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Anywhere, Just Not Here by Agent36496 Anywhere, Just Not Here :iconagent36496:Agent36496 1 0
Mature content
Defiance Chapter Twelve: Distortion :iconagent36496:Agent36496 1 0
Mature content
Play For Me Ch. Nine: Fire :iconagent36496:Agent36496 2 0
So many things to feel like yesterday
Having fun on a birthday
Relaxing over summer
Now work is like a stunner
The days full of stress
Until blowing on a large cartridge
Remember when movies were cool?
Before something ruined them?
Popcorn was not in oversized bags
Candy was not overindulged
And there were not too many wide loads
Pizza Hut had a sundae bar
Fox aired comic-book cartoons on weekends
MUCH MUSIC showed only music videos
While pop stars were still young
Comedies could be overboard
Remember video games being big?
Before people kept changing them?
They were fun as they could be
You played them many times over
And wanted the hero as your lover
Slime poured on you on Uh-Oh
Someone tried to dance to disco
You dressed up as a superhero
While quoting your favourite shows
Animations were admirable
Remember when monsters could amuse
As you burned through your shoes?
Chases riled you up
You pranced like a pup
While crime shows were hard to watch at night
Why are ladies always being f
:iconagent36496:Agent36496 3 3
Mature content
Defiance Chapter Eleven: Gamble :iconagent36496:Agent36496 2 0
Suffering To Hate by Agent36496 Suffering To Hate :iconagent36496:Agent36496 4 0 Shadows Run Like All by Agent36496 Shadows Run Like All :iconagent36496:Agent36496 1 2
Controlling With Reason
When it comes to all kinds of art, anything goes. When one draws a picture, they can draw whatever they want. However, some of them might not be shown. That is just one way to say that others won’t be allowed to see something coming off as inappropriate or simply negative. That is the meaning of censorship.
People in control of studios and the media are the ones to decide whether something is open to all audiences or not. Who’s to say parents don’t censor things in their ways? One can play safe if they want, but there’s such a thing as playing too safe. Acting and drama teachers encourage their students to step out of their comfort zones. Trying something new is also encouraged, so one can evolve in their skills. If we don’t see what was meant to be shown, it wouldn’t influence the audiences.
Censorship in anime comes to mind. Quite a few anime shows have a bad way of censoring. A good example would be “Yu-Gi-Oh!”, the original and its sp
:iconagent36496:Agent36496 2 3
Mature content
Defiance Chapter Ten: Detention :iconagent36496:Agent36496 2 2
Mature content
Play For Me Ch. Eight: Difficulty :iconagent36496:Agent36496 1 0
Top o' The Duel by Agent36496 Top o' The Duel :iconagent36496:Agent36496 8 6
Mature content
Play For Me Ch. Seven: Chance :iconagent36496:Agent36496 2 0
Mature content
Defiance Chapter Nine: Probe :iconagent36496:Agent36496 0 0
Mature content
Defiance Chapter Eight: Payment :iconagent36496:Agent36496 0 0
Mature content
Play For Me Ch. Six: Longing :iconagent36496:Agent36496 1 3
Play For Me Ch. Five: Construction
Five: Construction
“So, who might your admirer be?” Sipho asked, sitting upon the barstool that was his usual spot as he worked at a bowl of oats and figs, along with a cup of English Breakfast tea. He somehow knew the reason for the elegant barwoman’s demeanour and subtle weakness. Esperanza hadn’t always done anything other than serve wine and cocktails. She was, for a time, a courtesan. She was on hiatus from her usual duty, whilst a short-term part-time server took her place. She couldn’t deny at that time that she felt like something was missing. It was the previous time the place wished luck to the latest courtesan to depart.
Esperanza answered, “Not so much of an admirer as someone I wanted to keep in touch with.” After finishing that, she turned off the electric kettle behind her, to pour the hot water in another porcelain mug, anticipating another upcoming presence, and he was just approaching the bar with the surprisingly high counter
:iconagent36496:Agent36496 0 0

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Don't Say That by Agent36496



To be clear, I'm a sucker for Spyro fanart for how much I love the character. The mimic of the picture on the game's case is remarkable...

First watercolour, eh? First for everything always calls for thoughts. From the title and the picture, I was sort of reminded of a cert...

I'm not big on doing something like this. I have critiqued, but only once. To show two different colours as a sign if rivalry is fairly...

Never done a critique on a deviation before, but here goes: I have seen the animation to know full well the story behind the painting. ...




Anywhere, Just Not Here
Dust on this tired old street
Mark corners where we used to play
Dust trace our tired old feet
In circles as we pace our time away

I just wanna die anywhere else
If only I could die anywhere else
So come with me, let's die anywhere else
Anywhere, just not here

Take a wild guess where that song is from. I watched the video series of a gamer I like play it and the song is from that. Just after watching the last part, inspiration struck, and I already knew what I wanted the picture to be. To me, the song is about wanting to see the world and wanting to do what can't be done where you are. If you're familiar with the song, you'd also know the answer to "Why a cat?" It's just an addition to that cats are always curious. I like to think that cats wonder. So, the idea is that the cat leaps off a roof and to a path that seems to be open, following it.

I did four practice sketches, each of them only hours apart. I chose to make it final on the evening of 24 June, 2017. Drinking tea, eating a rice cake, and listening to Within Temptation: Hydra: I drew with a pencil that I then inked with a pen; coloured using watercolour pencils that I stroked with a wet brush, a pencil crayon, and a marker. I spent about 50 minutes, start-to-finish. I like what I did, but I couldn't get a good shot.
Post this as your own, you die. Adding this to your favourites doesn't mean shit to me. Tell me what you like about it and what you don't.

