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Dusty
Who is Dusty? Well I can tell you I am someone who enjoys creativity in many forms, the logic of code, the turn of a good phrase, historical genres (among many) and well-rounded written plots.

Hailing from the Southern Hemisphere, you may find me online at ‘weird’ times; however, it is just my time zone coming into play and I am always around every day at some point. So if you can’t find me in the Cbox, I am always available via PM.

Together, the founders have a combined experience level of over 50 years, so you are in good hands. So draw up a chair by the log fire and stay a while or longer and immerse yourself into the world that has been created here at Heart of the West!

Flint
Howdy all! You can call me Flint or Her Royal Highness or, of course, the ever popular Magnum PI, but if you can’t remember all that, I still answer to Tens :). I started writing when I was young but it wasn’t until my college years that I discovered RP. Yeah, never looked back, haha. I adore characters and plot lines and have way too many of them, if I’m being honest, but the heart wants what the heart thinks it wants! I play mainly males, finding them to be more comfortable in my mind, but I have my odd princess and I’m always ready to play! I do some graphic work for the site, advertising, and canon writing, and I can always help any of you with app and sizing issues, so just holler!
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Shooter has been writing with her fellow admins for up to five years! In 2014 she earned her degree in graphic design and now uses her skills to edit images for the site as well as design the maps for the area. Think of her as Heart of the West's personal cartographer and unqualified city planner. Fun fact; The Devil's Cradle Saloon used to be called The Blue Larkspur, this is the name of a plant as well as a race horse, a sport Shooter follows closely. Blue Larkspur raced for a stable called Idle Hour, which is the name of the hotel in Woodhurst. Every place on the maps has its own story!
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Indy arrived at HOTW to assist in written aspects of the site as well as moral support and has been role-playing for a decade now. In the past she has written in such genres as fandom, historic, and fantasy. She has a bachelor's degree in history and is currently a high school world geography teacher.

Outside of writing, she enjoys video games and long walks on the beach. ...Not really. She hates the ocean.

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Blue came over to the HoTW to assist with coding and general admin duties. During weekdays there is always an excellent chance that she is lurking about the site as work gives her the flexibility to do so. So if you are about, swing on into the cbox and say hello!

Additionally, Blue is one of those weird math and science people who also enjoys writing, and she has been writing for over ten years. She loves good plotting, character development, and is always a sucker for a happy ending.


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Joseph Cole

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Jan 29 2017, 12:33 AM
[dohtml]<div align="center"> <span style='font-family:Smokum'><span style='font-size:40px;line-height:100%'>Store Name</span></span><br /><br />

<img src='http://i68.tinypic.com/2hykyrt.jpg' border='0' alt='user posted image' /></div><br /><br /><br /><br />Welcome to Wild West Arms! Owned by Joseph Cole, the business was founded just two years ago back in 1866, and established in latter 1867. We sell guns from previous years to current models with custom made weapons being made upon request. All guns come with a money back guarantee, especially guns that are manufactured by Joe himself. Guns made and modified on request, additional fees may be added to your bill. All customers are requested to stay in the front area of the shop. Enter the back area at your own risk.<br /><br /><div align="center">
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<center><b><span style='font-size:22pt;line-height:100%'><u>Wild West Arms</u></span> </b></center><br />
<b>Owner</b>: Joseph Cole <br />
<b>Worker name:</b> Charlie “Chuck” Williams (Apprentice, Fifteen year old NPC, retail clerk)<br />
<b>Days Open:</b> Monday thru Friday <br />
<b>Hours:</b> Eight AM to Six PM <br />
*Currently looking for workers!!! Interested parties apply within. <P>
*Joe will consider taking on another apprentice, just ask.
*Want something we don't have? We take orders all the time! Just ask!
</left></div></center><p align="right" style="font-size:8px"><b>lyllea</b>@<a href="http://www.rpg-directory.com">rpg-d</a></span></p></div><br />

<div align="center"><a href='large image link' rel='nofollow' target='_blank'><img src='http://placehold.it/250x500' border='0' alt='user posted image' /></a><br />(Click for a larger view)</div><br /><br /><div align="center">Floorplans can be made here http://www.floorplanner.com/ <br><br> Blurb blurb blurb blurb blurb message!<br><br>

