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I am the chief executioner for the country. All who die for breaking the law come to me and are killed by my assistant executioners or me. The law allows any method to be used to execute a felon and it is rare for the court to proscribe one. Just as it is rare for an execution to be carried out anywhere else than in these chambers. Both do happen though and we are ready to provide what ever services the court demands. I have killed using almost every method you have ever heard of and consider myself to be very good at my job. Unless directed otherwise I try to keep things simple and civilized, I do not allow torture or rape nor unnecessary force. My clients are paying for their transgressions with their lives and I feel that that in enough. We strive to end lives in a humane manner with as little stress as we can manage. I will describe a typical execution. This one was a young girl. I do all the females normally and the law allows the execution of any over the age of 10 but I digress.
  She is brought to me in the death chamber. I wait behind a table that has drinks and snacks on it. She sits in the chair across from me. They very seldom notice that it is bolted to the floor nor do they seem to care that it has a seat like a toilet. Made of heavy wood and heavily painted so as to be easy to clean it sits in a small depression in the tile floor. There is a large drain under it and we can flush off the chair and the floor easily. There is no preparation for the condemned other than stripping their clothes off and this is the usual practice whenever they are taken from their cells so that does not upset them. She is held in place by a wide belt that can not be loosened by the chair’s occupant but her hands and feet are free. I always welcome them as friends and stand as they are brought in. We will talk and I will offer drinks and snacks. They have no idea that I will be the last person they see. When they are relaxed I steel the talk around to their impending execution and ask their feelings about it. By now most of them have come to grips with the idea that they are going to die and can talk about it without panic. At the right time I tell them who I am  and most ask if I am going to kill them. I find that the truth is always the right thing and that most are relieved that their wait is over. Knowing is better than wondering if every day is your last. They will ask when and I tell them now. At this point things speed up. As I explain what will happen I gently strap the wrists to the chair arms. They are encouraged to pray if they wish and I will give truthful answers to any questions asked. Most want to know if it will hurt- if they sit quietly and allow me to work it will be all over very quickly and there will be little pain as they will pass out very  soon. Then they ask if they really must die or why do I have to kill them- I explain that they have broken the law and the law demands their death. Many times they wish to hold somebody’s hand so one of my assistants will do so for them. I move any long hair up and secure it under a hairnet before the thin cord of the garrote is passed around  her neck. By now she is crying but is facing her death bravely. I ask her to exhale or wait until she gives up trying to hold her breath before I tighten the cord. Although the garrote kills as much by stopping the blood supply to the brain as by strangulation I find things are over sooner and with less fuss if the lungs are empty. As the structures in the neck collapse under the pressure she will kick out and drum her heels on the floor. Her hands will fight for the freedom to reach her neck and she will buck against the belt. nothing she does will make the slightest bit of difference, her neck is unable to pass air to her lungs and the blood to her brain is cut off as I pull the wooden handles attached to the cord. She struggles for less than a minute but she is only aware for part of that time. She fight will end suddenly, she will just go limp in the chair. I will then make another loop around her neck and with the help of my assistant I will tie the cord tightly around her crushed neck. By the time I am done she will lose control of her sphincters and there will be the smell of sudden death. She will be left in the chair for one hour before being washed and removed. She will be buried in an unmarked grave with the death cord still tied around her neck. She will be forgotten by all except her loved ones.
Head Headsman
im the Executioner in this story 
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snuff f   gut


