Creamy ebony riding BBC creampie girlfriends wet pussy Thumb n ass doggy PURE TABOO MILF Cherie DeVille Fantasizes About A Big Cock In Quarantine Gay punheta gostosa Admirable babe gets her hot ass oiled up and juicy cunt fingered Redhead teen sucking bbc Girl on gyno chair get orgasm Hot wife with big black cock cuckold Her Limit - Tight Blonde Cherry Kiss Gets Rough Deepthroat, Anal & Fisting Handsome teen model

Based on the lyrics of that song that I love, 80s rock band, lead singer died young in a car crash.

***

It has always been like this, for

As long as time exists and people

Can remember,

Fate chooses to love more the ones

Who live by entirely different laws

And who are destined to die young.

They aren't aware of the "yes" and the "no", they have no notion of ranks,

Or rules,

Or regulations.

Fate chooses to love them more,

The ones who disobey.

Who outdare life.

They seem to know things the rest of us don't.

They aren't given much time.

But they are the ones

Who can reach for the stars, believing that it is not a dream,

Knowing that it is real.

They shine so blindingly bright

And fall,

Scorched by the brightest star there is.

The Sun.

Might be, fate loves them so fiercely, it wants to keep them to itself, in their blazing youth, and not share with anyone else.

Amazing gifs by the amazing @suledins 💖

Billy core.

If you won’t use someone’s pronouns because they’re “made up”, I’d better not ever hear you use the words:

Academe, accessible, accommodation, addiction, admirable, aerial, airless, amazement, anchovy, arch-villain, auspicious, bachelorship, barefaced, baseless, batty, beachy, bedroom, belongings, birthplace, black-faced (ok maybe don't use that one anyway), bloodstained, bloodsucking, blusterer, bodikins, braggartism, brisky, broomstaff, budger, bump, buzzer, candle holder, catlike, characterless, cheap, chimney-top, chopped, churchlike, circumstantial, clangor, cold-blooded, coldhearted, compact, consanguineous, control, coppernose, countless, courtship, critical, cruelhearted, dalmation, dauntless, dawn, day's work, deaths-head, defeat, depositary, dewdrop, dexterously, disgraceful, distasteful, distrustful, dog-weary, doit, domineering, downstairs, dwindle, East Indies, embrace, employer, employment, enfranchisement, engagement, enrapt, epileptic, equivocal, eventful, excitement, expedience, expertness, exposure, eyedrop, eyewink, fair-faced, fanged, fap, far-off, farmhouse, fashionable, fashionmonger, fat-witted, fathomless, featureless, fiendlike, fitful, fixture, fleshment, flirt-gill, flowery, fly-bitten, footfall, foppish, foregone, fortune-teller, foul mouthed, Franciscan, freezing, fretful, full-grown, fullhearted, futurity, gallantry, garden house, generous, gentlefolk, glow, go-between, grass plot, gravel-blind, grey-eyed, grief-shot, grime, gust, half-blooded, heartsore, hedge-pig, hell-born, hint, hobnail, homely, honey-tongued, hornbook, hostile, hot-blooded, howl, hunchbacked, hurly, idle-headed, ill-tempered, ill-used, impartial, imploratory, import, in question, inauspicious, indirection, indisinguishable, inducement, informal, inventorially, investment, invitation, invulnerable, jaded, juiced, keech, kickie-wickie, kitchen-wench, lackluster, ladybird, lament, land-rat, laughable, leaky, leapfrog, lewdster, loggerhead, lonely, long-legged, love letter, lustihood, lustrous, madcap, madwoman, majestic, malignancy, manager, marketable, marriage bed, militarist, mimic, misgiving, misquote, mockable, money's worth, monumental, moonbeam, mortifying, motionless, mountaineer, multitudinous, neglect, never-ending, newsmonger, nimble-footed, noiseless, nook-shotten, obscene, ode, offenseful, offenseless, Olympian, on purpose, oppugnancy, outbreak, overblown, overcredulous, overgrowth, overview, pageantry, pale-faced, passado, paternal, pebbled, pedant, pedantical, pendulous, pignut, pious, please-man, plumpy, posture, prayerbook, priceless, profitless, Promethean, protester, published, puking, puppy-dog, pushpin, quarrelsome, radiance, rascally, rawboned, reclusive, refractory, reinforcement, reliance, remorseless, reprieve, resolve, restoration, restraint, retirement, revokement, revolting, ring carrier, roadway, roguery, rose-cheeked, rose-lipped, rumination, ruttish, sanctimonious, satisfying, savage, savagery, schoolboy, scrimer, scrubbed, scuffle, seamy, self-abuse, shipwrecked, shooting star, shudder, silk stocking, silliness, skim milk, skimble-skamble, slugabed, soft-hearted, spilth, spleenful, sportive, stealthy, stillborn, successful, suffocating, tanling, tardiness, time-honored, title page, to arouse, to barber, to bedabble, to belly, to besmirch, to bet, to bethump, to blanket, to cake, to canopy, to castigate, to cater, to champion, to comply, to compromise, to cow, to cudgel, to dapple, to denote, to dishearten, to dislocate, to educate, to elbow, to enmesh, to enthrone, to fishify, to glutton, to gnarl, to gossip, to grovel, to happy, to hinge, to inhearse, to inlay, to instate, to lapse, to muddy, to negotiate, to numb, to offcap, to operate, to out-Herod, to out-talk, to out-villain, to outdare, to outfrown, to outscold, to outsell, to outweigh, to overpay, to overpower, to overrate, to palate, to pander, to perplex, to petition, to rant, to reverb, to reword, to rival, to sate, to secure, to sire, to sneak, to squabble, to subcontract, to sully, to supervise, to swagger, to torture, to un muzzle, to unbosom, to uncurl, to undervalue, to undress, to unfool, to unhappy, to unsex, to widen, tortive, traditional, tranquil, transcendence, trippingly, unaccommodated, unappeased, unchanging, unclaimed, unearthy, uneducated, unfrequented, ungoverned, ungrown, unhelpful, unhidden, unlicensed, unmitigated, unmusical, unpolluted, unpublished, unquestionable, unreal, unrivaled, unscarred, unscratched, unsolicited, unsullied, unswayed, untutored, unvarnished, unwillingness, upstairs, useful, useless, valueless, varied, varletry, vasty, vulnerable, watchdog, water drop, water fly, well-behaved, well-bred, well-educated, well-read, wittoly, worn out, wry-necked, yelping, or zany.