<p><img src='http://placehold.it/250x250' border='0' alt='user posted image' /> <img src='http://placehold.it/250x250' border='0' alt='user posted image' height= "250"; width= "250" /><br /><br /><img src='http://placehold.it/500x270' border='0' alt='user posted image' /><br /><br />

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<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model Dragoon Revolver 'Forty-Eight Twelve Dollars</b></span><p>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model Pocket Revolver 'Forty-Nine Ten Dollars</b></span><p>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model Navy Revolver 'Fifty-one Eleven Dollars</b></span><p>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model New Army Revolver 'Sixty Fourteen Dollars</b></span><p>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model Navy Revolver 'Sixty-one Twelve Dollars</b></span><p />
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Model Pocket Navy Revolver 'Sixty-two Fifteen Dollars</b></span><p/>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Walker Revolver 'Forty-seven Twelve Dollars</b></span><p />
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Colt Shotgun 'Fifty Lever Action Thirty-five Dollars</b></span><p/>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Derringer Pocket Pistol 'Twenty five Eight Dollars</b></span><p/>
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Breechloader Carbine 'Sixty-three Thirty Dollars</b></span><p />
<span style='color:#231408'><b>Henry Repeating Rifle 'Sixty Thirty-five Dollars</b></span><p />
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</table> <div style="width: 400px; font-size: 10px; font-family: verdana; color: 550022; div-align: right; margin-top: -10px; line-height: 30px"><div align="right"><a href="http://candylandcouture.b1.jcink.com/index.php?showuser=19"><font color="feddb2">thank you aly ❤</font></a></div></div></center><br /><br /><br /><br /></div> </div> [/dohtml]

Note: items listed coincide with the century 1800, not 1900.
Aug 18 2016, 12:40 AM
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Joseph Cole

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<div class="head">basics</div>
<thing>full name:</thing>
Joseph Henry Cole<br>
<thing>nicknames/aliases:</thing>
Joey. Joe.<br>
<thing>age:</thing>
Twenty.<br>
<thing>date of birth:</thing>
January 14th, 1848<br>
<thing>place of birth:</thing>
Hartford, Connecticut<br>
<thing>current residence:</thing>
Bar-C ranch<br>
<thing>hometown:</thing>
Coalchapel, Wyoming<br>
<thing>gender:</thing>
Male. <br>
<thing>occupation:</thing>
Gunsmith.<br>
<thing>member group:</thing>
Proprietor.<br>


<div class="head">appearance</div>

<thing>playby:</thing>
Liam Hemsworth. <br>
<thing>height:</thing>
6’3”<br>
<thing>build:</thing>
Muscled/toned.<br>
<thing>hair color:</thing>
Dusty Blonde.<br>
<thing>eye color:</thing>
Blue. <br>



<div class="head">relationships</div>

<thing>relationship status:</thing>
Single.<br>
<thing>current partner:</thing>
None. <br>
<thing>children:</thing>
None. <br>
<thing>In game siblings:</thing>
<li> Charlotte Cole, Jareth Cole </li><br><br><br>

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<div class="head">Appearance</div>

Joseph has dusty blonde/brown hair, light colored eyes and a generally soft expression on his face. He has a relatively athletic body from his years of working a cattle ranch, as well as sporting a fair, but tanned skin tone. He has a few scars on his body from his teenage years, the worst being on his side from where he was knifed while trying to stop a thief. It is about four inches long and located on his right side. He normally always has stubble on his face, though he has never actually had a beard. When he is not covered in grease from tinkering with machinery, Joseph will occasionally run a straight razor over his face. Working with guns, he always smells of gun oil, but he can clean up nicely, preferring to wear slacks and a suit jacket when the need arises. <p>