The post was there waiting for her. It had not changed in her lifetime but now it radiated a menace she had never noticed. Yes, she had watched as others had stood where she was now, had watched as their blood had stained the stone pavement under the post, and had joined in the ceremony marking the sun’s longest day. She had even envied those girls who had such an important part in insuring the favor of the gods, they had seemed to her to be truly blessed.
The rich robes were heavy and hot, woven of the finest fleece of the alpaca and lama they were then covered with many, many feathers of  brilliant birds. Under the robes she wore only a simple shift and loincloth made of the purest white. A junior priest stood on each side of her, lightly holding her hands and upper arms. Were they there to support her or to insure her cooperation? A high priest invoked the names of the gods and beseeched their blessing and aid for the coming year. She listened as he promised them a gift from those who asked their aid, a gift pure and clean, a gift that willingly gave of itself that the people would prosper, a gift that would serve them for all time but would never age or fail to please.  
 The shadow of the post fell across her feet, it was time. The rich robes were removed from her as she was led forward to the stone table in front of the post. Helped up to stand on it where she was shown to the assembled throngs. A low murmur swept the crowd, truly she was a worthy gift to send. Her shift and loincloth were cut off with a glass knife and she stood there, young, virgin, beautiful. Now she lays down on the table. In the shadow of the post her hands and feet are held by priests as the senior of them also strips and climbs between her legs. She cries out in pain as she submits to the test. The blood leaking from around his member proves her worthiness as the gift. Once more she is stood so all can see the virgins blood as it runs down her legs. With shaky legs she makes her way to the post. The sun is almost to the zenith, it is now that the gift must be offered.
 The straps holding her to the post are made of the softest leather but easily ignore her best efforts at movement. One across her forehead, two holding her shoulders, one on her thighs, and one at her knees. Her arms are behind her, elbows tied together behind the post. Just for a moment she is left standing there. A vision of captive loveliness, young breasts forced up and out by her bonds, body shined by her sweat , the soft light colored straps standing out over her tanned body. The fear rises in her. She reminds herself that this is the highest honor she ever could receive. That her family and her city are dependent on the good will of the gods. The good will she will ask them for when she sees them after the ceremony. The senior priest has replaced his robes. Just before her eyes are covered by a hand she catches a glimpse of the knife, scalloped glass edges catching the light. Yes the gods were here and were waiting for her. Their light was in the tool that would end her life and launch her sprit on its mission.
 All wait until the shadow touches a mark incised in the stone terrace. At that point the priest gives the blessing and the knife begins its task. Sharper than any razor it slips easily through the brown skin just above her pubic bone.  At first it feels cold then as the wound opens the pain starts. Slicing easily through her skin, muscles, and organs it travels upward. The sawing motions allow the serrated edge to part anything it comes into contact with. The wound grows until just below her breastbone the knife is removed from her body. Frozen by the shock and pain she stands there for just the briefest time before the freed organs slide from her belly. The hand covering her eyes is taken away. Even with her head strapped  to the post she can look down at the pile of guts laying at her feet. As she opens her mouth to scream a ball of raw rubber is forced into it. There will be no screams to mar the ceremony. All that is left for her is pain and death. She had always admired the bravery of the other girls, the ones who stood strong and silent with the massive wound in their bellies.  Now too late she has learned the truth. She is also standing tall and silent with her death wound in her belly but there is no bravery. The pyre is lit for her. She feels the tugging as her guts are picked up, cut free from her body and carefully laid on the burning pile. Her end is near now. The shock and blood loss causes her vision to darken. The agony that just seconds ago filled her fades. Bright white light fills her. One or two last gasps of air and she surrenders to the inevitable. Death claims her. The ceremony is almost complete. The priest blesses both her and all present. Her body is cut down and carefully placed on the burning pyre along with her robes and straps. The knife is thrown down and broken. The sun shines brightly as the shadow moves slowly past the mark. One more year will be good, all is well.
execution sacrifice
another dark story 
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The women’s prison on Batu Kesepian island was one of these South Asian hellholes you hear about in drug mule stories. A naive college student gets a sealed package for a “friend of a friend” in a tropical paradise, gets arrested at the airport and swiftly given a traditional harsh sentence, usually death. Two pounds of cocaine guaranteed that you would be shot in Indonesia, hanged in Malaysia or given a lethal injection in Thailand, and Panau was no different. It was just a little more old-fashioned: as a former French colony, Panau used guillotines, even after gaining independence. In some prisons, especially those housing male inmates, executions were carried out by hanging instead, but older ones, Batu Kesepian among them, kept their old devices.
Batu Kesepian meant “Lonesome Rock” in Malay - an apt name for a rocky island off the shore of Panau, housing a nineteenth-century prison that really hasn’t changed much since it was built. Guillotine itself stood in front of Building D, or the “Death Row Hilton”, that closed the rectangle formed by the C-shaped jailhouse. First, almost every Death Row Hilton inmate was getting her hair cut to a short bob upon being locked up and every three months after. Second, cells in Death Row Hilton were solitary and we were specifically forbidden from talking in the shower and during the haircuts. So much for socializing. Third, before every execution, sirens were sounded so the inmates could watch from the windows of their cells in both buildings. Of course that usually happened after the inmates made enough racket themselves at the sight of the “corpse truck” used to transport simple wooden coffins from the workshop and, after filling them, to the crematory, but clearly signaled the intention. Corpse truck meant that near noon, a row of naked women with damp hair would be led out of “Death Row Hilton” into the fenced-off portion of the yard, led one by one to the scaffold and beheaded. I saw it enough times from a front-row seat. At first, I was scared. Then, I tried to imagine all those romantic scenes with doomed heroines calmly accepting their fate. And I haven’t even noticed when watching it started making me wet.