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Twelve: Distortion

Angelica couldn’t believe what she had seen. She was still in a semi-comatose state at the end of the day. Whilst others were in the halls going over the drills of their choices, Kenshin was playing old video files dating back to many weeks earlier, all those videos recorded by traffic cams and all of them showing the girl attacking or killing someone on the streets and leaving onlookers horrified.
Egon was the one to follow her back to the classroom that was used as her own bedroom. Beforehand, she’d been talked into not leaving the estate and going after the mayor for a direct confrontation. She was afraid to go near the tall young man, knowing his build.
He stated lowly, “Everyone reacts differently to even the first time they punch someone.”
The girl was afraid just to answer him. So, he approached the bed, where she sat, and stopped next to her. The enforcer of the group added, “You can run all you want from the truth, but it won’t change. You can lie to yourself all you want, but you’ll always know what lies you tell yourself.”
The girl whispered, “I always hated my father…”
Egon paused at that. He sighed, “I never knew my father… but I had a strong and understanding idol in my step-father.”
Curious, she asked, “What was that like?”
“He doubted that he’d ever have kids, but found love with my mom. Just like my mom being a voice of reason, my step-father was one to encourage what I dreamed of.”
“And what was your dream?”
“Sports star”, Egon answered plainly. He paused a beat before going on, “I was on sports teams, always switching, for years. Namely, Little League Baseball, Junior Basketball, and high-school Football.”
“What drove you away then?”
Egon sighed before answering, “I can’t tell you… It’s too personal to tell someone I barely know.”
“I’m okay with that…” She then spoke up, “You know, looking back, my father was nothing like a father to me ever at all.”
Egon commented, “The kind of person for a parent is a matter of chance, I suppose.” He then stood up, asking, “Is your head okay?”
Aware of what he was getting at, she answered, “It doesn’t ache, but I still don’t understand what caused…” She paused, unable to find the proper words.
“We’ll still check”, Egon responded. “Take the time you have to take in everything you learned so far. It’s what the girls would say.”

There were two slow knocks on the door, to which Kenshin answered in his study, to find none other than the tall young man with the blond buzz cut, to his astonishment. Egon had never once talked to Kenshin in the space where the young genius would spend his own time.
Egon asked, “May I come in?”
“Sure”, Kenshin answered hesitantly. He slowly shut the door after Egon took a seat. Taking his own seat, he inquired, “Do you need me to explain something that you don’t understand?”
“Nothing like that”, Egon answered. He was ashamed that he never understood the complexities of technology. “We’ve been friends for some time, right?”
“Of course”, Kenshin answered awkwardly.
“Friends look past each other’s… flaws, right?” The answer to that was only a nod. “I’ve been bothered by the latest activities that I personally monitor… and I need a confidant.”

The brunette sat in the office at her desk, going over the inventory that Thibault had given her. Hallam knocked and entered, to which Primrose said, “What’s going on?”
Hallam answered, “I just wanted to see how you were.”
Primrose answered as Hallam approached the desk, “I’m just busy, and thinking…”
When directly in front of the desk and sitting down, Hallam commented, “Haven’t seen Thibault since lunch.”
“He’s still bitter over that bullet wound and my short lecture.” She then looked up, to add, “I did warn him about recklessness.”
Hallam got what she was like. “You’re trying to be the voice of reason.”
“Exactly!” she responded. “But I also try not to go overboard and nag.”
Hallam muttered, “Maternal instinct, I suppose.”
Primrose spoke, “I know I’m not perfect. The only times one is perfect is by getting all answers on a test right. I think of this group like a family. I can’t replace them…”
Hallam commented sadly, “Didn’t know you felt tha’ way.”
Changing the subject, Primrose spoke, “Believe it or not, Filomena was the one to give me fighting skills.”
“Really. Vasco fights like a boxer and Egon like a wrestler. They each gave me basic skills, but Filomena shared with me her knowledge in martial arts. She told me she regularly took jujitsu lessons over her middle-school years. She and Egon were our first two recruits.”
“Has it really been two years since you and Vasco became best friends?”
She hesitated before answering, “Yes. Now that I think about it, it’s been two years. Only weeks before that was the day my family was broken up.” She changed the subject again, asking, “Filomena alone told me that you yourself saved Thibault.” Hallam hesitated at that, wondering if he should go into details.
So, he remarked, “He was jus’ bloody lucky.”
“This is twice now you’ve tended to bullet wounds, knowing exactly what to do. You’re not ashamed of having such a skill, are you?”
Hallam sighed and looked away, answering, “No… I just doubted that what I do would be of no use to you.”
Primrose stood up and walked over to where Hallam was sitting, prompting him to look up at her. She said coldly, “You must be out of your mind to think that an idea for a medic is useless.”
“I have the knowledge of surgery, but not the practice.”
Primrose responded, “You do now. Effective immediately, you’re granted position as medic.”
The young blond man stood up to ask, “Is this where I leave the room then?”
“No. We’ll both take a walk and bring in Vasco and Kenshin on consultation.”

That consultation had to go on for a day before a plan was conjured up. Thanks to Kenshin keeping his eyes fixed toward the laptop screen, connected to the traffic cams, was able to serve as visual aide for the plan. Seeing the girls in white jackets and pants over a white shirt like a school uniform, Kenshin looked to Primrose plainly, and she stated, “We can’t let her know. Not now.”
“So, what do we do?” Hallam asked, just for the sake of argument.
Vasco, looking at his friend, answered, “We go after them.”
“What to do with them is still something to work on”, Primrose added. “We still shouldn’t ignore the signal relay. We can expect them around those points of the city map.”
Kenshin suggested with excitement, “They’re radio controlled! The transmission is brought above ground and bounces off panels to carry throughout the city. Since the mayor has been in office since we were middle schoolers, this had to have been years in planning. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be using something so old-fashioned.”
Vasco stated, “That makes sense.”
Kenshin continued, “Furthermore, if the mayor happened to change the law, and the Angels of Death are still seventeen or younger, being unable to charge a minor with manslaughter permits the mayor all the more to get away with having the girls kill without thinking.”
Primrose examined the city map with marked areas before ordering, “Let’s call the others in.”

Addressing the biggest members of the Resurrection Battlefront, Primrose spoke, “That is the plan, and we won’t know what happens until it happens. None of us is to walk alone. We each gather fellow rebels in hiding to watch for us. Two of the Angels have been seen on the move. I’m telling you now: I had you all track one, and she’s under our roof and our rules now, but don’t be fooled; it’s impossible for someone to be in two places at once. Regardless, engage. Once you’re in their sights, with history as an indication, they’ll put up a fight.
“Hallam and Kenshin, you’re with me at the coffeehouse, Cat Com, where Lady’s Ghostly Beats are performing. Since police have been harassed, more cafés are willing to let the band in, but we must remain cautious.
“Egon, your heading is northwest, to Broadworks Drive. Filomena, you’ll be at the northernmost marker, Butterfly Lane.”
Vasco interjected, “And I have elected that I head southwest, to 14th Street. The relays should be in the form of panels, and out of reach. So, use any means necessary to break them, but try not to attract a crowd. We’ll get the wrong kind of attention, using guns.”
Primrose then said, “Initiate mission.”

