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Facetune 2 for PC/MAC |
Facetune 2 for MAC or PC Download Online |
Why Facetune 2 for PC or MAC? |
So, why would you want to download Facetune 2 for PC or MAC? |
The answer is simple, if you have Facetune 2 for PC you can easily apply filters to many photos, much faster than you would on your smartphone (yeah they are smart, but they are slow and tedious to work with for repetitive tasks). So… we have some good and bad news about your favorite selfie editing app – Facetune 2 On... |
the bad news: |
Facetune 2 was never actually developed for PC and Android. It is intentionally developed as a “selfie” application which, well… makes selfies with different kinds of effects and there was no need for it to be developed for PC. I can hardly imagine the developers imagining someone going in the mountain with their lapto... |
Like this… |
Facetune 2 for MAC - Mac Selfie |
☺ the good news: |
You CAN run Facetune for PC, but in order for you to be able to get Facetune for PC, you need to use an Android emulator called Bluestacks. |
Bluestacks lets you run any Android application on your PC. So you can also play your favorite games on your PC, use your favorite apps and so on. |
Click here to understand how to download Facetune for PC. |
SEE TUTORIAL: How to run Android apps on MAC/PC |
5 Major Obstacles Faced by African Entrepreneurs |
Africa is poised to become one of the world’s leading centers of entrepreneurship, with exciting companies emerging in a number of different cities. The continent has a highly skilled and increasingly connected and globalized workforce with game-changing ideas, and more venture capitalists are starting to take notice o... |
1. The fledgling nature of the venture capitalist community. |
Image courtesy UK DFID on Flickr |
Image courtesy UK DFID on Flickr |
In many ways, venture capital is still inaccessible throughout much of Africa. While many accelerators and incubators have sprung up around the continent, access to venture capital remains rather limited, especially when compared to other parts of the world. As a result, many entrepreneurs have turned to traditional ba... |
The success of some African entrepreneurs has attracted more venture capitalists to the continent, but startups need to know how to appeal to these investors. Most venture capitalists expect to see a solid business plan and numbers that demonstrate the likelihood of the startup’s success. In addition, entrepreneurs nee... |
2. The need for more entrepreneurial education. |
Many entrepreneurs—whether in Africa or elsewhere—do not understand the basic elements that contribute to the success of a company. While people worry about securing funding, they often miss the bigger picture of what success requires. While funding is important, so is the entrepreneur’s ability to adapt to changing ma... |
3. The lack of viable exit opportunities. |
Funders will not invest in a fledgling company if they cannot see a viable exit opportunity in the future. According to the Accelerating Entrepreneurship in Africa report, released by the Omidyar Network and Monitor Group, nearly half of entrepreneurs in Tanzania, Nigeria, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Ghana reported concern ab... |
4. A potentially discouraging international reputation. |
Mobile communications technologies have made Africa more connected to the rest of the world than ever before. As a result, many people have had the opportunity to set up online businesses, which require relatively little startup funding and can generate a significant amount of income. Unfortunately, some of these busin... |
Luckily, online entrepreneurs have more tools than ever before for creating and guaranteeing secure and verified transactions. Implementing these sorts of payment and credibility systems can provide confidence to customers and investors alike. |
5. A dearth of networking opportunities. |
As the startup communities in African cities continue to grow, this obstacle will shrink. However, many entrepreneurs still struggle to create an effective professional network. This is unfortunate, as the size and power of an innovator’s network largely can determine the reach of his or her creativity. People with a b... |
Some African entrepreneurs have emphasized the need for more formalized seed and angel investing networks, which could provide invaluable support. Some such networks, such as the Tony Elumelu Foundation, have already emerged, demonstrating the feasibility of and demand for these organizations. |