So, one morning, the corpse truck arrived again. I heard some commotion in the corridor, inmates getting called out of their cells and finally, the door to my cell opened.
“You, Raven! Get up!” the guard pointed her nightstick at me. “Face the wall!”
After I stood against the wall, she handcuffed me and led me out of the cell. I saw another two women, a young blonde girl and one of the locals, being led through the hallway. They took us down to the showers. A prison official was already waiting in the hallway with a clipboard and three more guards, one of them wearing a garrison cap with red piping. The sign of an executioner.
“Prisoner number 860493, Maria Irawan,” she read. “You have been sentenced to death for terrorism and five counts of murder. There was no appeal. You will be executed by guillotine today.”
She was one of the locals, and she didn’t even flinch. She probably was one of the local guerrillas, the Ulars, who smuggled guns, drugs and sometimes kidnapped the foreigners.
“Prisoner number 860937, Julia Dumont,” the official read just as the girl burst into tears. “You have been sentenced to death for drug smuggling. Your appeal has been turned down. You will be executed by guillotine today.”
“Please!” the girl cried, dropping to her knees. “I am innocent! I didn’t know!”
The guard hit her in the back with a baton and pulled her up.
“Prisoner number 861011, Madeleine Raven,” I just swallowed hard upon hearing this. “You have been sentenced to death for drug smuggling. Your appeal has been turned down. You will be executed by guillotine today.”
When the official finished reading the sentences, two guards opened double doors to the shower room and led us inside.
“You all, undress and go shower!” one of the guards pointed her nightstick at the metal table with dividers first, and then at the shower cabins. They led us to the cabins one by one, in the order the official read our names before. The shower, as usual, was cold and we barely had any time to wash ourselves. When the water stopped, I turned around to see a line of guards, already waiting with zip-ties. And then my heart started racing.
“You all stay calm.” the executioner ordered. “Turn around, hands behind your back.”
I felt the zip-ties bite into my wrists, and then two guards led me to the metal double doors that were usually kept locked. The executioner produced a keyring from her pocket and opened the door. I looked aside to see the blonde girl almost faint at the sight of prison courtyard outside.
The executioner and her two assistants walked out first, then the guards led us one by one.
“You all stand in row.” the executioner ordered. “You not move, you not scream.”
The executioner’s assistants carried one of the coffins to the guillotine and removed the lid. Then, they walked over to us and grabbed the first condemned by her arms. She didn’t struggle, just walked over to the guillotine and allowed the guards to strap her into the bascule. Then, they lowered her and locked the lunette around her neck. After the two guards stepped aside, the executioner pulled the lever.
I watched as the blade fell, stopping with a loud thud as the Ular guerrilla’s head fell into a metal tub positioned under the guillotine. Blood started dripping noisily from the blade. The assistants undid the leather straps, one of them picked up the severed head and the other one pushed the lifeless body off the bascule and into the coffin. Then, they put the lid back on, carried the coffin to the corpse truck, brought another coffin to the guillotine and reset the blade.
I watched as the poor blonde girl struggled, dragged to the guillotine. She wasn’t screaming, she was just struggling and crying all the way. Even after they strapped her in, she tried kicking and even screamed as a drop of blood hit her face. The executioner promptly pulled the lever, the girl’s head landed in the tub and her legs fell limply to the bascule.
I looked down when they came for me. I was starting to feel wet, especially after watching two beheadings before my own. I wanted to break free and masturbate myself then and there. Suddenly I stumbled, almost falling, but they grabbed me tightly and pulled me back up.
When they strapped me to the bascule, I looked up at the bloody blade. The leather straps were tight, but I just started breathing fast, quivering and getting wet... The bascule was lowered and I watched as the lunette closed in. Then, my head went through it and I looked down at the bloody metal tub. I just couldn’t take it any longer and almost moaned. I tensed up, trying hopelessly to break free. Then, I heard the blade fall.
THUNK! Madeleine’s body suddenly went limp as her head fell into the metal tub. The executioner’s assistants undid the leather straps and pushed her headless corpse off into the coffin, along with her head.
Picnic at the Lonesome Rock
im sorry if this story bothers you
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When the seventh grade class stepped outside to join the rest of the students, Sally and Cindy, grinning freely, each grabbed one of Ibiki's hands and began parading him around the girls' side of the playground. Within a matter of moments there was a crowd of wide-eyed, giggling girls trailing the trio. The boys on the other side of the yard had halted their baseball and basketball games and were watching from a distance. Word quickly spread about Ibiki's earlier female clothing shame and subsequent stripping. There was a buzz in the air, and the excitement level was extraordinary. As all eyes focused on him, Ibiki, blushing crimson, avoided eye contact with everyone.

