Desolate
Desolate   West Midlands, United Kingdom (Great Britain)
 
 
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2228 giorno/i dall'ultimo ban
Vetrina degli achievement più rari
Attività recente
3,2 ore in totale
Ultimo avvio: 24 giu 2024
0,7 ore in totale
Ultimo avvio: 24 giu 2024
2,8 ore in totale
Ultimo avvio: 23 giu 2024
Commenti
balmzzz 3 apr 2021, ore 15:40 
hi i saw in another thing you had downloaded the two worlds 1 mod files wioth over 70 files, do you still have it?
76561198846288590 6 mar 2021, ore 13:51 
+rep big titty, big ass
The Crocigator 10 feb 2019, ore 14:48 
+Rep Likes big American sausage, 10/10 would cosign for a loan. I'm American so if anyone has any problems with this person you can BLOW IT OUT YOUR ASS YOU TERRORIST LOVING COMMIE!!!!! :misfit: :btsilluminati: <3
Doug Duggart 27 giu 2018, ore 14:01 
yo. is it you. Can it really be... Flip flop ? is it......... Flippy?
LittleFlame 28 apr 2018, ore 11:07 
Your friend has already died, you're new to this, not very confident. but Jezzica's gone on ahead to fight the opponent. You like him, you've bonded quickly, you hear the shot and Jezzica's unconcious. they're still alive but not for long. you hear him speak "You got lucky, very lucky" as you push up the stairs yourself with your M4. But he was waiting for you. You give it your all as you feel his every round piercing you, while you're firing into him. your legs are screwed, and it's hard to breathe. As you see him fall to the ground, you drop to your knees and let out a battle cry. "You are Dead."
Desolate 15 apr 2018, ore 16:51 
Lyrics to my favourite Song, Termination Bliss by Deathstars.

Here she comes down, as her wings get nailed to the ground
A polaroid of shame
The last angel's pathetic fame
The face of deceit with nails in her feet
She's a preacher deprived from her voice
A punctured lung is creating noise
The cry that she made was the cry of a dying child
The revocation of empathy
The sound from a million dreams and scars
Termination Bliss
Blessed under a lie, Her last little weak "why?"
The bloody end of a dream
Slit the throat and taste the cream
She wears her crown on a head that's bowed deep down
A dying picture of lies
A tortured saint fed to the flies.