pay_the_piper | Mar. 24th, 2008

Mar. 24th, 2008

1) I think I coughed up a lung today. My eyes hurts and every time I think I have stopped coughing I start coughing again.

2) I have finally found a DSA song I don't mind so much. Well two. One I like more than the other. Anyway, an interesting comment was spotted on Youtube about it. Someone was all "Deadborn tries to sound too much like Manson!!"

Do you know how laughable that is? Granted, Deadborn isn't my idea of a great singer, but he beats Manson out in my opinion.

3) I need to do like a billion reps. :/ I can't start new things until I finally finish some of this stuff. It is getting out of hand on top of all the other stuff.

EDIT: I also want a pretty banner, but I'm all "I don't want to make it." How lazy is that? I have the picture, I'm just all "I can't makes it as pretty". In Reality, mine aren't exactly ugly. Ug. I need help.

It is probably because I was really happy with my LJ layout. And I'm not using my LJ anymore and IJ stuff is slowly being learned.

Current Mood: sick

<center><table width="604" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="1"> <tr> <img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a37/heraldofzeus/Not%20Honest/samtorrance.jpg"> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>SAM TORRANCE</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>BASIC INFORMATION</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">[Name:] Sam Torrance [Age:] ~600 (appears 40) [Birthday:] 1490s [Race:] Demon [Family:] N/A</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"> Sam appears to be a human Caucasian male in his 40s, not exactly pale or pasty, but he certainly doesn't tan well. He has pretty eyes that tend towards blue and in certain casts of sunlight almost seem to glow blue. In certain casts of moonlight they bleach more towards silver. His black hair is going very slightly salty, but it isn't thinning or receding any, and he keeps himself in good physical shape. He has a slightly thinned mouth and lips that, while made for smiling and kissing, are also made for smirking and spitting insults. It's a fine line between the two, with him, sometimes. He dresses professionally when out and about, but in the home prefers soft cotten slacks and t-shirts, almost like the sort of clothes one might wear for yoga. He goes around barefoot at home or at places where he's comfortable more often than not. Going out tends to be much like going to work, only slightly less formal. He rarely wears just jeans and t-shirts, even more rarely wears anything other than slacks and dress shirts or at-home wear. His ears are not pierced and the only jewelry he wears is a gold ring on either ring finger. Sam carries himself with authority but not arrogance, with poise and grace but not to the extent that he is effeminate. More of a martial grace, on very rare occasions he can be caught doing tai-chi in the parks. Which explains some of it. He likes crouching on the ground, balancing on the balls of his feet. He likes standing almost as though he's lounging, with his arms folded over his chest. He likes it mostly because it makes him look superior without being in-your-face about it. The most terrifying part of his demon form isn't any one attribute, but the wrongness of it. The planes of his face are misaligned, the way his body fits together suggests humanity but is twisted in ways no human should be able to tolerate. It creates a dissonance in the viewer's mind that tends to make the ordinary sort of human either look away or go mad. </td><tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>PERSONALITY</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Sam is a bundle of contradictions wrapped up in one coolly controlled package. He is highly intelligent, and knows it, and far too self-aware of his strengths and weaknesses to be easily distracted or defeated. Possibly the only mitigating factor to that is that he's just as likely to defeat himself out of self-loathing as he is to counter every attempt to topple him from whatever perch he's found. Most of the time his professional appearance requires him to be calm and stoic, and so he is. But internally Sam is bipolar, sometimes violently so. His moods swing from manic to listless and depressed and back again, generally without warning or seeming connection to outside stimuli. He could rage at you one minute and be begging your forgiveness the next, equally sincere in both moods. Sam is tactile with those he feels comfortable enough to touch and aloof with those he doesn't. He needs to be petted, to be loved, physically as well as the emotional connection. When he doesn't have an inner circle of two to three people, a support network (not that he would admit to it) he can and will sleep around, to the point where the clinical observer might call him a sex addict. It's a poor substitute but the easiest for him to come by. Sam is a manipulator. If there is a straightforward statement, he will look for the hidden meaning. If there is a clear motivation, he will look for the two or three behind it. It's entirely possible that he can't stop manipulating the circumstances around him, even a little bit. He says he can and does, but it's hard to be certain whether or not that's the case. Sam is one hell of a charming SOB, and the danger is in his knowledge. He's very good at reading people and knowing them, or at least acting like he does. If he doesn't know something he'll make an educated guess, and pretend it's the truth. Worst of all, he knows how to be good. He knows the difference between good and evil. He knows what people want from him, wanting him to be a good person. He simply isn't.