《euphoria // c.b》viii. look don't touch
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ADDED TO THEIR SNAPCHAT STORY
🥵🥵
HARLEY QUINN 😈, EBENEEZER
SCROOGE 🤠, AVA BABYY 🤪💖,
THE REAL JADA SMITH!,
AND MATTY B RAPS 🎤🥴✨
🤠
@harlow where tf r u
😈
when mom is concerned for u
heart eyes
🎤🥴✨
don't tell me
it isn't possible
do you have other friends???
😈
i know
it's a shock 2 me too
🤠
i am shocked and confused
🤪💖
.......
why do i feel like ava knows
something
🤪💖
.......
😈
.......
🎤🥴✨
i stg if u don't spill the beans
🤪💖
harlequin is trying to get dicked down !!!!!
🤠
this is news
😈
get after it baby!! hell fucking yes!!!
🎤🥴✨
i mean she ain't denying it soo.....
😈
i'm not trying to get dicked down
y'all need to calm tf down
there's just a cute boy here
nbd
casual
🤠
omfg wait
don't tell me
is this the same guy from last week
🤪💖
.........
😈
.........
o wait
ur brother's friend
😈
yes so exactly
c a s u a l
he's just fucking good looking ok
🎤🥴✨
look don't touch
but if u do touch maybe don't tell elton
😈
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Times historic are often penned after the fact in the lifeblood of the pitiful, forgotten masses. That roiling, uncountable crush of humanity, they who held the pikes and they who threw down the tyrants. Their veins opened by gazes academic, sharp and cruel, and pecked away at with quills, written out of their own story. The Second Dark Crusade was a time of such poignancy. A time when the light of man waned and flickered, choking in the acrid smoke of its own inadequacy. As befitting of such an age it has been covered more than a capital whore, and so I attempt not to tell that story again. That story of dull, unfeeling analysis. Neither here will you find the browbeating, propagandistic screeds so common in the hands of men, the light of youth still burning behind their eyes. Nay, here I shall attempt to cover fresh ground, not tread on the grave dirt of long dead authors. Here I shall attempt to tell the story of the small lives caught, unbeknownst to them, in the great and torrential downpour that we now call history. Here lies the true story of The Second Crusade. - Loremaster Ip'Qal
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The WereLionesses Mate
She was running out of breath, but that didn't matter, all that mattered was getting away from him and proving him wrong. Branches scraped her face and her arms, her body burning hot; but cold from her sweat as the wind blew over her skin. Her pants soaked from running through the streams, her shirt ripped to shreds around her stomach from very low hanging branches. Her hair, a tumbling fiery mess of tangles, and waves slipping through the ponytail she had quickly fastened trying to tame her wild hair. Running and crawling on the ground through the forest floor, trying to get back to the camp grounds so Whhooossshhhh! All of a sudden a giant gust of wind flew past her nearly lifting her off the ground and throwing her into a tree. Where in the world did that wind come from? She thought, but she kept running like it had never happened. She jumped over a fallen log, ignoring the fact that she almost fell in the process. She zoomed past all the trees and sprinted over the roots coming out of the ground. She rounded another tree coming to a sudden halt at seeing him standing there with a drink in his hand laughing and joking. She stood there wondering how in the world he could have beaten her here; He looked at her then, He looked, well, handsome, his faced was clean shaven and his button up shirt was all unbuttoned minus the three at the bottom. She could still visibly see his bronze chest and the top of his ripped-hard abs. He walked over to her and smiled, showing all of his teeth, the smile reaching his eyes. His eyes were dark and stormy, their color was usually a nice honey brown but now his eyes looked mid-night black. They looked like they could kill a man at eighty paces, but could sweep a woman off her feet at the same time.
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