Sally and Cindy, clutching Ibiki's hands securely, gradually started walking faster and faster, until they sped to a skip. Ibiki walked briskly, occasionally speeding to a trot to keep up with the grinning twosome. "Skip with us, Ibiki," ordered Sally. "We promised Sister Mary Ruth you'd get some exercise. You want us to give Sister Ruth a good report, don't you?"

Ibiki had no choice but to follow the lead of his two tormentors. While he skipped around the yard the back of his skirt bobbed up and down, briefly exposing his ruffled panties with each skip. His attempts to hold the skirt down were rebuffed, as the girls had a firm grasp of his hands. Sally and Cindy were having the time of their lives while being cheered on by their appreciative audience. It was certainly a recess session no one would soon forget.


The Eighth Graders

Sally and Cindy eventually became winded, so they stopped with Ibiki by a bench against the wall of the school building. Ibiki used the opportunity to sit down, being careful to smooth down his skirt. Most of the girls were milling around in the vicinity of  Ibiki, very much absorbed in the unusual spectacle. Within moments after Ibiki was seated, three girls from the eighth grade approached him. Two of them sat down on either side of him, while the other stood facing him next to Sally and Cindy. Not far behind them, a large gathering of girls looked on with considerable interest. Ibiki was becoming more ill at ease by the second. The cute girl on his left spoke first.

"Hi, pretty boy, my name's Karen," she said as she ran her hand through Ibiki's blond hair. "This is Linda on your right, and that's Nancy."

"Please, just leave me alone," pleaded Ibiki while staring down to the ground.

"His name is Ibiki," Sally offered.

"Gee, Ibiki," teased Karen, "You're dressed more like a 'Ibiki.' May I call you Ibiki?" Ibiki started to get up, but Nancy persuaded him back down with a gentle but purposeful push to his shoulders. "Don't leave, Ibiki," Karen said. "We're just trying to be friendly. We heard you were quite the slut in class today, with your little striptease act. We feel like we really missed out. We're thinking that since you showed your goodies to the seventh graders, then certainly you can put on a little show for your upper class women." A look of fear swept across Ibiki's face. Although wearing the girl's uniform caused him considerable humiliation, it sure beat the heck out of public nudity.

Ibiki's skirt had risen up a couple of inches when he sat down. Karen, eyeing Ibiki's thighs, ran the tips of her fingers back and forth across the top of his left thigh. " You've got very pretty legs, Ibiki. Just like a little schoolgirl's." Ibiki squirmed uneasily. "Feel Ibiki's legs, Linda," continued the grinning Karen. "They're so nice and silky smooth."