</td><tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>HISTORY</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Samael likes to believe he wasn't so much born as came into existance, but it's a total lie. He made his way through youth and adulthood by a slow process of being broken, repeatedly and constantly by those stronger and more powerful. His memories for the first twenty years or so of life are sensory impressions of mud, blood, bodily fluids, and rain. He doesn't talk about it to anyone, ever, although he'll occasionally write about it without referencing the specifics if he's feeling melancholy. After that he grew bolder, more vicious. He made his way to court and spent some time lying, cheating, sleeping around, and stealing what he could to gain himself a title. As fortunes and religions changed he rose to power and then lost it all when the regime turned over, back into the mud with him. It was that first abrupt rise and fall that taught him that the place to be is not on the throne, not even behind it, but a few steps away watching from comfort and relative safety. Lessons that stood him in good stead later in France, during the revolution, in the Russias with the Bolsheviks, and even now, in modern London. After the Blitz Sam moved to London, and during the cultural revolution of youth and glam and slowly cascading into the British invasion of rock and roll he made his home there. He went quickly through one incarnation over a period of about fifteen years, shooting on an almost meteoric rise to the top of the charts as bisexual, hypersexual rock star Darren Sweet and then abruptly "dying" of a drug overdose in the middle of a drunken orgy. Legend has it that one of his male lovers was still having sex with his corpse when they realized what had happened. All a lie, of course. All staged for the benefit of the press. He re-emerged as the son of one of his backers, heir to a media empire with all of Darren Sweet's music catalogue at his fingertips. He parlayed the profits from record sales into a small recording studio, which with his apparent knack for discovering soon to be big hit bands became a large recording studio. Sam now maintains a country estate in Wiltshire, and a townhouse in London where he spends large chunks of time developing new talent or pushing a new record. Although the industry in general and his outfit in particular seem to support a lavish and decadent lifestyle, he is famous for only being romantically linked, long-term, to two women in his life. The first, Marlene Dubois, tragically committed suicide in 1992. The second, Cassie Donovan, who apparently entered his life three years later, is also a dancer in a few West End plays and has appeared in several of his bands' music videos. She is also, notably, a little over half his age.</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>WEAKNESSES</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"> Sam has needs. Lots of needs. Sam needs to be admired or adored or worshipped or what have you, even if it's only by one person at a time. If he's isolated for too long or ignored or a faceless cog he gets cranky and erratic. He needs to touch and be touched. He needs to be able to play, no matter how vicious or nasty the play gets. He needs to hurt; he's as much a masochist as he is a sadist. When these needs aren't met, he gets more erratic than he already is, which in and of itself is a weakness. Holy places, items, and symbols weaken him, being one big reason why he's never gotten married (contrary to media speculation that he enjoys his player lifestyle). Those that choose to be "good" are often weaker than other demons, and there are times when Sam chooses to be good, weakening himself. Sometimes, not so much. Animals can sense his true nature, often reacting to a sense of "danger". He hides this by keeping a cat that, somehow, doesn't seem to mind him. He tends to be isolated, aloof, and cranky during the day, being weaker during the day and stronger at night and in the shadows.</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>STRENGTHS</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Sam is perceptive, as much aware of his own faults and how to attempt to compensate for them (he doesn't often succeed totally) as he is aware of the faults, needs, and strengths of others. He can be genuinely nice, even, which helps some of the manipulation. He does care about some people, although the caring is directly proportionate to how much adoration and attention they send his way. He can be patient, thinking in terms of weeks and months and even years when considering a plan, able to delay gratification as long as he is also able to see that it is within reach. Black magic and unholy places/items give strength to demons, and as such, to Sam. In demon form he can sharpen his teeth and talons, which provide an advantage in combat, as can his supremely flexible body. He can influence other-races to do things that are outside of their nature, although he prefers to use less "vulgar" methods. </td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#D6CDCA"><center>OUT OF CHARACTER</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">[PB:] Christian Bale The icons used for this character are not all mine. If they are your icons alert me and I will give credit where credit is due. The profile banner is my own. [Disclaimer:] I am not Christian Bale, and her face is only borrowed. This is not real, and I am in no way advocating any of the activities this fictional character takes part in. Sam Torrance is a creation of my own mind, please to not copy/take/borrow anything that is her or connected to her. This journal may contain violent, adult situations so please no minors.</td></tr></table>

