Dreamer's Dust
Gothic Veil
Snow Feather
Assassin's Guise
Pink Belled Ribbons
Scarlet Sprite
Bone Scythe
Christian Siriano's Purple Black Gown
Seafoam Gown
Pride of Hera
Raider Shih's Garment ((I have 2 of these))
Babe the Welsh Corgi
Unicorn
Moonstone Borealis
Bounty Hunter Wild West Duster Coat
Unicorn Horn
Midnight Gothic Bat Corset
Brass Raving Goggles
Demonic Anklets
Geronimo High Uniform Shirt
Silver Laurels
Heartstring
Nihonzaru

that won't work right on my laptop

I used to play Mabinogi, but then it stopped letting me log in for some reason.

All the new stuff this month is so cute. whee

And It Was Bad. By Sabastian Burke.
There once was a man who lived in a house. And it was good.
Then a theif in the night stole the chandelier from the great room. And it was bad.
And though it fell into depravity and the light was dimmed, the fire in it's place still roared on. And the house started to regain it's former glory. And it was fair.
And then the fire was without fuel and it slowly and painfully died off, due to something within it's self that exstinguished it's own life.
And the man was left without a light in the house, except for a candle, a match, and the morning sun.
The candle the man carried with him, And though it shone brightly for the man, it would sometimes never be where he left, and expected, and needed it to be in times where the man really did need it. And the candle was closest of all to the man. But the candle was always lit by the fire. And so the candle's light died too with the fire, but it would still stay near to the man. And eventually the candle would find a way to light up again. But not for a long time to come.
And the match try as it might was just a reminder of the great chandelier and the fire. The match reminded the man so much of his chandelier and fire that it hurt him to look at it. Yet the match tried to make the man happy after the chandelier was taken and even tried to help the fire stay as vibrant as ever even though the fire was slowly dying. And when the fire went out. The match grew even more painful to look at in the mans eyes. For the man new how much the match cared for the fire. And looking at the match made him grow even sadder than he already was.
The morning sun would come and go and sometimes when it was supposed to be there it wasn't due to chance circumstances that witheld it from being there. The sun wanted to be there. And truly cared for the man and his house. And at one point was even part of it. And so the sun saw that the fire had gone away. And was sad. For the sun was part of the house as well. Even though it would go and be away for awhile. The sun was still part of the beauty of the house. And the man was sad that the sun wasn't there when the fire died. For the man wasn't within the house when the fire died either. And so he did not know for several hours until he had returned to the house that the fire had died.
And it was bad. And the man saw this and wrote down his story. So that all peoples may know his misery.
The man was told that he should find his own light. And so he turned to outside his house. And he saw something shining just outside the window. And he went out to gather it for himself.
And the man was blessed with a flashlight.
That though sometimes he misplaced or that sometimes it wouldn't agree to work for him due to issues that would come up with the two batteries it needed to ask to work for it. He cherrished. And the man turned to the flashlight for comfort in this lightless house he held.
And the man was surprised to find that. Though the flashlight held light, and was always with him in his mind or near him. It gave off no heat, due to the glass in front of its light source.
But the man knew what to do. And he used the flashlight to find a heater within his own house. And the man was happy. And he cherrished the flashlight. And it was fair.
But the man still missed the fire and the chandelier. and though he was warm within himself and had source of light. He still would miss them both. For they were the brightest warmest lights in his house at that time. And they were lost to him. Still he cherished them. And it was bad.
And the man could see in the distance a future he might have. And it was fair in his eyes.
But for the time being. He saw nothing good aside from the flashlight. And it was bad. If only for that moment in time.
Yet the flame still burns, and the chandelier still twinkles with vibrant heat and light. If only in the man's mind. And, eventually, It was good.
And one day, when the man ventures to paradise, he will find his chandelier, and a new vibrant fire born from the embers of the old, within his house in paradise.
And all, will be, Good.
The End.


The figurative language:
The man is myself.
The house is my father's side of my family.
The chandelier is my grandmother.
The fire is my uncle.
The candle is my father.
The match is my aunt.
The morning sun is my sister.
This is the story.
The flashlight is my girlfriend who tried to comfort me but really couldn't because she didn't know my uncle.
The batteries are her parents.
His own house is my inner self.
The warmth within hisself is the comfort I recieved from my girlfriend during the time I was talking with her after it happened.
Paradise is heaven.

Oh, happy belated birthday! blaugh