✖ ✖ ✖ __ Your Pain-Killer


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Pssssssst.
I'ma chick. 8D


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They Call Me Bianca; Who The Fawk Are You? :D

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About

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Pfpth.

CODES BY ME ! YESTHATSRIGHT.

Anything copied below this line is; precarious.

I am androgynous. ********' deal.
I'm also PETER PANSEXUAL.
Ya diig? ;]



I like to spend my life doing the little things.
membership stats: '07. My life is outside of gaia ;)
Attending high school.
Occupation? Being unoccupied. & part time in restoring the public alliance. :) Interest include; guitar, writing, literature, concerts, harry ********' potter, movies, darth vadar, texting, video games all day err' day.
Music taste? Varies. From old school hip hop to classical orchestra to classic 50's to electronica, experimental, techno, indie pop and blues to deathcore and metalcore.
Appearance: Red hair, glasses, red the lipstick be, black and gray, band t-shirts, chuck taylor's, arrangement of bracelets, and other shaninagans.

Friends are for losers. I have bff's :}D



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I'D LET RIVER PHOENIX TAKE MY VIRGINITY.
[I FEEL LOVED. c:]
[-Lovely Signs-]
[xoxo][xoxo][xoxo][xoxo][xoxo][xoxo]


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S T A M P S ; B I O T C H! (;

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Fairy Quartz
Pain-Killer 4 Dead Angels

-[[Euphoric l Exchange]] ___l Quest Thread l___

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation,
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going;
And such an instrument I was to use.
Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses,
Or else worth all the rest; I see thee still,
And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood,
Which was not so before.

There's no such thing:
It is the bloody business which informs
Thus to mine eyes. Now o'er the one halfworld
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse
The curtain'd sleep; witchcraft celebrates
Pale Hecate's offerings, and wither'd murder,
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf,
Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy pace.
With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design
Moves like a ghost.

Thou sure and firm-set earth,
Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for fear
Thy very stones prate of my whereabout,
And take the present horror from the time,
Which now suits with it.

Whiles I threat, he lives:
Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath gives.
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me.
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell
That summons thee to heaven or to hell.