Joseph is by no means a hero, or a villain to be exact, but he does on occasion wear a knife or perhaps a pistol if he is helping his father on the ranch. Rarely does he ever wear a gun in public, especially on the street because he does not want trouble to start, though he does have a derringer up his sleeve (literally) that is spring loaded. He is hardly seen without his “ideal” tool, which is essentially a pair of pliers with a mold for making bullets, and a few other tools on it for gunsmithing. He also carries a silver pocket watch. <p>

<div class="head">Personality</div>

He is a hard man to anger, and has a rather drawn out temper, meaning that hardly anything ever gets to him. You can poke and prod him, and he won’t budge. He’s just stubborn that way; and that is probably his biggest downfall. He doesn’t really have pride or even an ego, but what he does have in droves is stubbornness. It is a trait he gets from his father, and even he’ll admit to being too stubborn from time to time. While he may not agree with killing, Joseph finds that sometimes it is necessary. It is a firm belief of his that all men get what they deserve, and that in the end the law will prevail. He does believe that all men are generally good, but it’s the actions they take that make them good or evil. <P>
The man has a heart of gold and, usually, it is in the right place. He is always looking out for his siblings and his father, even though he knows all three of them can handle themselves just fine. He is a quiet sort of individual who rarely speaks his mind, unless it is a subject he is absolutely adamant about. He is like his father in the aspect that he uses his ears to listen rather than using his mouth to speak. He often takes pleasure in sitting in the saloon where he will just listen to others. It is a good way to keep up on the news floating through town he has found. He is a smart individual as well, although he never finished college. He is book smart, as well as having common sense, which a lot of people seem to lack. He knows it is wise not to bring trouble to an area where trouble thrives, and follows this belief by not carrying a gun on him if he can get away with it. If someone has a problem with him, Joseph will defend himself with his fists and abstain from using a gun. He learned to fight from his brother, and through what scraps he got into at school. <P>
Joseph is an honorable man, trying to live an honorable and simple life. He is a hard worker, and always has been, even growing up. He believes that everyone should tell the truth because there is an old saying ‘from your mouth to God’s ears’. But everyone lies eventually, even those that try to tell the truth all the time. He loves to laugh, and does so quite often. Laughter can cure the symptoms of any illness, in his opinion, and he often cracks jokes to make people laugh. He has no room for anger in his life, and does his best to always be a glass half full kind of guy. In his eyes things could be better, but they could be a lot worse as well, so he always tries to have a positive outlook on life. This being said, Joseph believes that good things come to those who wait and that people get what they deserve in the end. <P>

<div class="head">History</div>

I suppose this is the part where I tell you about my life. I’ll begin by telling you about my parents, who were so deeply in love with one another that it still hurts my father to this day that she had to die. My mother was Margery Anne Clarke, Daughter of Joseph and Elizabeth and my father is Benton Porter Cole, who was born to Jonathan Benton Cole and Charlotte Anne Porter. The met and married one another, having my brother and my sister before having me in the beginning of 1848. It was a cold winter that year, and it was even a miracle that I survived. I was a fairly big baby, full of life and a cry that could carry throughout an entire house and out into the cold air. It was a sign that I was a healthy little boy, or so my mother had always said. I was the youngest and last child to be born to my mother and father. <P>
I had a rather normal childhood, though what could be considered ‘normal’ for the son of a rancher. I spent a lot of my early years fending off my brother and my sister, who teased me some, yet I knew that both of them cared a lot about their baby brother. From an early age it was determined that I would fall into some line of work that had to do with machinery, seeing as how I was always drawing machinery and coming up with new ideas for different types of equipment. My mother always liked looking at my drawings, but I could get no such admiration from my father. He thought I had my head in clouds, and so I was forced to concentrate on my studies. I was a bright child, and had a knack for learning whether it was sticking my nose in a book or watching something done by someone else. I learned to read, write, and do arithmetic, and was always a studious boy, even though in later years I chose not to finish college. <P>

I was merely five years old when my great uncle was murdered. How do you tell a little child that someone has died? Do you tell them blatantly? Or even at all? What I got from this difficult time was that my father was full of sadness, and for some reason his youngest child could not bring him happiness. For a few years I thought it was something I had done. My mother, bless her heart, tried explaining to me that my great uncle was merely sleeping. I had no real experience with death at the age of five. My mother had made sure that I did not see animals die until I was older, and even then she was fairly cautious to explain to me what exactly death meant. She explained to me that it was permanent, but that we would see those that had passed on again someday. I was older when she had that conversation with me, and I finally began to see why my father was so upset. <P>