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Sand In Your Pockets And Nothing On Your Mind |
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The bedroom window is flung wide as if to harness the breeze, but the air outside is as still and sea-humid as it is indoors, not even a breath of wind rolling in off the ocean. The sun floods in instead, painting a blazing square of yellow on the bedsheets, and Dean stretches in it like a cat, muscles shifting under t... |
"Cas," Dean murmurs, shifting his hips. His voice is an invitation, and the sheen on his skin even more so, salt water still drying in the dip of his spine and at the nape of his neck. If Cas were to kiss him, he'd taste like summer, sweated-out coconut oil and the ocean, and Castiel takes a step toward him without thi... |
"Tease," he accuses, dark, and Dean grins back at him, pushes a hand through his damp hair. |
"Nah," he says, "I follow through." |
It's true, Dean does. Castiel knows this from experience, from every morning, afternoon, and evening that Dean has appeared on his porch, the sun limning his limbs like it's in love with him, worshipping him. Castiel understands the feeling. Whenever Dean appears -- all white smile and green eyes, broadening shoulders ... |
He watches Dean on his bed now, the way his muscles shift and flex, and takes a step forward, then another. The sunlight pouring in through the open windows caresses Dean like a lover, turns him to gold waiting for Castiel's touch to work opposite Midas magic on him, change him back into a real boy. |
Castiel's fingers twitch, his palms aching to feel Dean beneath him. |
He takes another step and pulls his shirt -- only half-buttoned -- up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. Dean watches him the whole time, lifting up on his elbows and twisting his head. His eyes are bright and Castiel's blood feels molten. With Dean he can be golden, too. |
"C'mere," Dean says, and Castiel feels his lips curving up into something coy and playful he'd never have ventured two weeks ago, before Dean broke down the barriers he'd built up around himself. Still, as he skims his thumbs down his stomach, a parry before he reaches his fly, there's self-consciousness lurking at the... |
"Cas," Dean wheedles, and Castiel jerks out of his reverie to catch him rolling his hips down into the bed, exaggerated, back and ass flexing with the motion. It doesn't exactly dissuade Castiel from his course of action, if this is what he'll get for it, but the sinuous pull of Dean's muscles and the urgency in his vo... |
"Pushy, aren't you?" he chides, voice low, and shucks pants and shorts together over his hips, kicks them aside. Dean laughs his pleasure and grinds down hard into the mattress, one smooth roll of his pelvis. The motion is almost childish, accompanied by a swift stroke of Dean's foot to the mattress that makes it bounc... |
Naturally, Castiel simply has to ruin the tableau by leaping onto the bed. Dean invited it, after all, with his pouting insistence, and the way he yelps and laughs when Castiel lands astride his thighs encourages him to take hold of Dean's shoulders and pin them, grinning against the back of his neck. His dick is press... |
"Cas," Dean says, and his voice is sultry and self-satisfied. "Fuck me." |
The words go straight to Castiel’s cock, zinging through him like the summer lightning that’s graced the shore. They’ve watched storms together through the open windows, fucked while the wind roared and the waves tossed and Dean trembled in Castiel’s hands like a sapling. Castiel had felt like God in that moment, power... |
He presses Dean into the mattress with his hips, admiring the way Dean’s shoulders flex beneath his fingers, enjoying the contrast of his own pale skin against Dean’s golden tan and freckles. Leaning in, he licks at the line of Dean’s neck, coming away with the taste of salt and sun in his mouth. “You have to ask more ... |
There’s something about Dean when they’re together, though, something about him when they’re in bed -- or in the kitchen against the counter or in the shower or...well -- that makes Castiel feel alive. He wants to play and he wants to play with Dean. |
“Some respect, huh?” Dean’s voice comes out slurred, his face turned, only half of it visible. He’s got a good profile, one that Castiel imagines will only improve as he gets older. He pushes back into Castiel’s palms, muscles shifting. “What’re you going to do if I don’t?” |