Current Mood: creative

<center><table width="604" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="1"> <tr> <img src="http://i8.photobucket.com/albums/a37/heraldofzeus/Not%20Honest/Image1.jpg"> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>JEAN-JULIAN ALEXANDRE MARAIS</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>BASIC INFORMATION</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">[Name:] Jean-Julian Alexandre Marais [Age:] 177 [Birthday:] December 12, 1831 [Race:] Vampire [Family:] Father: Jean-Jacques. Mother: Mathilde. Brother: Thierry (born 1842) All deceased.</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"> Julian appears to be approximately nineteen years old. He is small, about 5'7, and quite thin. His skin is very pale and he has no scars. His hair is black, not quite shoulder length. He does not like to tie it back, preferring to wear it loose. His eyes are blue/green. He cannot be described as beautiful, but he's pretty enough with his flawless complexion and the baby face that makes him look younger - and a great deal more innocent - than he is. Others are likely to see him as a shy and somewhat awkward boy, perhaps even a bit odd. Julian is aware of this and apt to use it when it is to his advantage not to be noticed. Julian is not into fashion, and so scarcely bothers about what he wears. His love of pretty things and his rather stylish sire's influence have improved his taste somewhat, but he doesn't like clothes and would much prefer to go naked if he could possibly get away with it. Obviously, this would attract attention, even in these modern times, as would wearing the nineteenth century clothes in which he feels most comfortable. He tends to dress simply, in a manner not altogether modern but not quite anachronistic enough to arouse suspicion. At worst, he might be mistaken for a makeup-shy goth. He prefers shirts of a simple design and dark trousers (he owns several pair in leather), boots and long, close-fitting coats.</td><tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>PERSONALITY</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Julian's basic innocence has endured, though it has been sorely tested since he was embraced some one hundred fifty years ago. A product of a rather sheltered upbringing, he knew very little about the world when he suddenly found himself alone, transformed into something he didn't understand. He carries deep emotional scars from the loss of his family and his relationship with God. He does not trust strangers easily, but does not to go great lengths to disguise what he is. He is very quick to bare his fangs and hiss when threatened or afraid. Though he does feel guilty about the lives he takes, he is very aware of his abilities and will not hesitate to use them to survive. Though Julian is standoffish and shy, if not downright wary, once someone has his trust he is extremely loyal. He is drawn to older and wiser males who can serve as father figures and mentors, but also has a soft spot for those younger than he. He has a great thirst for knowledge, thinking himself to be quite ignorant, and is eager and glad for someone to teach him just about anything. Julian is an odd mix of innocence and darkness. He can be quite naïve at times, even sweet, but he has a quick temper and is apt to lash out, reacting first and thinking later, if at all. He relies heavily on the courtly manners taught to him by his adopted sire, Leo, but it's mostly artifice, a thin veneer of civilization over a well-meaning but feral boy. He still has vivid memories of living as a wild boy in the French forest. He spent months alone, hiding in the daytime and hunting at night. During that time, the life he remembered - his village, his family, his church - all fell away and he became an animal on two legs, a predator driven by insatiable hunger. He slew many from the surrounding farms and villages before he was driven out by angry mobs. Julian likes to drink, favoring sweet wine, and smokes on occasion. He likes music and dancing, though he does not know the modern ones. He likes to read despite not being entirely proficient, though he is better at French than English. He craves companionship, but can also be quite solitary. He can spend hours curled up on his bed, reading books or practicing his writing, or working on lessons set to him by his sire. He does not like loud voices. He does not like being touched unless it is by someone he trusts. He tends to fear and/or dislike things he doesn't understand. He is fiercely devoted to his sire and to those who have earned his trust and he will not hesitate to challenge anyone who threatens them.