This is the place where you can personalize your profile!
But, how?
By moving, adding and personalizing widgets.
You can drag and and drop to rearrange.
You can edit widgets to customize them.
The left side has widgets you can add!
Some widgets you can only access when you get a subscription.
Some widgets have options that are only available when you get a subscription.
We've split the page into zones!
Certain widgets can only be added to certain zones.
"Why," you ask? Because we want profile pages to have freedom of customization, but also to have some consistency. This way, when anyone visits a deviant, they know they can always find the art in the top left, and personal info in the top right.
Don't forget, restraints can bring out the creativity in you!
Now go forth and astound us all with your devious profiles!
As soon as Fred gets out of bed,
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.
At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.
--
Truth be told,
I'd rather be sold
than juggle stepping stones.
--
Truth be told,
I'd rather be sold
than juggle stepping stones.
I really enjoyed reading your work, and it has inspired many, myself included.
--
Truth be told,
I'd rather be sold
than juggle stepping stones.
How'ere things, mate?
Cheerio,
-kktour
--
<Spiff-Johnson> Miguel wouldn't high five anyone in real life.
<Spiff-Johnson> He would just tighten his scarf and look at you with contempt.
--
<Spiff-Johnson> Miguel wouldn't high five anyone in real life.
<Spiff-Johnson> He would just tighten his scarf and look at you with contempt.
his underwear goes on his head.
His mother laughs, "Don't put it there,
a head's no place for underwear!"
But near his ears, above his brains,
is where Fred's underwear remains.
At night when Fred goes back to bed,
he deftly plucks it off his head.
His mother switches off the light
and softly croons, "Good night! Good night!"
And then, for reasons no one knows,
Fred's underwear goes on his toes.
--
The fiery windowsills of a setting sun.
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