As I grew, I fell into working with the animals we had to further my knowledge about life. My father was eager to teach me, taking me out into the woods and teaching me how to track animals. Being out in the woods, seeing animals in their natural habitat made me appreciate life. My sister used to poke fun at me, saying that I wouldn’t even harm a snake if it bit me. Luckily I never got bit by a snake, but I did happen to get into a few scraps in the school yard. It took a few beatings for me to learn how to fight, but I learned fairly quickly how to dodge and even how to hit my mark every time without fail. I used my knowledge of fighting whenever a boy got too big for his breeches and decided to fight me. One such scrap happened outside the school house, much like all the others, and within a few hits I knocked down my opponent, bloodying his nose pretty good as the end result. All in all, all of us kids were raised as members of Hartford, Connecticut. <P>

When I was thirteen, the Civil War broke out. I was too young to go into battle, but my brother went. Being that young of a boy I did not realize there was a possibility my brother would not come home. I read through the paper, seeing names of people that had been killed or were missing, and not truly understanding why so many names were listed. I remember having dreams at night where I would find my brother’s name in the paper, and being instantly mortified. When I woke, I would even ask my parents if my brother’s name was in the paper. It was a frightening time for me because I had no idea what would happen. At the beginning of the war everyone was excited to go off to fight, but further into the war that all changed. It was often that I would see women crying in the streets or holding onto their husbands or remaining sons. It would be another few years before I learned what death meant, other than my mother trying to explain it to me eight years earlier. <P>

Another year passed, and I soon was old enough to go on hunts with my father. By this time I could ride well, and I knew my way around a firearm. My father took me out to hunt a few times. Some days were better than others, admittedly, but my father made sure none of his family went hungry. If I didn’t down an animal, chances were that my father would step in and do my job for me. Hunting with my father taught me a lot about responsibility and caring for one’s family, but it also taught me about the balance between life and death. I learned fairly quickly that in order for us to survive, something had to die, whether it be a deer out in the woods or one of our cattle. At sixteen I became a man, and that was considered old enough to hunt by myself. I spent a lot of days out in the woods, hoping to bring something back. Usually I was gone until I shot something, then I would sling it over my horse and bring it home to the family. This was my way of escaping from the daily life of a rancher. I felt at home in the woods, and took a lot of time to think about things when I was out there by myself. I thought of my future, wondering where it might turn. Never did I imagine I would be losing my mother; of all the things that could have happened to me, that had to be the worst. <P>

At seventeen I left home to go to school where I sought to further my education. I was out there for maybe a few months until I got a letter telling me that my mother had passed away. I was devastated. Of course I came straight home, half hoping that the letter was chalked full of lies. But it wasn’t. Somehow, deep down, I knew it wasn’t. I had thought it had been a plea for me to come home, but in reality I knew my mother had been sick for some time, and at that moment I was kicking myself for having ever left. After the funeral, I went into a sort of seclusion, unwilling to socialize with anyone for a time. But after a few months, I decided to take a step and be social. It was during this time that I met a man by the name of Hans Gruber, a German gunsmith. We talked for a while, his German accent making it a little difficult for me to understand, but after a while of hearing it, I understood him better. I asked if he would be willing to teach me about gunsmithing, and he exuberantly agreed. I apprenticed under him for about two years, learning what I could about gunsmithing and how to reload the spent casings. With time I honed my craft, doing what I could to help Hans around his gunsmithing shop and learning more along the way. He taught me about steam power and water power, seeing as how most of the equipment was run either by steam or water power. <P>