As each of the young rebels in small groups strode along the sidewalks, Primrose and two of her trusted followers were already idle and had bought a beverage and a snack while the pop cover trio were setting up. Hallam was the one to bring the items over. Kenshin sat at a round table, reading a book, where a porcelain mug of Chai tea and a large slice of banana bread while Hallam and Primrose sat at another table on the opposite side of the chamber, each with a mug of coffee and a blueberry muffin. When taking his seat, he looked at her intently. The dye making her stripes had been washed off completely now.
Primrose asked, “What’s on your mind?”
Hallam paused before leaning forward and asking lowly, “Are you sure about bringing guns?”
Primrose answered coldly, “There’d be no point in being unarmed. Everyone knows who we are by how we dress, and how other teenagers on the streets dress.”
“Would you say, we and the teens are giving ourselves our own education?”
Primrose asked back, “Why else would we wear suits? Surely, you’ve seen kids at prep or private schools in movies wear blazers and ties in movies and TV shows?”
Hallam considered giving the most obvious quip for a response, but shrugged that off. So, Primrose added, “I like the difference, though, that we’re not children of some snobbish, selfish corporates having more money than they know what to do with.”
Hallam didn’t care that her tone was cold. He replied contently, “I honestly would have it no other way, either.” He raised his cup and Primrose reluctantly accepted the toast, so they would take a sip of their coffees at the same time.
Changing the subject, Hallam asked, “You once considered being a cook, you told me. Did you prefer a style there?”
Primrose was hesitant to answer that, and wondered why the newest recruit, who was made part of the executives, would ask such a thing. Then again, those still learning would always be curious. She answered casually, “I was… I was still learning at the time… I would just follow the recipes, and what I didn’t like, I didn’t consider retrying.”
“D’you think you would cook again?”

Meanwhile, Filomena was on the sidewalk. It was cloudy out. People were expecting a thunderstorm for that day. The red-haired young woman strode, looking nowhere but ahead, the two teens accompanying her being the eyes on the sides. They were already nervous when being brought out of the empty apartment that acted as a hideout. They were caught off-guard when she stopped at the sign saying “Butterfly Road” on a three-way intersection, and headed along the street, just looking up for anything standing out. This area had a retro style, having diverse stores with lofts above. They were like houses. She chose not to consult a cell phone as a scanner, and trusted her own eyes to find the object on a wall of one of the buildings.
After passing two traffic lights, one of the two boys acting as guard dogs said lowly, “We’re being followed by a pair of cops on foot.”
Filomena replied, “I’m not surprised.” At the third set of traffic lights, she spotted what she’d been told to look for. Below the column of the coloured lights, she saw a plastic panel with a green light. She told the boys behind her, “Get them.” They hesitated. “Fight them.” Without looking back, she pulled out a slingshot and a rock from her pocket. The old-fashioned toy belonged to her company, and she’d requested permission to use it. She aligned the stone on the short sling to her eye, and let it go. On the first try, the rock hit the panel, but the light was still there even though the plastic was broken—until the second stone was hit, and the light was out.
Already aware that her company had caught up with her again, she handed the slingshot back without looking behind. She then looked around, finding a blonde girl in a white suit and white shirt. She just stood there, hesitating, until the girl seemed to cringe and place both hands on her head.

Vasco was familiar with what kind of people were in the area that he chose with Primrose’s consent. He wanted to be the one to try overcoming the violence in the area. He knew the area of townhouses like the back of his hand, for it was where he’d lived before running away. It was where all the underground gambling clubs were held. The two spies to accompany him were girls, but they were tough. He walked with his hands in his pockets as he was already expecting someone to engage teens wearing suits. He scowled toward every person he was approaching, expecting a lowlife in rags or a slave to lash out at him. He was also overcome by resentment to all the strangers who had possibly bet on his past fights and to the buildings themselves as the district itself stunk of tobacco, marijuana, crack, and various alcohols, the apartment where he lived being no exception.
His walk was interrupted when someone next to him touched his shoulder and stated, “I know that fashion. You’re a cultist.” Vasco hoped to walk away, but his arm was grabbed. A split-second later, one of Vasco’s companions held the man’s groin tightly and he groaned.
She hissed, “Punch him, asshole. I dare you.” She gripped tighter, as if her fingers were pincers. So, the man let go of Vasco’s arm. In turn, the girl let go, but kept her eyes on that man, expecting a trick. Vasco didn’t even show his appreciation. All he did was look for a sign with the right street name.

The girls were now at their performance, and gained the patrons’ attention through a single chord as an introduction. They changed the melody quickly, getting the introduction of the first song to play. It started with a repeating electronic note, which then turned into a chord backed by the bass. Carita sang:
“Ain’t no headlights on the road tonight
Ev’rybody here is sleeping tight
Ain’t nobody to find us here
We’ll disappear
There’s a dancer in the arms of love
And he’s dancing on the sky above
And the truth is that we’ll never know
Where love will flow
Aim high, shoot low”
Berljot and Godelieve sung in unison, “Gotta aim high, shoot low, baby”
Then all three sung in unison:
“Ain’t no headlights on the road tonight
Ain’t nobody here to make it right
‘Cause I couldn’t seem to find a way
For love to stay
If you had another night to give
I would have another night to give
But you’re never gonna see me cry on the last goodbye”

Vasco had already engaged a pair of street punks wanting a piece of him, and played the ruse that he was unskilled in a fist fight, switching between high and block punches, all to make them tire their arms before he grabbed them both by the head and slammed them against each other, and then punched them one at a time, making sure that each impact with his brass knuckles would leave a mark.

“Is it cloudy where you are tonight?
Are the neon lights shining bright?
Are you looking for a place to stay,
To get away?” The others whispered the repeat.
“And the days are horses down the kill,
Running fast with time to kill
And the truth is that we’ll never know
Where love will flow
Aim high shoot low”
It was the same as before the bassist and drummer playing lightly, singing: “Gotta aim high, shoot low, baby”
Then the all sung as one again:
“Ain’t no headlights on the road tonight
Ain’t nobody here to make it right
‘Cause I couldn’t seem to find a way
For love to stay
If you had another night to give
I would have another night to give
But you’re never gonna see me cry on the last goodbye”
There was a short bass chord to follow.
Berljot sang:
“If I could do it over, I’d do it all again”
Then Godelieve took over.
“And if I got one more chance, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
Then the two sung in unison, “Aim high, shoot low”
Carita repeated it alone, and strongly.