Why? Because they were made up! “Oh, but that’s different, it was Shakespeare!” So?? Just because he’s famous and dead doesn’t mean he has any more right to make up words than anyone else.

And if you want to go even further, language as a whole is made up. You think we found these words hanging out in the wild? No! Every single word is made up. So if you truly have a problem with neopronouns because they’re “made up”, I want you to stop talking. Right now. No more words out of your mouth, or flowing from your pen, or typed on your keyboard ever again. If you can’t accept some words just because they’re new, you don’t have language privileges any more. Good luck trying to communicate.

相合傘

@taioraweek 2021 // [day 5] romantic date aiai-gasa means to share one umbrella among two persons. in an anime/manga, you might see someone in love doodling a simple umbrella before scribbling their names with their crush like this. that's aiai-gasa. wrote this down after become a little bit too infatuated with that famous taiora thunderstorm/raindrop quote. @dutchforstrangers said she wanted to read this, so i gave it a go. the autumn theme is of course inspired by @noctisfishing ;)

i.

girlfriend: Should we just stay inside? The forecast says it’s going to rain today.

boyfriend: It won’t.

girlfriend: …how do you know?

boyfriend: Because I bring sunshine wherever I go.

.

.

ii.

Sora had known Taichi for too long to be able to tell which was a strong premonition of his and which was just a mere joke stemmed out of his laziness. It was obvious he found carrying an umbrella was a hassle, especially when the sun was still hanging as he picked her in front of her apartment. However, Sora was always willing to take the precaution, even though that also meant she had to hold the umbrella for their whole walking date.

The forecast was right: it did rain some time later.

When Taichi got the first few drops on the tip of his nose, Sora couldn’t help but laugh triumphantly—a replacement for the ‘I told you so’ she wanted to say so bad. She proceeded to open her umbrella, somewhat relieved that she picked the old, big umbrella instead of the small, folded one because it wouldn’t be able to cover them both. Taichi had the figure of a typical jock, after all.

“This is not something I had imagined for a romantic autumn stroll,” Taichi complained grumpily, scooting Sora closer to him so both of them wouldn’t get splashed.