Linda stroked Ibiki's right thigh. "Ooh, you're right, Karen," taunted Linda. "They're smoother than a baby's bottom. Probably as smooth as Ibiki's bottom. Can you show us your smooth little bottom, Ibiki?" There was giggling all around as Ibiki sunk deeper into the throes of his wretchedness. Then Karen's hand delved a little higher up Ibiki's thigh, probing under his skirt. Ibiki instinctively grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away. Karen immediately slapped him across his face, marking the second time that morning that his face had been slapped.

"You keep your hands off me, Ibiki!" warned Karen, "Do you hear me? You touch me again and we'll strip off your girly clothes and have you skipping naked around the playground. From what I hear, it would be quite a site, your  penis bobbing up and down for us all to laugh at." Ibiki now had tears in his eyes. "Oh, poor baby," said Karen as she softly wiped a tear from his cheek with her thumb. "Did Auntie Karen make you cry?"


Nearly Stripped

Meanwhile, on his other side, Linda was surreptitiously working on the zipper of Ibiki's skirt. It had gone completely unnoticed by the unsuspecting Ibiki that his skirt had been zipped as far down as it would go. Karen didn't miss a beat. "All right, you can go now, Ibiki," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Their plan worked to perfection. When Ibiki stood up, the skirt instantly dropped to his ankles. Panicking, he bent over to pick it up, affording the giddy girls a marvelous view of his pantied behind. Karen reached for the back of his panties and managed to pull them down far enough to expose his buttocks, eliciting yelps of glee from the spectators and a cry of anguish from Ibiki. He reached back with one hand to pull them up while struggling with his skirt with the other. But Karen continued tugging on the panties. In serious danger of having them pulled further down and possibly completely off, Ibiki had to forego his efforts with the skirt to devote full attention to Karen's onslaught. In doing so, the skirt dropped to the ground, and as Karen pulled, Ibiki moved with her, causing him to step out of the skirt, much to the hilarity of the onlookers.

Meanwhile, Linda and Nancy swooped in to the aid of their friend Karen. Linda pulled upwards on the blouse while Nancy pulled on Ibiki's arms. "Let's strip him!" cried Linda.

Ibiki was in serious trouble. There was no way he would be able to stave off the attack much longer. "Strip him naked!" shouted an energized girl from the crowd, and when Sally and Cindy moved to join in, it seemed quite likely that they would do exactly that. Indeed, for one brief moment, Linda had the blouse pulled all the way up Ibiki's back and from behind Karen had pulled the panties down to his knees, affording Linda a fleeting glimpse of the teenager's prepubescent package and Karen a pleasurable view of his naked behind.

"No! No, please!" Ibiki cried out in distress.

Then, for the first time all day, something positive occurred for the beleaguered Ibiki. It was the classic "saved by the bell," as the loud shrill rang throughout the schoolyard. The aggressors backed off, and Ibiki quickly yanked up the panties and recovered the skirt.

"I saw it!" squealed Linda to Karen. Grinning derisively, she held out her thumb and index finger, spreading them about an inch and a half apart. Both girls laughed bawdily.

"Thanks for the sneak preview, Ibiki," Karen chortled as she walked past him while he was zipping up. "I saw your cute little butt, but it wasn't nearly enough, you little tease. I'll see you again at lunchtime."

Ibiki, unnerved, shuddered as he shuffled into the building amidst the throng of thoroughly entertained students.

Back in class, Ibiki slinked into his seat, still wearing the girls' uniform. It was time for math class, and he hoped to survive the whole period without drawing any more attention to himself. His hopefulness increased when Sister Ruth paid him no notice and said, "Pull out your math books, class, and open up to page ninety-two."

It would be ten minutes into the lesson when Sister Mary Ruth pulled her calculated move.

"Okay, you've got x=2y + 7, and you've got…Ibiki, why are you still dressed? Shouldn't you be naked?" Ibiki was at first shocked, then crestfallen. "Please come here, my little schoolgirl, so we can remedy that situation."