Vasco was engaged with more punks wanting a piece of him, and his company being forced into the action as well. They were outnumbered six to three, but they all held their ground and gave them no satisfaction. With Vasco’s first opponent to focus on while deterring the other, he made his fighting look amateurish, so he could give the other a more thorough beating.
After another walk, he found the correct street, and strode along the sidewalk of it, until he found what he was looking for: a silver panel with a solid green light. He muttered, “Now, how to break it without bringing too much attention?”
One of his companions cleared her throat, and he instinctively looked back, to see that she was carrying a handful of rocks. He smiled and commented lowly, “Good idea.” He paused before offering, “Would you like the honours?”
The other companion answered, “Sure.” Vasco stood by, watching for more street punks as the two girls hurled rocks at the panel until it was knocked down.
He approached where it landed, still intact, and handed his club, saying, “Can’t handle another weapon when wearing brass knuckles.” So, one of the girls gave the panel a thorough beating, pausing to take it apart, until the machine was absolutely useless. Content that they had what they wanted, Vasco said, “Now let’s get out of here before cops happen to come by.”

The trio enticed their small audience further with the introduction to their next song of choice, which was fast. Carita sang:
“Saturday, steppin’ into the club
Someone wanna tell the DJ turn it up?
I feel the energy all around
And my body can’t stop movin’ to the sound but-
I can tell that you’re watching me
An’ you’re probably gonna write what you didn’t see
Well I just need a little space to breathe
Can you please respect my privacy?”
The others joined in.
“Why can’t- you just let me do-
The- things I wanna do
I just wanna be me
I don’ understand why-
Would you wanna bring me down-
If I’m only havin’ fun
I gonna live my life”
Berljot sung fast, “Not the way that you want me to”
Carita sang:
“I’m tired of rumours starting
I’m sick of being followed
I’m tired of people lyin’
Sayin’ what they want about me
Why can’t they back up off me?
Why won’t they let me live?
I’m gonna do it my way
Take this for just what it is”

Egon understood why he was given this area as his objective the second he entered it. He had no relation to what he saw of the part of the city, the streets being the neatest, the buildings all for corporate offices and so plain, and the occasional big-company deli or fast-food joint. He had taken the car to this area as it was too far away to just walk. He and his companions still stood out, as no one was dressed the same way as them. The only difference about their attire was the custom-made badge on the left sleeve. He looked carefully at the street signs, which was hard to do with such busy streets. After only a few minutes of searching, one of his two companions whispered, “One of the girls is following us.” Egon was about to turn around instinctively but was interrupted by the sudden addition, “A controlled girl.” That was when he realized what she was talking about. Egon kept leading his companions, and they were even more riled up. The same voice whispered frantically, “She might be following us.”
Egon said nothing, but kept going where he was told to go, wherever that may be, as he was unfamiliar with the place, and needed to keep referring to a small map that he’d brought along. He looked up and down, referring to the map and the street signs, and when he was sure of which directions to head, he started jogging, his two companions managing to keep up with him. The price was that he got people furious, crossing the roads without looking. However, it was deliberate that he would cause commotions, based on his pace as he jogged.
When finally at the right street sign, he stopped, and that gave his companions the chance to give the update. To their dread, the girl was in sight. Regardless of whatever order she was given, she would engage. The girl in white was getting closer whilst Egon looked around for something that would stand out. He referred to the map before choosing which direction to head next. There was a reason for that being his first choice. So, he strode, looking around on each high wall and each post, but had no luck there. When turning back—
There she was, standing in front of him. The girl in white looked a lot like the one that they’d apprehended and freed from control. This girl had her short swords out when the female spy behind Egon whispered, “You do what you came here for. We’ll slow her down.”
“Are you sure?” Egon whispered back. He wanted to be the who would protect others.
The young male spy answered, “Quite sure. Go on.” Egon reluctantly agreed to it, and started running, performing a feint before he kept running. How he would regret leaving the others behind.

Carita spoke, “Now, things will get deeper.” She started playing a repeating chord on the keyboard, the chord being a low and dramatic tune. The girl then sang:
“Tell me everything that happened
Tell me everything you saw”
The other girls sang as a reply:
“They had lights inside their eyes
They had lights inside their eyes”
Carita took it again. “Did you see the closing window
“Did you hear the slamming door?”
The other two sung in unison:
“They moved forward and my heart died
They moved forward and my heart died”
Carita sang: “Was there one you saw too clearly,
Did they seem afraid of you?”
Godelieve and Berljot sang lowly:
“They were kids that I once knew
They were kids that I once knew”
Carita went on alone with just the low drums and low bass to accompany the piano keys.
“I can say it but you won’t believe me
You say you do but you don’t deceive me
It’s hard to know they’re out there
It’s hard to know that you still care
I can say it but you won’t believe me
You say you do but you don’t deceive me
Dead hearts are everywhere
Dead hearts are everywhere”
There was a short bass solo as Berljot spoke lowly, “Will we be friends forever?” There was a pause before she added, “I’d miss you a lot…”
After a few more notes, Carita sang:
“Did you touch them, did you hold them,
Did they follow you to town?”
The other girls sang, “They made me feel, I’m falling down,
They made me feel, I’m falling down”
Carita sang:
“Was there one you saw too clearly,
Did they seem too real to you?”
Then, there was the line, “They were kids that I once knew,
They were kids that I once knew”
Carita sang alone:
“I can say it but you won’t believe me
You say do but you don’t deceive me
It’s hard to know they’re out there
It’s hard to know that you still care
I can say it but you won’t believe me
You say you do but you don’t deceive me
Dead hearts are everywhere,
Dead hearts are everywhere”
All three repeated that in unison.

Where Egon found himself, passersby were looking at him disapprovingly, which reminded him of memories that he hated. The nearest one to him was an unknown middle-aged man in an overcoat over a suit and carrying a briefcase, and Egon pulled him by a shoulder and hooked his face. That made the others keep their distance from him. Shortly after that, he was finally where the relay panel was, having been told what to expect of it. So, he tossed a hook on a rope to the beam holding the plastic panel. It took him a few tries, but he managed. His first instinct was to climb the rope, which he did, and wouldn’t have cared if he was to break or even bend the short beam with only his weight. The beam did bend, but subtly and more as he climbed up the rope. He didn’t feel rope burn at all. When finally at the beam, Egon went with his first choice, which was pulling out a hammer, the kind made to press nails with force. Trying to hold on to the rope with just his legs and one hand, he swung the hammer at the piece of plastic, only to make it break open, and that was when he noticed how bent the beam was, and hoped to take advantage of that. Expecting the insides to be more vulnerable, Egon kept hitting the panel with the hammer until most of the plastic containing the wires and the circuit boards was broken off, and then the rest forced apart.

