l'entourage d'Ashlee

Sujet: l'entourage d'Ashlee 11.04.24 19:28

Ashlee Emerson

Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour ... If at my convenience I might break them, what would be their worth?

28

australienne

hétéro

célibataire

photographe

quokka

Ashlee c'est une femme pétillante, elle est plutôt cool et pas trop chiante. Elle prend la vie comme elle vient avec légèreté. Elle peut être piquante avec des gens qu'elle n'aime pas. Elle n'ira pas jusqu'au conflit mais elle sait les remettre en place gentiment. Ashlee est une une jeune femme qui n'est pas très sûre d'elle, elle se remet souvent en question et n'a pas forcément toujours confiance et foi en elle. Cela peut la bloquer dans certaine situations stressantes notamment. Elle a toujours une pierre avec pour l'aider à avoir plus confiance en elle et elle fait également des séances d'hypnose pour avancer avec cela. Aujourd'hui il y a eu des améliorations mais c'est encore à travailler.

code par harley- - gif par Tumblr - code par harley- - gif par Tumblr - code par harley-

Sujet: Re: l'entourage d'Ashlee 11.04.24 19:30

Jessy Emerson

Jumelle

les deux sont jumelles, elles sont donc très fusionnelles et partagent absolument tout ensemble sauf leur petit ami of course Ma jumelle adorée 1159003589 Ma jumelle adorée 1465141380 Elles trainent tout le temps ensemble. Si elles ne se voient pas ou ne se parlent pas pendant une semaine, c'est limite la dépression pour elles.

Emy Parker

meilleure amie

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

Code:: <center><div style="background-color:#ffffff;width:400px;height:150px;border:1px #D47FB9 dotted;"><img src="http://65.media.tumblr.com/b7754dbabb9211768516b144474b41c4/tumblr_np4nvusiTG1rs51bfo3_250.gif" style="width:150px;opacity:0.6;padding:8px;background:url();position:relative;left:-105px;top:10px;"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant SC', serif;font-size:12px;color:#D47FB9;letter-spacing:3px;position:relative;top:20px;left:-105px;text-transform:uppercase;">PRENOM P2. NOM</div><div style="font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:silver;text-transform:uppercase;position:relative;top:15px;left:-105px;letter-spacing:3px;">intitulé du lien.</div><div style="background-color:#efefef;width:200px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;position:relative;top:-113px;left:90px;"><div style="background-color:#dddddd;width:190px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;color:#666666;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;line-height:10px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;opacity:0.7;">“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?” </div></div></div></center>

<center><div style="background-color:#ffffff;width:400px;height:150px;border:1px #D47FB9 dotted;"><img src="http://65.media.tumblr.com/b7754dbabb9211768516b144474b41c4/tumblr_np4nvusiTG1rs51bfo3_250.gif" style="width:150px;opacity:0.6;padding:8px;background:url();position:relative;left:-105px;top:10px;"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant SC', serif;font-size:12px;color:#D47FB9;letter-spacing:3px;position:relative;top:20px;left:-105px;text-transform:uppercase;">PRENOM P2. NOM</div><div style="font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:silver;text-transform:uppercase;position:relative;top:15px;left:-105px;letter-spacing:3px;">intitulé du lien.</div><div style="background-color:#efefef;width:200px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;position:relative;top:-113px;left:90px;"><div style="background-color:#dddddd;width:190px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;color:#666666;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;line-height:10px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;opacity:0.7;">“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?” </div></div></div></center>

Sujet: Re: l'entourage d'Ashlee 11.04.24 19:30

Cameron Davis

meilleur ami, feelings.

Ashlee et lui sont meilleurs amis depuis toujours. Leurs maisons étaient même voisines, ils se voyaient donc tout le temps. Ils ont toujours parlé facilement de tout, ça a toujours été fluide entre eux. Il y a quelques mois ils ont finit par couché ensemble car ils en avaient envie depuis un moment mais ne se sont jamais lâché. Ils ne sont pas ensemble pour autant (pas encore) une chose est sure c'est qu'Ashlee a des sentiments pour lui mais elle préfère ne pas lui en parler car elle aurait peur qu'il fuit

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

PRENOM P2. NOM

intitulé du lien.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?”

Code:: <center><div style="background-color:#ffffff;width:400px;height:150px;border:1px #D47FB9 dotted;"><img src="http://65.media.tumblr.com/b7754dbabb9211768516b144474b41c4/tumblr_np4nvusiTG1rs51bfo3_250.gif" style="width:150px;opacity:0.6;padding:8px;background:url();position:relative;left:-105px;top:10px;"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant SC', serif;font-size:12px;color:#D47FB9;letter-spacing:3px;position:relative;top:20px;left:-105px;text-transform:uppercase;">PRENOM P2. NOM</div><div style="font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:silver;text-transform:uppercase;position:relative;top:15px;left:-105px;letter-spacing:3px;">intitulé du lien.</div><div style="background-color:#efefef;width:200px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;position:relative;top:-113px;left:90px;"><div style="background-color:#dddddd;width:190px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;color:#666666;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;line-height:10px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;opacity:0.7;">“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?” </div></div></div></center>

<center><div style="background-color:#ffffff;width:400px;height:150px;border:1px #D47FB9 dotted;"><img src="http://65.media.tumblr.com/b7754dbabb9211768516b144474b41c4/tumblr_np4nvusiTG1rs51bfo3_250.gif" style="width:150px;opacity:0.6;padding:8px;background:url();position:relative;left:-105px;top:10px;"><div style="font-family: 'Cormorant SC', serif;font-size:12px;color:#D47FB9;letter-spacing:3px;position:relative;top:20px;left:-105px;text-transform:uppercase;">PRENOM P2. NOM</div><div style="font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;color:silver;text-transform:uppercase;position:relative;top:15px;left:-105px;letter-spacing:3px;">intitulé du lien.</div><div style="background-color:#efefef;width:200px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;position:relative;top:-113px;left:90px;"><div style="background-color:#dddddd;width:190px;height:130px;overflow-y:auto;color:#666666;font-family:verdana;font-size:10px;line-height:10px;text-transform:uppercase;text-align:justify;opacity:0.7;">“You’ve got to be kidding me,” the bouncer said, folding his arms across his massive chest. He stared down at the boy in the red zip-up jacket and shook his shaved head. “You can’t bring that thing in here.” The fifty or so teenagers in line outside the Pandemonium Club leaned forward to eavesdrop. It was a long wait to get into the all-ages club, especially on a Sunday, and not much generally happened in line. The bouncers were fierce and would come down instantly on anyone who looked like they were going to start trouble. Fifteen-year-old Clary Fray, standing in line with her best friend, Simon, leaned forward along with everyone else, hoping for some excitement. “Aw, come on.” The kid hoisted the thing up over his head. It looked like a wooden beam, pointed at one end. “It’s part of my costume.” The bouncer raised an eyebrow. “Which is what?” The boy grinned. He was normal-enough-looking, Clary thought, for Pandemonium. He had electric blue dyed hair that stuck up around his head like the tendrils of a startled octopus, but no elaborate facial tattoos or big metal bars through his ears or lips. “I’m a vampire slayer.” He pushed down on the wooden thing. It bent as easily as a blade of grass bending sideways. “It’s fake. Foam rubber. See?” </div></div></div></center>

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