Castiel pins him harder, fingertips digging into Dean’s shoulders, hips grinding. Dean groans beneath him and Castiel shudders; it’s the best sound he’s ever heard. He leans close, his lips brushing the perfect shell of Dean’s ear. |
“Nothing you’ll like.” |
Who are you? he asks himself. Where did you come from? But Dean groans again and his hands twist in the sheets and he’s nodding, nodding. |
"Do we have a deal?" Castiel pushes, and he pushes down with his hips, too, working his dick in a rough, firm circle against the base of Dean's back, the lush swell of his ass. He feels dirty, pornographic, powerful like some long-forgotten god whose worship is sex. It's an unaccustomed feeling, one that rushes up his ... |
"Nnnn." The sound Dean makes is only that, a sound, and he rubs his face restless against the pillows, panting suddenly in a way that makes Castiel's blood skip. "God -- yeah, okay. Cas, c'mon, I'll be good, I'll --" and he shoves up and back, spreading his knees until he can anchor himself to push up into a better pos... |
"Yeah?" Castiel's throat is bone-dry, suddenly, tongue sticking. He slides backward, the hands on Dean's shoulders smoothing down his back, either side of his spine, until they find the dimples at the rise of his ass. Freed of Castiel's weight on his hips, Dean can push up more easily, now, and he does, arching his bac... |
"Cas." Dean's voice is a low plea, groaning, and he pushes back against the slow tease of Cas's touch, craning for it. "Yes. Please. Sir." Dean laughs, but it's half a whimper. "That enough respect for you?" |
"Christ." If Castiel were really the smooth operator he should be, fucking a boy like Dean, he would never have let the word slip out and given Dean the satisfaction. But Castiel is just Castiel, and he's trembling with how insane this makes him, Dean wanting him, begging him. He wants to reach down, cradle his cock ju... |
"All right," Castiel says, and then, mouth twisting. "Uh. Lube?" |
Dean bursts out a laugh at that, muffled in the pillows, but he's reaching for the tube, tossing it back between his own legs to Castiel, who catches it deftly. It isn't exactly dignified, Castiel supposes, pausing like this, Dean laughing as he flips open the top and drizzles slick over his fingers, but that's one of ... |
"That's it," he breathes, finger sliding in smoothly until it's fully sheathed in Dean, the heat of his body. Dean's grown used to this, and it's easy enough for Castiel to pull out again, bring a second finger to join the first and thrust carefully back in. His other hand cups the curve of Dean's backside, thumb holdi... |
Dean’s throat clicks as he swallows, his mouth falling open. “I -- I know,” he says. He pushes back into Castiel’s hands like he wants more, like he wants Castiel to fuck him harder, faster. Like this isn’t enough for him. Castiel knows how he feels, but he wants to take his time. He’ll fuck Dean the way he wants to, t... |
He sucks at Dean’s skin, tasting the sea and the fresher salt of sweat. “Easy.” |
“Easy for you to say,” Dean breathes. “You’re not the one with fingers in your -- fuck.” |
Castiel grins against his skin, lets Dean feel his teeth. He presses forward, against Dean’s prostate. “You were saying?” |
Dean groans, a sound broken and full of need. “Please,” he says. “Cas, would you just fucking --” |
"What?" Castiel turns his wrist, pushes with his two slick fingers until Dean is twitching reflexively, then draws them backward till the pads of them are catching at the stretched pink rim and Dean's breath stops in his throat. "Just fucking fuck you, right?" Without warning, the two fingers thrust back in, smooth har... |
"Yeah, but -- Jesus -- with your --" |
"What?" Now he's just being a tease, but Castiel rather likes this, the sense of power like whisky at the back of his throat, a pleased burn as he fucks his fingers in deep, steady jabs, Dean's body jolting at the crest of each one. His perfect body, put together by whatever sublime intelligence, and here is Castiel al... |
"Christ." Dean's voice snaps at that, head and shoulders rearing up off the bed, the curve of his back like impossible artistry and Castiel is undone even before Dean says, "With your dick, Cas. Please, I want -- want it in me. Want to feel you, need it. Please." |