“Well, on the contrary, I think there’s something about the rain that gives a bit of romantic vibe,” Sora argued.

“Geez. Please tell me you’re not that kind of girl who’s dreaming of a kiss under the rain like Spider-Man and Mary Jane.”

“I know you act like a monkey sometimes, but I can’t imagine you’re willing to turn yourself upside down just for a kiss,” Sora giggled. “Also, doing such thing when you’re soaking wet seems… weird.”

Taichi then pursed his lips, taking a moment of silence to think. “The only romantic thing I can associate with the rain is aiai-gasa—which is kinda funny considering our situation right now.” He glanced momentarily at the umbrella above before looking back at her with a smirk. “I bet you did one with our names together in the back of your notebook when we were still in school, right?”

Wanting to wipe that cocky smile from his face, Sora pushed Taichi far enough to get his right shoe drenched. “I did not!”

It was true; she really didn’t.

(She made one in the middle of the book instead so that it would go unnoticed among her notes.)

.

.

iii.

On the spur of the moment, the downpour turned way too heavy for her umbrella to take. They had no choice but to step aside and take shelter under a canopy right in front of a currently closed shop. Taichi pulled out the jacket he was wearing; its right sleeve was soaked, so he wrung it out before wrapping the jacket to his waist.

“I still don’t know why you love thunderstorms,” he then said with his arms folded, brows furrowed towards the dark grey clouds as if he was outdaring the sky. “There is nothing lovely about this kind of weather.”

A loud thunder roared back at his impolite remark.

“I guess you misunderstood me,” Sora said, folding her half-dried umbrella back. “I said I love thunderstorms, but I didn’t mean the chaotic kind of them.” She once got her laundry swept away during a gale, although it was part of her mistake since she forgot to take them inside.

“There’s a word for it, you know?” she continued. “Chrysalism. It means the tranquillity and peace that you feel when you’re indoors during a thunderstorm.”

“Okay, that is not a penchant to the thunderstorm,” Taichi protested. “You just love to have an excuse to stay inside your room and curl up in your blanket.”

“Hey, what can I say? I’m a homebody at the end of the day.”

“That’s why I want to ask you out today. You need to absorb some of the colours from the fallen leaves. Don’t you realise your skin is getting pale for being glued to your work desk way too long?” Taichi huffed. “What are you—a vampire?”

“Then thank God the sky was dark today, right? Or else my skin is going to turn diamond-like and we’ll make a headline tomorrow.” It was her turn to make a reference out of a movie, and Taichi rolled his eyes because she had to go with Twilight of all movies she could choose. Sora then brought herself closer to Taichi, circling her arms around him for a cuddle.

“There’s always a next time,” she tried to cheer him up. “We still have a month before winter. I promise you we’ll go out whether it’s hail, rain, or sunshine. But please, please bring your own umbrella. Better safe than sorry, no?”

Taichi sighed in defeat. For the second time today, Sora gave him a jubilant smile. As a consolation prize, she decided to hover for a kiss—a far more practical way rather than doing it upside down, in addition without being able to see the face of the person you were kissing. She then rested her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that rhymes with the pitter-patter of the rain.

“You’re as warm as my blanket,” Sora closed her eyes sedately.

Taichi stroked her head with a tiny smile on his lips. “I told you I bring sunshine wherever I go.”

.

.

iv.

As the thunder became faint and the rain got a bit gentle, Sora released herself from his warmth. “Shall we just go to my apartment before we’re straying too far?”

“I don’t think we can hang out so casually with your parents around—”

“Who said my parents are home?”

Taichi was lost for words at once. Sora’s smile finally turned into a smirk that was contagious enough to make him follow suit.

Recently, DropWave created a new collection called Street. ⠀ Boards are designed for city ride, a distinctive feature is the outdare design, the atmosphere of which I tried to convey in this video.

Wild - III

Plot: The story follows Morana, a meditarranean girl brought to Kattegat by Bjorn, right before the war. She’s not just any girl though, she’s a princess with a secret she’s desperate to keep unrevealed, and with a great need for a fresh start and a place to call home. She wants it to be Kattegat, but will it be?

Follow her, and those around her, into a series of heartbreaks.

Pairing: None really, but Ivar and Morana are getting closer

Word count: 1880

You can read Part I here, and Part II here.

She felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of her head, as she opened her eyes. Assuming it was the thrall, she didn't pay it any attention. The sun was high up, and she figured it was close to midday. 

“I hope you managed to get some rest, princess Morana, for there are things we should discuss.”

She felt a sudden rush of heat hit her face at the sound of his voice. No matter how annoying she found him to be, she was still impressed by the fact that he, being the youngest of four brothers, somehow managed to make himself a king. She needed to find her place in the world, and she wanted her place to be here. Going back home was not an option, and it was not something she would wish for anyway. She was not wanted back there. So, she needed him to like her. But still, he was not a very good company. Not for her. They were to similar, and that might cost her, if she doesn't learn to control herself.

She turned to face him, realizing how close he sat. He was on the floor, right next to her bed. It was just then that she noticed the crutches leaned on the wall next to him. Right, they always talked of him as the cripple. She once asked a slave what the word meant, but the answer confused her, for she never met a person with his condition. Now she realized what the thrall meant by his legs not working. Somehow, she managed to forget that piece of information earlier, not giving it much importance. She shook it off, and focused her eyes on him.

“About?”

His eyes were studying her gentle frame, finally finding their rest on her eyes. The night before, he was convinced her eyes were gray, the color of the clouds that come bearing storms. But now they were green, like the green waters of the lake, or the grass in early spring. Their glances were stuck at each other.

“I want to know where you're from. You're different somehow, and I intend to know how.”

A silent sigh escaped her, a relief. He was intrigued, not furious. Maybe she did play her cards just right, and maybe for once, her mouth and her attitude failed to cause her doom. He was unpredictable, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good thing in general, but it did show as a good thing at this moment.

“I told you, your brother Bjorn brought me here. I was given to him by my father.” She answered, anger evident in her tone.

“You have a lot to resent to your father, but he's still your father. And I do not want to talk about your family issues. So, you're from Mediterranean?”

She was slightly taken aback by his words, she didn't quite expect this from a man who was at war with his own brothers, but for once, she decided not to comment. And he was rude, but she still managed to control her tongue.

“Yes, I am.”

“And you are no Christian?”

He was evidently interested in gods and religious things, as was she.

“No, I am not. I think they are ridiculous, in fact. Virgins giving birth and all. I think that my gods and your gods are very alike, king Ivar.”

He stared at her, not sure whether this was a good thing or some sort of blasphemy. But he was eager to know more of her Gods, as this woman seemed to possess some kind of magic, for she had him tied to her words.

“Okay, tell me about your gods then, princess Morana.”

She smiled, pleased by his curiosity.

“Well, what do you want to know, my king?”

“I know nothing, so anything’s good.”

“Khm…” She paused, thinking where to start, and then continued. “Then I’ll start with a God that you remind me of, king Ivar. His name is Perun. Perun is the god of thunder and lightning, fire and drought… He rules over our world, the world of the living, from his fortress in the clouds, on top of the World Tree.”

”He seems like a good god, why would he remind you of me?” Ivar asked, leaning closer, a smirk on his face. “It seems you’re a little misled by who I’m supposed to be…”

Morana chuckled, her shoulders shaking slightly. She shook her head in disagreement, thinking back to all the things she heard about him, and then she continued. “I don’t think I am. You see, king Ivar, Perun is also the god of war and weaponry. He is the one that warriors call upon. The warrior god. Veles is his enemy - the god of livestock, shepherds and farmers. Just like your brother Ubbe is your enemy right now.” She paused, her eyes wandering at his, cautiously scrutinizing him and his reactions, looking for any sign of disapproval. She did not want to insult or anger him. He smiled weakly, nodding for her to continue. “The fight between Perun and Veles lasts since forever, they keep trying to outsmart each other, Perun usually wins, sending Veles back to the underground, but Veles always comes back, wanting to outdare Perun.” She paused and smiled, noticing how carefully he listened to her.

“Go on...” He encouraged her.

“Perun has a wife, his wife is Sunce, The Sun. The Sun has a mother and little sister, Zora (Dawn) and Danica (The North Star). Zora is The Sun’s mother, she visits our world in the early mornings, at dawn, and gives birth to her daughter, The Sun, blessing the world of the living with its light. Danica is The Sun’s younger sister, she is in fact the brightest star on the night’s sky. Those were the names of my sisters too…both very bubbly and happy…”

He listened cautiously, admiring the way she spoke of her gods. There was passion and commitment in her soft voice, making him think of Floki and his tales. She saw him smile at her.