In unison, the girls sang:
“They were kids that I once knew,
They were kids that I once knew
Now they’re all dead hearts to you
Now they’re all dead hearts to you
They were kids that I once knew,
They were kids that I once knew
Now they’re all dead hearts to you”

When turning around, Egon saw the blonde girl in white having caught up with him. The swords that she was carrying had no blood on them, and where she stood, she dropped the swords, letting them clatter against the cement, and she bent over, groaning, with her head in her hands. He put away the hook and rope that he was carrying, watching her shift her balance as she held tightly on her head. He didn’t know what to do, but he jumped to the conclusion that the police would get to his location before long if someone had alerted them and sold out the “cultist”. So, he made a run for it, scrambling to get his headset on. While trying to remember the directions to where he parked the car, he said frantically, “Tilly? Mark? Are you there? Are you okay?” He barely paused between the two questions, and heard nothing from the others. He continued, “Vasco! If you can hear me, we were compromised and split up.” He just stopped when catching up to the spies joining him. He knelt down, to feel their necks for pulses, and sighed with relief before he heard Vasco speak, “I read you, Egon. Your location?”
“On Broadworks and heading to Greenbacks Boulevard. The car is still some distance away. The spies have been subdued. Requesting extraction assistance.”
Vasco asked, “Have you taken out your target?”
“Broken beyond repair. Took it apart.”
“Get your companions as far away as you can, for now. Give me a minute to check, so I can alert someone stationed nearest your position.”
As he got the boy over his back and picked up the girl to carry in her arms, Egon remarked, “I may not have two minutes.” He then strained, “How do I know police won’t come in half a minute?”
Vasco answered, “Don’t be so overly nervous. Just do what you can, buddy.”
“Over and out”, Egon responded, still straining. Despite his muscle mass, he doubted that he could actually carry two people at once all the way of five blocks to where he’d parked the car.

By the time the sad song was over, bad feelings rushed to the teenagers, seeing a pair of cops in the uniform enter. In fact, all the chattering was reduced to mutters on what the two officers were doing, whether they were on duty or not. The people making up the short line to the register at the end of the bar counter moved aside quietly. The policeman slowly pulled out his straight-forward wallet and told the cashier, “Two cappuccinos with sugar, one whole-wheat bagel with butter, one ham and cheese panini, and two slices of banana bread.” Aware of the reaction to their presence, he added, “Make it all to go.” The policewoman looked around, and didn’t blame the onlookers for being edgy by the site of two people in uniforms. The young rebels were there.
Kenshin had his heart racing, as he was indecisive on how to proceed. No matter who was to start, there was a chance too big that they would make a scene. He had his hand on a stunner, expecting one of the two to get close. Primrose seemed to make a serious pose, having both hand on her hips, prepared to make things unpleasant, regardless. Little the rebel leader knew of what other officers and the inspectors were going through since what had happened at the other coffee house where Lady’s Ghostly Beats had performed. Hallam was confident that there would be no blood spilt in this establishment. He and Primrose weren’t minors, but the girls performing were, and all the young rebels in the abandoned orphanage and scattered throughout the city were aware of the orders to detain the rebels along with anyone and everyone “conspiring” with them.
The only other people to come off as calm were staff behind the bar counter, taking the orders, and very quietly. When the pair received their drinks and refreshments, they weren’t really on their way. The policewoman stated, “I saw that clip shown on the news… It was the shooter’s fault…”
The policeman added, “We’re among the very few to follow instinct.” That was all. Then, they headed toward the door. Primrose calmed down at that, taking her hands off her hips. She still glared at them venomously, even when Vasco contact her on their radio.

“She could’ve been distraught… She could’ve been helplessly confused… She could’ve felt many things at the same time…” Egon spoke, back at their headquarters. “The spies recovered a little late, when a unit found us. It was my turn to stay behind and fend off the enemy. We had to empty out apartment 43 of Manor Columns on Richardson. Couldn’t take chances.”
Primrose answered, “I understand, but your decisions sound too dangerous. You were still right to flee. The other Angels weren’t a priority.”
Kenshin spoke up, “Take a look at this.” He was showing a projection of the marked map. Having the leaders’ attention, he stood up and continued, “The positions of each relay seems to be equally apart from the next; I was checking the distance from those nearest to each other, and the ranges are precisely equal. When Egon took out his target”—he was pointing to the farthest one— “the nearest signal to the individual was to come from here.” He pointed to a lower area, and finished, “Which was just out of range.”
“Impressive”, Primrose commented to the narrow-eyed genius.
Vasco looked at her, suggesting, “If we take out the rest of the relay panels…” He didn’t feel the need to finish.
Primrose agreed, “It’s a good idea.” She then changed her tone. “But there’s a chance that the mayor will be onto us.”
Kenshin interjected, “I’ll keep you posted on the threats.”
Hallam asked, “How will we know where the others go? And how do we know those areas won’t be as dangerous?”
Primrose hummed lowly before saying bitterly, “You’re right about that…” She paced about before speaking up, “But we may need to risk it. Fight them if they engage, but try not to kill them. I would hate to be as bad as that cop.”
Vasco asked, “How’s tomorrow, to take out the rest of the relays?”
Primrose didn’t hesitate at all to answer, “We should do that, see how that pisses the mayor off.” Vasco looked at her contently and patted her shoulder. Hallam was looking forward to just being of use to the young woman.