After my apprenticeship with Mr. Gruber was over, I followed my family to Coalchapel, Wyoming. There I own and operate a gunstore adjoining a blacksmith area where my designs become reality. It is hard work; I cater to anyone who passes through town and the residents of the surrounding area. I always have a steady flow of business, in that case. The days I am not working in town, I assist my father with day to day activities on the ranch, helping with the chores, breaking horses, and herding cattle. I have a couple horses of my own, trained by my own hand. I also design and make guns also in a workshop there on the ranch property. Aside from work and helping on the ranch, I attend church occasionally, and am a firm believer in God. <P>

<div class="head">Writing Sample</div>

Soothing. Yes standing in the barn getting ready for a ride was soothing. The smells of the barn were all too familiar to the gunsmith. The musky scent of his saddle hit his nose, the leather a few years old and aged to fit the saddle tree perfectly. He knew the man that had made his saddle. He had done a little work for the man in exchange for the saddle. The saddle had seen a lot of mileage, as had the horse whose back he had set it on. Joe liked going for rides, sometimes with others, but mostly by himself. There were a few nights of the week he found himself riding under the stars, keeping a close watch on the herds if there had been signs of predators nearby. On those nights he usually downed a few coyotes, maybe a wolf if it was by itself. If there was threat of a cougar nearby, Joe always took Booker with him. They generally wouldn’t kill cougar, though. With a good pack of dogs they could chase it back into the hills, sometimes riding a few miles out to be sure the horses and cattle were safe. Joe remembered life out East, but he preferred the rolling hills of Colorado, the tall mountains and open prairie. Life here was everything he’d dreamt about back East. He read dime novels as a child, tales that told of life out in the West and how full of adventure it was. And it was. Every day was new and exciting, always presenting him with a unique challenge that he rose to overcome. <P>

Tawny would try and find him a wife, even if it meant pulling her hair out to get him to commit. He admired her dedication. She was determined to see him married off to a woman. Part of him thought she was just determined to get nieces and nephews out of him. She certainly wasn’t going to get any from Jareth. The man was more of a man whore, not a man bound to settle down with any one woman. He loved his brother, sure, but someone needed to tell it to the ex-soldier’s face. Perhaps that would be Joe. Perhaps not. Roughshot stood, calmly, quietly, tail swinging back and forth as he enjoyed a piece of sugar snuck to him by his owner. The stallion, high spirited though he was, could be the gentlest beast that ever was. He could also be fierce. The stallion wasn’t afraid to stand up to nearly any threat. He would have been a great herd stallion, had he been born in the wild. Joe loved horseback riding. In fact, it was the thing he enjoyed most alongside building and repairing guns. Oh, and hunting. Those had to be his top three. He’d learned about horses most from his dime novels, particularly the Mustang out in the West. But it was Roughshot that had stolen his heart, once upon a time, so small and tiny when he was born. It was quite possible that the colt wouldn’t have survived that bitter winter if it hadn’t been for Joe’s caring hand. He might have been a hard colt to break, but he was still one of the best horses he’d ever owned. <P>

Joe replaced the railing, using his own money to appease his father. And he’d shadowed his father for a full week to make sure he wasn’t going to go for his gun and try to kill the stallion. Other colts they’d owned got too full of themselves and chewed through the fence before, and Colly hadn’t done anything drastic. Things like that happened. It was part of living on a ranch with animals that had teeth. Horses sometimes got bored, chewing the wood to pass the time. For Roughshot it had been a wild group of horses passed too close to the ranch, and it was quite possible that one of them or all of them were in heat. Still, Joe doubted that the stallion would have gotten out. The horse loved his life on the ranch, even if it couldn’t say so. Joe wouldn’t dignify Tawny’s words with a response. He was checking the stallion’s legs, going over them to make sure that the horse hadn’t done something to himself while in the stall. Simple precautions were they to ensure a smooth ride. <P>

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. And so will Roughshot.” The horse gave a single snort, bobbing his head up and down as though he agreed with Joe. The gunsmith chuckled, rubbing in between the horse’s ears affectionately. Joe laughed at her comment about finding a lady for their father. “Yeah, well, I’m sure the old horse needs to be matched with someone more than I. There’s something you can pursue.” He said, holding a twinkle in his eye that said he was joking. <P>