The interest level of the students suddenly increased exponentially.
  • Listening to: Johnny Cash - The Ballad Of Annie Palmer

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Enterran-Sago
Hyper Sago water Enterran
Artist | Student | Varied
United States
Sago is the mischievous one of the group. He is always up to something until Yakumo calmed him down. He is one of the Chosen Enterans along with Mushra and Kutal. Sago's element is water, which is why a lot of the villains in the show like to call him 'Water Boy'. He and Kutal can fuse with Mushra to create the mighty Mushrambo, who is Entera's champion. Hyper Sago is powerful, ruthless, and cunning.he gains dragon-like wings and He uses a sword for a weapon as well as his water abilities. His most powerful attack is summoning a water dragon to attack the enemy. <a

Blocking for no reason is pathetic. by The-Legend-Of-Burai
Blocking Friends Is Pathetic by Thongchan
Blocking stamp by PyroKey
Slytherin Stamp by chibi---kawaii
Trafalgar Law by Kanomaru
Up And Down by Misaki-kun1992
trafalgar law by 1121994
bonney by 1121994
Nico Robin 9 by 1121994
Boa Hancock by Kanomaru
Ace vs Akainu by Kanomaru
Los Vice-ALmirantes by koregua6000
Aokiji  "Ice Age" by koregua6000
Take this !! by SoulSylax
LB - Donate Here by Nironan12
I bite. by EvershiningHope
deviantART Points by mohammed6651

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:iconnaruto-no-dobe:
Naruto-No-Dobe Featured By Owner Dec 10, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the llama *_*
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:iconfujitoraadmiral:
FujitoraAdmiral Featured By Owner Dec 6, 2014  Hobbyist Artist
Grazie per il watch
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Student General Artist
i write  dark stories if you have a request i'll write one 
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Student General Artist
your welcome 
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:iconthecursedswordsman:
TheCursedSwordsman Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2014  Hobbyist
Thank you for the Watch :happybounce: 
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:icondarkangelxvegeta:
DarkAngelxVegeta Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
:D Cool
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Dec 3, 2014  Student General Artist
i had a crush on smoker 
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:icondarkangelxvegeta:
DarkAngelxVegeta Featured By Owner Dec 2, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for all the favourites :D
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:iconspadiekitchenqueen:
spadiekitchenqueen Featured By Owner Oct 24, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the fave!
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SakuraDreamerz2 Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2014
Thanks for the fave! ^^
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:iconandrewgeorge1991:
AndrewGeorge1991 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2014  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Happy B-day^^
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:iconshane-zero:
Shane-zero Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2014
Happy Birthday :iconkaminaplz::iconcakeplz:
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2014  Student General Artist
when ever the Internet is messed up i yell at it and i found out yelling doesn't work 
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2014  Student General Artist
your welcome
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Feb 28, 2014  Student General Artist
"Those who do not understand true pain can never understand true peace." 
coby then says what does that mean?
it means "Love breeds sacrifice... which in turn breeds hatred." so when ever there is a sacrifice then hatred is born 
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:iconbugendaiyaikari:
Bugendaiyaikari Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thnx for the llama
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:icondelaverano:
delaverano Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013  Hobbyist Photographer
THX for the watch!:D (Big Grin) 
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Sep 24, 2013  Student General Artist
rock lee: who is that guy
haku: it can't be 
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:iconsvetlanasantoryuu:
SvetlanaSantoryuu Featured By Owner Sep 7, 2013  Student General Artist
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:iconenterran-sago:
Enterran-Sago Featured By Owner Aug 1, 2013  Student General Artist
rock lee: who is that 
haku: no way that can't be 
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:iconrandommpc:
RandomMPC Featured By Owner Jul 28, 2013
(Hey! Poor pathetic me is back.... {goes into corner of shame})
Robin looked at her brother surprisedly. "He's in love with me?! Why?"

Suddenly a flash of fire shot out at the villagers and set them and their urroundings ablaze. Ace appears from the flames with his comrades behind him. "Stop hurting the boy."
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:iconandrewgeorge1991:
AndrewGeorge1991 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2013  Hobbyist Digital Artist
happy b-day^^
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:iconconkeronine:
conkeronine Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2013  Student Digital Artist
Happy Birthday
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:iconshane-zero:
Shane-zero Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2013
Happy Birthday :iconkaminaplz::iconcakeplz:
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:iconilovecary45:
ilovecary45 Featured By Owner Jul 17, 2013  Student Photographer
happpy happy birthday :D 
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