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Nine: Fire

Tension was still in the air over what had happened the day before, as Sipho had been feeling over his usual breakfast. In fact, all the courtesans beginning their day were on the edge. The tan man didn’t rule out that the young man had already told someone how he felt working at Catenza di Giardini, and Sipho was much too early to forget Rogelio’s reaction to being told that the place was a brothel. The Madonna meant well toward the people she had taken in and hoped to give meaning to. Unfortunately, that didn’t change Sipho’s attitude about what would happen with him, if before long.
Even the barwoman, who hadn’t curled her long brunette hair for that day, was silent. She was almost as old as Sipho and had been working for the same woman for over a decade just like Sipho. The two were friends, but not really as close as Sipho was to his boss’s daughter. Being a bartender, she had been a sympathetic ear, as she would occasionally receive a tip, just for customers to get her attention. After all, the courtesans wouldn’t refuse to hear people talk about their problems. Such was not the case at that moment. Sipho wanted to let no words out in front of Esperanza. She wished that she could say something to make him feel better, but she was lost with words. She hadn’t even told the others about the deal that the Madonna and the baroness had arranged. It would be so soon before she would depart and she doubted that the Madonna had thought about the part when she was to hire a new bartender.
As usual, it was after Sipho had finished his tea and his oatmeal with figs, he saw Rogelio approach the bar. The red hair had been combed and there was no redness in his face or even his eyes. He muttered to Esperanza the tea that he would like, and she turned around to prepare a bag and the kettle. Sipho took that chance to stand up and step toward the young man to say his name. The young man muttered his acknowledgement, which was near indecipherable.
Sipho spoke lowly, “If you’ve nothing to say, just listen: what I said last night about you and me was more my opinion than fact. It is true that I have been an employee for almost eleven years, and I have been frustrated with this. I have been going nowhere in my life, just like any adolescent surely fears”-
The tan man was interrupted by Rogelio looking at him and speaking, “But you are right that getting older is scary. And I say, you are right that doing the same job for so long gets you replaced.”
“And what do you think of trying for so long to get a career abroad, but having nothing to show for it?”
“Deprimente…” Rogelio answered. “I know not even what I wanted for a career. I was once fortunate, but I had no idea how to manage money. That is why I looked for a job.” He leaned in to whisper, “I still have much of my inheritance from my mother.”
Sipho whispered back, “You still have the emotional stress, I understand, but please do not give up on your life.” The tan man was staring intently. He had seen spirit in the young man the day they had first met, and now was afraid that Rogelio’s spirit would break.
As Rogelio was handed his morning tea, he asked, “Do you understand the feeling about growing up with parents that hate each other?”
“Not at all, but I sympathise.”
Rogelio could have asked why that was, but instead he stated, “I should prepare my breakfast. I would like to talk more, but maybe at the end of the day.”
As Rogelio headed to the doorway of the kitchen, Sipho muttered something in his mother language before gulping the last of his own tea. The shift was soon to begin, and Sipho was fully on-board with his duties.

The tan man chose to take no break save for his midday lunch, which was a simple sandwich and a piece of fruit. Minutes after that, he got back to work and kept himself busy for the day. He still had the occasional interaction with the young man, reminding him to keep his back straight. Rogelio still needed to remember maintaining the proper posture. The last time Sipho had to give the reminder, had him wonder, “Was he not always classy?” Sipho had been pushed to behave like an aristocrat after entering as a refugee from a lost home. It was the same case with other people granted asylum with the help of de Vitis.
The tan man paused at that, his next question in his head being: “What got me so interested in someone when I am still vague about my details?” He sighed that off as he headed back to the kitchen. He still had energy, and he had come to hate wasting it by pacing around a complex for hours on end. He had a life before living here, and he had been less happy over the past decade than even the day he lost everything. Now his age was something to make the part of his mind say even more loudly that he was soon to lose everything again.

To make things interesting again, Sipho was onto a man at a small table gulping wine out of its bottle, which was added to a whole stuffed-crab dinner. He approached the man, who was in a business suit and just loosening his tie. Sipho asked casually, “Everything fine here?”
The man answered in an attempt at Italian, but saying the wrong words. Still, Sipho understood the tone of someone wanting to be alone and got that the last of the man’s speech was on the line of “Go away.”
So, the tan man approached the bar, where the brunette still sat, waiting for someone to startle her. Rogelio saw Sipho point to the small table and Esperanza nodded. Before choosing to look around again, Sipho asked, “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” Esperanza asked back.
“You look nervous. You have been since this morning.”
The brunette looked down before looking at Sipho and said lowly, “Come over here. Come behind the counter.” Sipho reluctantly moved to the side where the counter would open and met behind it. He hesitated when Esperanza came into view before slowly approaching her. She had the lump! It was subtle, but noticeable, and Sipho had good eyes.
The tan man couldn’t believe what he was seeing. She had already taken to wearing loose-fitting dresses, though it hadn’t been long. What was Sipho to say? A courtesan having the such condition shouldn’t have been a surprise, but this was the first bartender of the brothel that Sipho knew, who would be expecting. The others having worked there in the past were excited for each other. Sipho had been the exception, having chosen to not befriend the others.
So, the tan man’s first remark to this: “Does anyone else know?”
Esperanza answered, “Only the Madonna.”
“How long?”
“Two months now. I told her after I received confirmation, three weeks.”
“What will you do?”
“A baroness was here yesterday, and she offered to buy me out of my contract. Tornerà ‘un giorno della prossima settimana’. I have a say in it, but…” She failed to find the right words to finish with.
“Your career should not end because of this”, Sipho objected softly. “But the Madonna should have never considered deserting her children to think of this.” He waved an arm to get the point across.
“What about”-
Sipho interrupted, “She focuses on Sogna for a reason, but one problem at a time. My mother embraced her family tradition of teaching creative arts. My sister and I both wanted to be famous artists, but you have the luxury of being away from crime and bias. You can still make a career while making time for family and friends.” He paused to catch his breath, before finishing, “No matter what happens, and no matter what others say, keep going.”

There was suddenly the slam of a table being flipped, which caught the tan man’s attention. The same man dining alone was arguing with the hostess and hands-on with the red-blonde waitress Amalia. Sipho approached, shouting, “Let her go! Now!” The man in the disheveled suit protested in gibberish. The bottle that he’d downed was broken and no liquid was spilled. To add to the mess were the jagged pieces of a broken porcelain plate.
Of course, the man didn’t comply, and instead kept her arm in his hand tight like a vice and spat again in gibberish. Sipho muttered something before he spoke up, “Get yourself out of the way Amalia!”
Seeing the tan man approach one step was enough for the intoxicated man to feel threatened, which was why he grabbed the server’s other arm with his free hand and held her in front of him. The threat had just grown worse. There was nothing that Sipho could do. The intoxicated man was likely to want only one thing for him to expect of a woman at a brothel, but that would mean doing worse. Everyone was just watching, reluctant to do anything about it. Still, Sipho wanted order, and would not let this man get away with anything against the law. He still approached very slowly, expecting an attack with each step, but the intoxicated man flinched and seemed to tighten his grip on the server as he tensed.
When Sipho was but an inch away from his opponent, the intoxicated man’s arms went up, which told the tan man the assumption. That still didn’t discourage Sipho from opening his cuff with his hands behind his back, and letting something fall into his hand. He then took a deep breath before swiftly waving his arm with a blade pointing down, the blade penetrating the fabric of his opponent’s jacket, shirt, and then his skin. Sipho shifted the hilt as the blade was dug into the flesh of the intoxicated man’s upper arm, and he just groaned at that. Sipho yanked the blade out, now dripping blood, before striking again, this time with the intoxicated man catching Sipho’s arm, but that enabled Amalia to scuffle out of the arms and she staggered away. Sipho then swept a leg over his opponent’s making him lose footing, and Sipho went down with him, stabbing him in the shoulder. The tan man hastily pulled himself up, before he could be grabbed, and kicked the side of the man’s face, and then where he had first stabbed.
Sipho stood there, watching the intoxicated man slowly stand up. He was somehow alert enough to know that there would be a senseless fight. So, he headed for the door, the hostess pushing him. Sipho called, “Come here and fight drunk again, I will cut your throat!”
Just as he was headed for the kitchen, Sipho spotted the young man and stopped as he could see the horror in his blue eyes. All that Rogelio had to say—and lowly—was: “Why…?”
“Cortigiane do not deserve to be pinned down”, Sipho answered bitterly.