</td><tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>HISTORY</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Julian was born December 12, 1831 in the village of Saint-Rémy. The eldest son of devoutly religious parents, he spent a happy, uneventful childhood in the French countryside. Home, school and church were the compass points in Julian's life. He helped his father on the family's small farm, doted on his little brother and was an altar boy in his church. At one point, he considered entering the priesthood, but decided to wait until he had seen something of the world. By the time he was nineteen and finished with school, he was restless and eager to do just that. His parents tried to dissuade him, but young Julian had a head full of dreams, and top among them was to see Paris. He'd dreamed of it since he was a little boy, had pored over images of it, read everything he could about it. He'd never seen a city before, and Paris was the city. The City of Light. He'd whispered the words to himself a million times, had pictured himself walking her streets, lingering in her museums, gazing up in awe at her cathedrals. He was determined to go there and see it for himself. Once he was there, perhaps he could find work, perhaps even learn a trade. And if things didn't work out, there was always home. Mama and Papa and the church would be waiting for him. His parents relented at last and bid him a tearful farewell as he set off on what he was sure would be a grand adventure. And at first, it was. The world outside Saint-Rémy was vast and limitless, and he strolled along, marveling at each new thing, each new sight or sound. It didn't take long, though, for misfortune to befall him. As he passed through a village on the road to Paris, he was set upon by robbers. They took the little money he had, the knife he'd brought for hunting, even the last of the food his mother had packed. Now penniless and hungry, Julian was stubbornly optimistic, sure he'd find a day's work, replenish his supplies, and continue on his adventure. Continue he did, or at least he tried. Hungry enough to chase after a hare though he had no way to skin or gut it, he got hopelessly lost in the forest. He wandered, searching desperately for the way back to the road, but only succeeded in getting himself even more lost. At last, hungry and exhausted, he curled up at the base of a tree and fell into an uneasy sleep. That night, he was startled awake by the sound of a horse, and opened his eyes to see a tall, imposing figure dressed all in black, staring down at him from atop a massive black stallion. Terrified, Julian fled, but was chased down and captured by the highwayman. The man gave his name as Lucien, though he offered no further information. His manner was courteous, even concerned, and he soothed the boy, whispering reassurances into his ear as they galloped deeper into the forest. Though frightened, Julian couldn't help responding eagerly to the man's offer of food and a night's lodging. Though his instincts told him to be wary, he was too cold and hungry to put up a fight, and so let himself be taken to the inn in the woods. His mysterious host took him inside and immediately ordered a staggering variety of food and drink, the finest the proprietor could offer. Julian eyed Lucien's heavy purse with astonishment, watching as the shiny gold coins were counted out into the innkeeper's eager hand. He wondered where the money came from and what Lucien had done to get it, but then the food was in front of him, steaming and maddeningly delicious, and he had no thought beyond cramming as much of it into his mouth as he could, as quickly as possible. Lucien ate nothing, merely sipped from a glass of brandy and watched, his piercing blue eyes never wavering from Julian. After the enormous meal, the boy felt as if he'd been drugged. Looking around and blinking sleepily, he wondered why the colors in the room seemed so much brighter, the sounds so much louder. A moment later he was pulled to his feet and led up the stairs, offering no resistance though his sense of foreboding was growing. Once in the small attic room, Lucien stripped Julian's clothes off and took him to bed. Julian tried to resist. He had never been with a man, knew it wasn't what good boys did, even if they were troubled by 'unnatural' urges. But Lucien would not be refused. Hadn't he rescued Julian from certain death in the dark woods? Had he not brought him to this nice warm place and fed him the finest food, bought him the best drink? Surely some gratitude was in order. Guilty and afraid, Julian submitted. When Lucien's weight shifted and the sharp pain lanced through Julian's neck, he stiffened and cried out. Perhaps he thought that this was part of it, perhaps even some punishment for defying Lucien. He did not have time to wonder further, however, as blackness quickly overtook him. Later he would have vague memories of being turned over, of something