“Are you named after a goddess too?”

Her eyes locked to the floor, avoiding his gaze. Her expression changed, and she nodded.

“Tell me…” He whispered, lifting her chin up with his hand. She loved and worshiped the goddess she was named after, but the people around her never did. They feared her.

“I was named after Morana, the Sun’s daughter. The goddess of winter and death,” She paused, taking a deep breath, “I came to life by causing death. My mother died giving birth to me, and I…my people fear Morana, so everyone feared me. My father sent me to live with an old lady Mara in the woods. She became my mother and my father. Taught me everything I know of the gods and the world. When she died, I was all alone. Until they came for me and gave me to your brother.”

He could see how hard she tried to keep her tears from falling, and he put his hand on the piece of her skin that shyly escaped the furs in an attempt to comfort her. He knew now what it was that kept drawing him to her - they were both the children that should have died. The rejected ones, the belittled ones, feared or mocked. Those who were supposed to die, but gods decided in their favor, they made them strong, and the same gods now brought them together. It had to mean something. She blinked the tears away, and fixed her eyes on him, smiling.

“Anything else you wanna know?”

“Well, yes. I want to know more about Morana, she does seem like an interesting goddess. But right now, you should get dressed and go eat something.”

He turned to the wall, reaching for his crutches, and holding onto her bed to get up.

“What's your story, king Ivar the Boneless? Why do you fight your brothers?”

 “I didn't fight my brothers. I fought the murderer of my mother. My brothers chose to fight by her side.”

 She grew silent, thinking back of her acquired knowledge of this entire situation. Lagertha was the mother of Bjorn, but Ivar, Hvitserk, and Ubbe – the brother that sided with Lagertha, they were the sons of Queen Aslaug, the second wife of Ragnar Lothbrok. The name Sigurd was also often mentioned, but she did not know who Sigurd was. It was perfectly understandable to her that Bjorn would hold the side of his mother in this war, but Ubbe was a mystery. Why would he choose the woman who killed his mother, rather than his own two brothers?

“I am sorry. For the death of your mother. I heard it was Lagertha who killed her.”

He nodded, his eyes instantly filling with rage. She saw a spark lightning up, as he spoke of her.

“She escaped. But I will catch her, I will. And I will kill her. Slowly and painfully. I will make it a show, for everyone to watch.”

Morana was studying his face as he spoke, it was dark and ominous, no wonder everyone feared him. And yet again, he reminded her of Perun, the fierce and fearless one, riding in his chariot, weaving his mighty axe.

 He was fascinating, probably the most fascinating man she ever met, of his brothers, most definitely the most interesting and intense one. Soon, she caught herself aiming high, falling for the very king of Kattegat.

  It soon became a little ritual of theirs, these early morning talks. She complained the first few days, a little uncomfortable with Ivar seeing her in her nightgown, hair disheveled and eyes still cloudy, but as soon she became comfortable enough around him, she just didn’t care.

And he thought she was beautiful. She was always beautiful, with her lips painted red, and her braided hair carefully curled up into a bun on top of her head, flowers in her hair, those eyes being the color of fresh green grass. But in the early morning light, when she would first blink, her eyes still adjusting to light, they were golden. Her wavy hair would fall down her back, shimmering in shades of chestnut and orange as the rays of light would fall on it. Her bones would crackle as she stretched, a smile on her face at the sight of him sitting next to her bed.  The golden glow of her eyes would fade then, when she would fix her gaze on him, smiling sleepily and wishing him a good morning in her native language.

 But the closer she got to him, the further he’d escape. And soon she felt the distance growing between them, his walls build up high, and though Morana tried to break through, her thin patience not exactly helping her intention of knowing and understanding his troubled personality, anger and intimacy issues evident every time she would try to get near in a moment he would find unfitting. But he would still come back, and she would still welcome him. What he didn’t count on was that she, though still trying to get through, would also search comfort and tenderness somewhere else. He didn’t count on a possibility of actually losing her, while he was pushing her away.