(For two days, Sipho had been isolating himself in his apartment, and all the ladies knew that it was for more than recuperating. This was the longest time off that he’d had for a while. The tan man heard the barwoman come and go again as he attempted at a painting that others would have called morbid, stifling the occasional groan as he stroked with a brush. He didn’t need to look back from his desk to know that she’d taken the empty items and left a tray of his dinner.
(Unfortunately, Sipho didn’t feel like eating all that day, even though he did. He had been quiet as the dead since the incident. His back had been aching from too much of his muscles being pulled, his spine had ended up slightly misshapen, a hip was bruised, and his good arm had a hairline fracture. All of that was the result of one session of aggressive sex. It was more than his body to break. A part of him had died. He had been an emotional wreck since being subdued by the physical pain. If the others were to assume that Sipho had changed how he saw people, they were right.
(Sipho ate his dinner in silence, now wondering if Sogna hated him, for he had slammed the door on even her when he’d snapped and made everyone leave him alone. All that he could do was stare at the cast over his forearm, as a reminder of his worst moment yet. It only made his despair harder to fight. He was pinned down and his resistance had failed.)

Rogelio asked, “And… what prompted that...?” They were just in the kitchen, Sipho cleaning his stiletto at the sink. Sipho heard the addition, but only worked to get the blood off and sterilise the blade. He had been relying on no one but himself and his own skills.
It was while waiting for the air to dry the stiletto and after Sipho had tried his own hands, he looked to Rogelio, who was still there—his presence showing that he was pressing on—Sipho finally answered, “Let us just say that not all sconosciuti who come and go are friendly to cortigiane used as one-time partners.”
Rogelio was close to asking about Sipho’s experience of such a thing, but remembering that Sipho hated being pressed when in a foul mood, he held his tongue, and only looked at him sadly before heading back to the diner floor, so they could both get back to work. As the young man predicted, the other patrons were still in shock from what had happened a few minutes earlier. Another server was already cleaning up the spot where the broken glass and porcelain were. Rogelio remembered like it was the day before, the time when he’d knocked out the previous drunk to cause trouble, who’d tried to choke Sipho. So, he thought, “Was Sipho’s pride hurt by a kid saving his life?”

What came to Sipho’s mind after the end of his shift, he omitted dessert for. He tried hard as he’d been doing with the curious creature that he’d been studying. It was a wonder that he’d overlooked—if never heard of at all—such a beast. Except, this time, all that Sipho could think of was blood. So, that was what he was trying to paint: the creature terribly wounded and coughing blood, something strong becoming unbearably weak. It was not out of anger, as he was careful and meticulous with the strokes of his brush. To battle his emotions was a part of his process of one of his paintings or sketches. He could only push so far before the emotion would get the best of him.
It was late when he stopped, which was when the canvas was filled. To cause him frustration, that sheet, which he left on his desk, was his last one. Sipho was weary, and he would have work to do, just like almost every day for as long as his time of living at the brothel.
His thoughts as he tried to get to sleep were of his family. The fact that his birthday was the same as his sister had added to the depression of the day that he’d dreaded. The tan man was on the verge of tears, envisioning his dear sister. That made for less of a chance of sleeping that night.

Two days went by with Sipho doing his menial job. Being out of canvas seemed to be nothing as no one even feigned interest in what he would do for patrons from abroad or those that happened to carry around a large amount of money. After those two days, the tan man went into town to buy sheets of canvas and other supplies that he would need, but suddenly after leaving the shop, the tick of despair crawled up his back and to his neck to remind him of how he would or would not be able to pay the rent now that it was a new month. What kind of service could he still be of now that he was the dreaded age of thirty?

The tan man was suddenly surprised by a sudden greeting from the young blonde woman, saying excitedly, “Sipho! I was just coming to see you!” They were just inches away from the door of the diner.
Sipho asked monotonously, “Why?”
“Your lesson, of course! I still want to take dance lessons!”
He had completely forgotten that. “Mi dispiace, Sogna”, he responded. “I have been out of the game too long to remember when I was to guide you.”
“I can come back another time when you are more prepared and know where we left off.”
Sipho shook his head. “I would hurt your mother if I did that.”
“Are you sure you want to get to it anyway?” she asked, following Sipho to the stairs.
“Quite sure”, Sipho answered when at the first step. “Just let me put these away and look through my notes then we can get on with it.”
Sogna responded, not convinced, “If you say so, but take your time.”
To try and convince himself that he was up to it, Sipho headed to his boss’s office, seeing that the door was open. When entering, the young woman had been waiting, the chairs were aside and her jacket was hung up. The tan man stated plainly, “We can pick up where we left off.” Sogna nodded and approached the door to lock it, as only she and the Madonna had the right to do so. She then turned around, offering her hand. It was so sudden that Sipho looked at her hesitantly. He’d once wondered how she could trust him so easily. Now, he wondered, “Is she the only reason I am still welcome in this place?” Before Sogna could ask what made him hesitate, he took her hand and began his recap. There was a reason that he had been holding back on teaching patterns that pairs would perform. Even the young woman knew that.