being pressed against his mouth. And then he was choking on something, something coppery and thick. He struggled briefly, then fell unconscious. He did not awaken until the following evening. He woke up alone. Lucien was gone, no trace of him left behind. Julian sat up in bed, dazed, one hand pressed against the side of his neck. He felt strange, oddly cold. Was he ill? Dressing quickly, he stumbled downstairs. The innkeeper and the other lodgers reacted strangely to him. Whereas the night before they had been welcoming, even gregarious, now they shrank from him. Nervously, one of the innkeepers sons indicated that he'd been instructed by 'the young gentleman's' host to take him back to the main road. Still frightened and unsure what was wrong, Julian hastened toward the one place he felt safe. He was going home. If he was ill, Mama would nurse him and make him strong again. His father came outside, hastily tucking his nightshirt into his trousers. He tugged a suspender up over his shoulder and blinked at Julian. At Julian's cry of "Papa!", his father's eyes opened wide. The boy's eyes glowed in the firelight, eerie and unnatural, and at that moment, Jean Marais knew that this was no longer his son. Screaming, he grabbed a torch and chased after him, trying to drive him away from the rest of his family. Julian's Mama came to the door, pale and frightened, her younger son clutching at her nightdress. Despite his pleas and entreaties, Julian was forced away, his last vision of his family their terrified, contorted faces, their mouths open in screams of horror. Turning then to the last place of comfort, Julian went to the church. Banging on the door, he pleaded with the priest to help him, to heal him so that they would love him again, but the priest cowered inside. When he finally did emerge, it was with the big silver crucifix from the altar. Screaming and waving it at Julian, he forced the boy back, driving him out of the village. The priest condemned Julian as a vile creature, a damned soul, a minion of Satan. There was nothing left of the kindly priest who had known Julian since he was a little boy. Turning and fleeing at last, Julian ran, sobbing, into the deep woods. He knew now, what he was. Instinct became his teacher, and he learned to hunt as best he could. He hid in the daytime and fed at night until the numbers of the missing from the surrounding villages grew so large that a mob of angry men set out after him, determined to stake him and see the killings end. Julian fled again, but never had more than a few nights' rest until the hunters found him, and he was forced to move on. At last, he found himself near Calais, and thought to make passage to America. There was nothing left for him now, save a painful death. He stowed away on a ship bound for Boston, tucking himself away deep in the hold. He might have remained undiscovered had his hunger not gotten the best of him. Too many crewmen disappeared and it wasn't long before Julian awoke in his hiding place to find a sword held at his throat and a circle of angry faces staring down at him. The next few weeks were an agony of misery and fear. The iron cage he was imprisoned in was directly below the hatch, a fact of which the first mate, an exceedingly fat and ugly man, never failed to remind him. He needed only reach up with his walking stick and push the hatch open, sending Julian scurrying to the other end of the cage. He would cower there in the diminishing shadows, whimpering in terror as the wedge of sunlight grew wider. He was kept alive, barely, on a diet of rats' blood, and beaten savagely for any acts of aggression against the crew. More than once he heard the first mate grumble that the boy would've been fed to the sharks already, had the man not hoped to make a fortune selling him once they reached Boston. However, a new passenger had boarded at Liverpool, though Julian did not yet know it. They were midway across the Atlantic before the tidy, well-dressed man entered the hold, observing Julian closely. The boy was afraid, but the professor assured him he would not be harmed. He was an expert in vampirology, he informed Julian, and he wished to make a study of the boy. Though still mistrustful of the man, Julian told his story haltingly, somewhat befuddled by the way the man's zeal seemed to grow with every word. He watched in amazement as a great deal of money changed hands, and he was told that he would spend the rest of the voyage in the professor's cabin. The professor was a rather austere host, though not unkind, apologizing for the continued necessity of the rats' blood, and the precautions that must be taken to keep Julian's hunger from overtaking him. When they arrived in Boston, Julian found himself being taken to a fine old stone house. Sent to the cellar to wait while the