Taglist: @cris101071 @naaladareia

Illustration I made for my art school portfolio in 2019 (i did not get into the Animation Workshop)

“Why would an incredulous Jew want to write, Rozitchner himself asks, about the Confessions of a Christian saint? Among the various answers, the most audacious one – certainly outdaring Max Weber’s hypothesis about the ideological affinity between capitalism and Protestantism – holds that capitalism simply would not have been possible without Christianity: ‘Triumphant capitalism, the quantitative and infinite accumulation of wealth in the abstract monetary form, would not have been possible without the human model of religious infinity promoted by Christianity, without the imaginary and symbolical reorganization operated in subjectivity by the new religion of the Roman Empire.’ Augustine is the model of these profound transformations in the psychic economy. His Confessions, Rozitchner proposes, can be read as a user’s manual for subjection and servitude. The complete devalorization of the flesh, of pleasure, and of the social in general, together with the newly constituted subject’s submission to the rule of law and imperial order, constitute the lasting religious premisses of the political sphere.”

Bruno Bosteels, León Rozitchner: Politics and subjectivity, head-to-head

whom bein outdare unfollowin me again

#31Hari Menulis. The Beginning

I've been challenging myself so far. In this middle of the pandemic, once again I challenged myself. To engage in this activity called #31HariMenulis or you called it #31DaysofWriting. For me, I've done this before. Twice. But again, there's no one read my previous posts before. Unlike this one, real heaps of people might read my post.

What disrupted me the most about joining this movement was: What am I going to write about? I had this guideline for the topic several years ago when I did it myself. But this time, since it's a real deal, I want to outdare (and make it harder) for myself. I am going to let whatever ideas come to my mind and try to deliver it with words.

I remember the time I knew about this #31HariMenulis when I was still in college. This movement also inspired me to did my own #31DaysofWriting a few years ago. I felt like I wanted to join this movement back then since I love writing. But something was impeding me. It was myself. I saw myself as no one. This shallow self-esteem dragged me to the place where I didn't dare to speak up. This train of "What If" departed from my brain and but never left. The "What If" stayed until 9 years later.

A lot of things happened in 9 years. I didn't see myself as this timid kitten who afraid of the world. I met and spoke to a lot of people. I moved to an island with a high rate of diversity where it allows me to absorb as many as a cultural shock that I wanted. I saw beautiful things in people and nature every day. I am beholden and I am delighted that I here now.

At last, we're just human. We're the same. My words might be tedious for some people, but yet I didn't try to win anything. This time, I want to prove 9-years-ago self, that I am good enough to join any challenge that I want.

So this is the beginning of my next #31DaysofWriting or #31HariMenulis.

Welcome.

[MTSALAK - EARTHQUAKE] Do we really have to run the course? Do we really have to climb that mountain? Do we really have to deep dive into that forest? At midnight, that thick mist tho? Or lets just stay at bed? Or how? What i thought during pra-race, i bet these guys thought same too. Hahaha. Arriving race central around 2 afternoon, we prepared everything before 12AM-flag-off. All of sudden, earthquake happened. Around 8PM. One time, forget how much ritcher scale it was. That strong, it was shocking. Okay, calm down, everything is ok. Then it happened again, the second. The third. No other option, unless keep calm down, and pray. Was it? Okay, it was outdaring, the challenge. It was Mount Salak we were about to go, and race still went on. So here we came after battling with mind, the survivors. The finishers. Congratulations! @30haribercerita @goatrun.id #travel2share #30haribercerita #30HBC2004 #trailrunning #exploremore #voyagediaries #goodvibes #mountsalak #runningbuddies (at Halimun Salak Mountain National Park) https://www.instagram.com/p/B65WSlJh2sI/?igshid=z8g3ck1oq0ge

After 2000 years it still outdares the history and tourists. #colosseum #roma🇮🇹 #italiadascoprire #new_photoitaly #neverstopexploring #ig_italia #lazio_photogroup #roma_photogroup #roma_in_grande #architecture_lovers #laziogram #art_daily #architecture_view #vistiamo_lazio #architecture #lacittàeterna #architecture_hunter #disc #visititalia #architecture #italiabella #architecturelovers #archidaily #arches #history #details #stone #street #piazza #romadascoprire (na lokaciji Colosseo) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5jMGsWJ3Ac/?igshid=kcvg9qged1aa

To all you sweet dudes still following this account: unless someone can tell me how to delete my queue instantly I'm going to be evacuating this fucker. Theres probably a lot of outdared posts so please bare with me.

Give me silence and I will outdare the night.

Khalil Gibran, Sand and Foam