The biggest reason Sipho hated being reminded of his age: he would worth even less. On this day, the reminder of his age was a moment that had ruined his time with his best friend and was what he had dreaded. “How could you become incapable of standing?” Sogna asked with concern.
Sipho muttered, “A part of aging.”
“But I understand not”, Sogna retorted. “You are still young and healthy.”
Sipho sighed, looking up at his friend, “Sogna… I never considered to dance at all… I was never one to move my body with grace. I tried and I was reckless, resulting in impropriety. Since then, I tried avoiding embarrassing myself with such laughable motion.”
“Then why did you want to start teaching me so long ago?”
“It was never my first choice. I only believed in helping you find an outlet. I was skeptic even then…” He paused before continuing, “But you gave me the nudge as I did with you; you made me better at something than I once thought I would be.” He sighed as he stood up, “But it doesn’t matter now. I may have demonstrated moves, but those ones never required the spine.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have not forgotten the solitude that I demanded over my injury, and I regret scolding you for nothing. I have a new reminder of a memory that I hate, and the only use that I have for your mother and her business is gone now.”
Sogna felt her eyes well up as she shook her head. “No, Sipho, do not say that. You still have a meaning I need you!”
“Face it, Signorina! The man you looked up to is a failure. In life, you cannot always succeed. This was never my dream and I know only art. I have no skills that could give me a real job or career. No one intends to work for your mother for too long. I am just another one of her puttane.” He expressed his disgust at the last word. The tan man stormed out of the office.
The young woman then hurried to catch up with him. She saw that he had quickly grabbed his jacket and was heading for the front door of the diner. When close enough, she called desperately, “Sipho!” She reached out a hand—
Only for Sipho to slap it aside. Only showing the side of his face to her and staying where he was, he hissed, “Don’t. Follow. Me.” He seethed so much inside that he was tempted to threaten her with his stiletto to keep her away, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. Sogna only stood there and looked at Sipho with dread before he looked away and walked out the door. With that, she broke out in tears and pressed a hand over her face.

Just a few seconds later, someone came up to her and Sogna looked up feeling hands on her shoulders, to see that it was the barwoman to hope to tend to her. Esperanza led her away from the diner and to the storage behind the bar, where Sogna explained what had just happened. The barwoman was lost with words, and only held Sogna in her arms as she wept.

Esperanza herself had grown more nervous now that the week was at its end. It was in the middle of the day that Sipho sat at the bar, just staring at the counter as if he was looking for something microscopic. He was in no mood at the moment to wait on the lunch crowd. So, the barwoman took advantage of this. She pretended to pour gin in a glass in front of Sipho, stating, “Sogna was terribly upset.” It had been two days since what was close to an argument.
Sipho replied, “I do not expect her to forgive me for lashing out at her.”
Esperanza scoffed, “Never heard that before.”
“Because I never do. Think you I forgive the people who destroyed my house? Think you I forgive the man who broke me? Think you I forgive Tamara for all her condescension toward me?”
“The Madonna discourages no kind of grudges, but you cannot let that anger get the best of you.”
“I am only human, Esperanza. Sogna is, too. If we feel no anger or sadness, we lie to ourselves by trying to feel only joy. Il piatto della bilancia oscilla sempre.”
Esperanza paused at that before remarking, “I expect mine to do such rapidly. I also meant to say: the other girls know of the deal with the baronessa, but not Rogelio, for I want to be the one to tell him.”
Acting like he didn’t care, Sipho answered, “As you wish.” He then stood up, to get back to work. He himself had been growing weary. How much energy could he have now from doing something as insufferable it was tedious, every day?
Play For Me Ch. Nine: Fire
Just think I waited too long to post a chapter, even though I was willing to give someone time to catch up. If I'm to have Beta-readers, I need assurance that those people would actually read my work in advance.
Based on the chapter itself: I may have had one of those many times when I was stumped on where to make the transition.


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Alex Monkman
Artist | Literature
Current Residence: Ontario, Canada
deviantWEAR sizing preference: N/A
Favourite genre of music: Rock of any kind
Favourite photographer: Thelma Aterno (Ariel87), Mads Bjerre Henriksen, Petra Allerlei and Tereza Hola
Favourite style of art: Dark, fantasy, and emotional
Favourite cartoon character: Simba, Soren, Spyro, Cloud, Kiba, Kaiba Seto, Maka Albarn
Personal Quote: If you believe in yourself, you can accomplish almost anything.
Thought I'd spread word on a sort of raffle. My friend MischievousRaven has created her own species and now arranged a fictional festival with the species that could be potential original characters. I glossed over it, but there are stories behind them and reasons for their features. You'll get all the detail by following instructions here-- --and following the previous journal entry featured.
  • Listening to: Jacksepticeye's comentary
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Anisa-Mazaki Featured By Owner May 31, 2017  Professional Digital Artist
Airborne Trophy Dance! Juggle Boogie!  Party :squee:Free Avatar - CupTardCake Sun HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Sun Free Avatar - CupTardCake  :squee: Party Boogie!   Juggle Dance! Trophy Airborne 

Have some free Art too, for your Special Day :) (Smile)
Agent36496 Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2017   Writer
Wow, thanks ^^
Anisa-Mazaki Featured By Owner Jun 2, 2017  Professional Digital Artist
Star! Heart Love Star! Ribbon 01 Star!  You're Welcome  Star! Ribbon 01 Star! Heart Love Star! 
Johnithan-Walters Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
Happy birthday kamerad, congrats on surviving another 1000+ mph trip around the sun! Have your cake and eat it too The Cake Is A Lie 
Agent36496 Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2017   Writer
Thank you
Johnithan Featured By Owner May 31, 2017  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday sir!
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Thank you
lostintheflowoftime Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
Happy Birthday! I hope you had a wonderful day :)
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Aw, thanks ^^
lostintheflowoftime Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2017
You're welcome :D
birthdays Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
:woohoo: :party: :iconcakelickplz: !!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! :iconcakelickplz: :party: :woohoo:

It's Wednesday May 31st 2017th which means it's that time of the year again and your special day is here! We hope you have an awesome day with lots of birthday fun, gifts, happiness and most definitely, lots of cake! Here's to another year!

Many well wishes and love from your friendly birthdays team :love:

Birthdays Team
This birthday greeting was brought to you by: dovepaw3000
SheltieWolf Featured By Owner May 31, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy Birthday.
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Arigato :hug:
SheltieWolf Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Douitashimashite. (You are welcome.) :D
Agent36496 Featured By Owner Jun 1, 2017   Writer
I'm saving that so I'd remember ^^
EthanRedOtter Featured By Owner May 31, 2017  Student Writer
Super Fantastic Golden Platter Cake 3D Happy birthday!!!!!!!!Super Fantastic Golden Platter Cake 3D 
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Aw, thanks ^^
WolfAP Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
Happy birthday!
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Thanks ^^
Guardianowlbubo Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
HAPPY BIRTHDAY! ^v^birthday cake :owl: 
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Thanks, buddy :hug:
Guardianowlbubo Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
Your welcome! ^v^
Jasperinity Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
Happy birthday! :D
Agent36496 Featured By Owner May 31, 2017   Writer
Thanks ^^
Jasperinity Featured By Owner May 31, 2017
No problem! :3
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