Maybe he did need to go to church more often. The problem with that was that his work took precedence over taking the time out of his Sunday to go to church. That was not to say that it took precedence over his devotion to God. Joe was one of the few people in the world that didn’t believe you had to go to a building made of wood to worship the Lord. Maybe that was a hedonistic view, worthy of him being burned at the stake over. Or at the very least, hung till his feet stopped kicking. He tried to get out to church at least once a month though, sometimes helping out during the week when there was a church event going on. Tawny didn’t have to say the words. He knew what she was thinking based on the fact that generally they all went to church as a family. He grabbed the reins, turning the stallion towards the exit and began to lead him out, but not before taking one long look at Tawny. <P>

“Just make sure she’s pretty. And single. Don’t match me up with somebody’s wife,” he said, groaning mockingly as he led the stallion out underneath the bright shining sun. There were some clouds beginning to find their way over the sun, though, and it promised to be a nice day. It was cool, so that was also a saving grace. He hoisted himself up in the stirrup, swinging a leg over to rest just ahead of his rifle. He might have hung up his pistols for the day, but Joe went nowhere without some kind of gun on him. In this case he had two, one of each side, a shotgun and a rifle. And plenty of ammunition for the day should he want to bring back dinner for the evening. <P>
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<div class="head">about</div>

So this is Joseph Cole, son to Benton Cole, and gunsmith to the town of Coalchapel. He’s a quiet sort of fellow that rarely acts on his temper. He’s always been very studious, the type of guy that would rather invent guns than actively make trouble. A believer in God, Joe thinks that people are generally good, that it is their actions that define who they are. People aren’t born bad, in other words. As a shop keeper he can’t afford to anticipate the actions of those that buy his guns. He gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. <P>


<div class="head">friendly</div>

Joe likes people, first and foremost. He wouldn’t be in this particular line of work if he hated them. Every day when someone walks into his store, they’ll see a smile on his face and hear a kind word given to them. As stated before, he gives people the benefit of the doubt. He likes having friends, whether they are customers, members of his church, friends of the family, or just your average Joe on the street. People will always have a place in his life.


<div class="head">romantic</div>

Never actively looking for a woman, Joe tends to shy away from women in all reality. Not because anything ever happened, but because he believes that women should be treated with the utmost respect. He’ll flirt up a storm, maybe pay a visit to a painted lady, but anything serious, and he’ll generally bolt the other direction. That is, until the right woman woos her way into his life.

<div class="head">antagonistic</div>

People who bought a gun from him and weren’t happy with the purchase will go here. He’s really a likable guy so I don’t anticipate there to be a lot of enemies, but customers who aren’t happy with their purchases will definitely fall here.

<div class="head">other</div>

Family. Family is of the utmost importance to him, whether it’s his father, sister, or damaged brother. Any other people who don’t fit the above categories will go here.


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<div class="head">OOC Name</div>
J-Chan <br>
<thing>age:</thing>
28<br>
<thing>pronouns:</thing>
She/her<br>
<thing>timezone:</thing>
Mountain Standard time<br>
<thing>contact:</thing>
PM/AIM (Just ask me for it)<br>
<thing>triggers:</thing>
Umm, none that I know of<br>
<thing>mature threading:</thing>
Anyway to advance the story line or make it interesting <br>
<thing>other characters:</thing>
None so far<br>
<thing>about:</thing>
Eww you don’t want to know about me. Ok, since you asked. I’m J-Chan. I’m older than the hills, been rping pretty much half that. I’m out of school, but am majoring in Psychology. I am weird, but I like school, and having all this free time on my hands is weird. Because it’s just weird, man! I was one of those weird kids that like school. But anyway, some things I like are horses, dogs, pretty much any animal out there. I like writing, especially poetry when I am not role playing. Video games are awesome; I have a PS3, PS4, 3DS, Computer (for sims and zoo tycoon), and that doesn’t include my fiance’s game systems. Oh, and I have a fiancé. Some of you know him as Minion.
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20. Gunsmith. Proprietor. Liam Hemsworth.
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<a href="http://shine.jcink.net/index.php?showuser=11594">thanks♥︎</a>
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