professor oversaw the unloading of his equipment, Julian was startled to discover that he was not alone. There was another there, one of his own kind, who was every bit as startled to see him. This, as it turns out, was Doctor Leofwine White, Leo for short. Much older and vastly more learned than Julian, Leo had been with the professor for many years, and had pestered him for many of those years to bring him a companion. This Julian was to be, and the two quickly forged a bond. So close did they become that, abandoned by the one who made him, Julian began to think of Leo as his own sire. Leo returned the same affection to Julian, and took it upon himself to care for and instruct his adopted childe. After an unfortunate indiscretion on Julian's part, resulting in the disappearance of a neighbor's daughter, the professor, Leo and Julian were forced to flee Boston. Arriving in New York, they purchased a handsome brownstone and made it their home. Relations between Leo and the professor, contentious at the best of times, deteriorated to the point that Leo left, needing some time away. Though lonely and missing Leo, Julian tried to please the professor, submitting to the sometimes painful examinations, but the man's behavior grew more and more erratic. He began drinking heavily and railing at Julian, demanding that Julian turn him. Julian refused, but the professor was determined to wear him down. Once again accused of being ungrateful, Julian was forced into a corner. The professor insisted that the only way he could truly understand the vampire was to become one, and at last, worn down by the man's constant haranguing, Julian obeyed. Sadly, he took the professor out to hunt, witnessing his first kill. The professor seemed fascinated by the experience, even thrilled. The next morning, however, he rose and dressed and, without a word, simply walked out into the sun. Leo returned and the two continue to live together in the professor's house. Leo still needs time alone every now and then, and is apt to be gone for weeks or months, but he always returns, and Julian is always there waiting for him.</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>WEAKNESSES</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Julian has poor impulse control and a rather unreliable working knowledge of the world. Despite his mistrust of strangers, he can be swayed with frightening ease by a forceful personality, particularly when coupled with a show of superior strength or knowledge. Having been abandoned by his sire at the moment he was embraced, he never had the opportunity to learn many things a young vampire needs to know. Leo has made great strides in filling in the gaps, but there are still some things Julian hasn't learned. One of those things is controlling his hunger. Though he has been admonished time and again by Leo about being discreet and choosing his victims carefully, when the hunger comes over him, Julian is apt to go after the nearest meal and consider the consequences later. He is not particularly strong physically, and is not a very skilled fighter, though like many of smaller stature, his temper can be fearsome. He can be stubborn and petulant, and his moods are very changeable. He has a deep mistrust of the clergy and a terror of being abandoned.</td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>STRENGTHS</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">Julian really is good at heart. He does bad things at times, and is capable of violence, but he's not inherently bad. He's very loyal and will defend those he loves fiercely. He has a hunger for learning and is a very hard worker, grateful for any chance to improve himself. He can be very sweet, and is generous and loving to his friends. </td> <tr> <td height="20" bgcolor="#7EEEE7"><center>OUT OF CHARACTER</center></td> <tr> <td align="left" height="20" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">[PB:] Patrick Wolf The icons used for this character are not all mine. If they are your icons alert me and I will give credit where credit is due. The profile banner is my own. [Disclaimer:] I am not Patrick Wolf, and her face is only borrowed. This is not real, and I am in no way advocating any of the activities this fictional character takes part in. Jean-Julian Alexandre Marais is a creation of my own mind, please to not copy/take/borrow anything that is her or connected to her. This journal may contain violent, adult situations so please no minors.</td></tr></table>

Current Mood: creative

List of things to do:

Reps:

~~Galen~~
~~Pip~~
~~Percy~~
~~Alex~~
~~Limos~~
~~Akana~~

Post:

~~Asti~~

Paintshop:

~~Arsene~~
J
~~Cassie~~
~~Cronus~~

Coding:

CT Character Page (might possibly just use Icons)

Hmmm...What am I missing.

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