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Mikkel MadsenMikkel Madsen
Age: 17- 19
Nationality: 3/4 Danish 1/4 Finnish
Appearance: He has short chin length hair that is a darker blond color. It parts over his right eye and sweeps over his nose to the left side of his face where it parts just enough to show blue eyes. He is pretty pale since he spends a lot of time inside, school, work, home. He usual wears sweaters because he enjoys them, and jeans, sneakers. He is a thin build since he has a good metabolism and doesn't do any sports. He is about 5' 10".
Personality: He is usually a very happy person, he likes to smile a lot and make as many friends as he can. It's a bit difficult for him though. He is usually always happy but on the occasion he goes into a state of depression for a few days and usually demands, as best he can, to be by himself.
History: Mikkel was born to a happy family, his mother was stay at home mom who very much loved her family, and a Father who worked to bring home the food and put it on the table. When he
Not Always ObviousI pretend to be useless so he will stay with me.
Feliciano whimpered softly as he was near strangled by Arthur, making is arm's flail and he body try to wiggle from his grip. Though years of following the winning sides he knew how to escape but "Germany!" He cried out for help and waved as the blond heard the shouting.
Ludwig turned his head as he heard the grunts and whimpered of Feliciano being trapped my Arthur, the habit of saving Italy kicking in, "Get off him!" He grunted as he walked over and pulled England's arms roughly off from around his neck. He quickly had Feliciano clinging to his waist. Ludwig hugged him and watched at Arthur muttered and wondered off.
I know I'm not a hero, but you make me feel like one.
Alfred looked over his shoulder as his brother, smiling. His younger brothers arms wrapped around his waist and his face nuzzled into his shoulder. It made him happy to know that he was
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More