The words go through Castiel like a lance. He curses under his breath, fumbling backward, and then his fingers are slipping free, Dean slick and ready in their wake. Dean lets out a rough gasp at the loss, but he'll barely have time to feel it if Castiel can be as quick as his body urges, pulling himself up onto his kn... |
"Fuck," Castiel gasps, and beneath him, Dean whimpers, pathetic, and hitches back. |
"Do it," he urges, and it would take a stronger man than Castiel to refuse him. Castiel no longer desires to be that man. He pushes forward, the head of his cock breaching the tight ring of muscle that is Dean’s ass. Against the sheets, Dean’s voice is muffled in a groan, long and drawn out. It makes Castiel’s balls ac... |
He can’t wait any longer, though, his cock already pressed inside the tight heat of Dean’s body. He has to fuck. Dean’s mewling beneath him, his fingers scrabbling at the sheets, clenching and unclenching. He tries to work his hips backwards, to fuck himself farther onto Castiel’s cock and Castiel’s caught by the visua... |
Castiel’s hips snap forward at the thought and Dean gasps, his back arching. He’s a perfect combination of lithe and strong. Castiel likes watching him twist beneath him. If he were a mathematician, he’d graph the exact curvature of Dean’s ribs, discover the circumference of his wrists, then the angle of his thighs. He... |
Math was never his forte. Instead, Castiel has his words. He has pen and paper and the satisfying click and clack of keys on his computer. His fingers knew that Dean’s presence was something to be remarked upon before Castiel had time to think. Dean had slipped into the pages of his book as easily as he slipped, later,... |
Dean pulls at the sheets now, fingers tugging until one corner slides free. Castiel will have to remake the whole thing later. Probably for the best, anyway, considering. |
Fuck.” Dean’s head drops forward onto the rumpled bed, lolling there as Castiel fucks him, thrusting in hard and pulling out slow, ensuring Dean feels every inch. He wants Dean to remember this when he returns home. He wants to know that when Dean’s gone, he’ll still remember that Castiel was here. |
Pausing only to lean down, he nips at the exposed curve of Dean’s neck, licks a stripe up his sweaty skin. If it’s sea salt or Dean he tastes, Castiel doesn’t know anymore. He likes it, though. He even likes not knowing for sure, like Dean really did rise from the ocean one morning, handcrafted by Poseidon himself for ... |
The new angle changes the depth of Castiel’s thrusts and Dean’s lungs work like a bellows, forcing air in and out of his body in loud gusts. Castiel's grip is bruise-hard on Dean's waist, low down where the marks will go unnoticed. His thumbs will leave indentations either side of Dean's tailbone, his fingers splayed u... |
"God, Dean," he rasps, and Dean makes a low sound at the touch of the words to his nape, twists when Castiel pulls back to kiss a messy line down between his shoulder blades. "Gorgeous. So damn good at this, so good for me, aren't you?" The words are barely more than whispers, mindless and hoarse, but they make Dean cr... |
"Fuck, fuck, Cas," Dean whimpers, and his voice is desperate, fragmentary, the inchoate whine of an animal. His hips are shifting spasmodically, now, and Castiel feels his rhythm breaking with Dean's, despite his best efforts. He groans, clutches at Dean's sweaty skin, but his fingers are beginning to numb from the tip... |
"C'mon," Castiel pleads, low and rough. His thrusts are faster, now, gone ragged with the rush of it, of Dean so close around him and beneath him and because of him, of his own climax creeping up his spine. "Come on, let me -- let me feel you, I want -- want you to come from this, Dean, from my cock." |
The words taste shameful in his mouth even now, with his whole body moving to the pounding of the blood in his dick, but the rush of heat that should be embarrassment turns into something else as it flashes through him, makes him pant and fuck in harder. Beneath him, the sound Dean makes is nothing less than a sob, lou... |
"God," Dean's moaning, "God, yeah, please, Cas, harder -- fuck me harder, fuck me -- oh --" |
Castiel feels the moment it hits, sudden and fierce and unmistakable as a tsunami. Dean rears up, immobilized, whole body twisted into a rictus of pleasure. For a long second, he holds it, while Castiel gasps and shivers and fucks him through it because he can't stop, jackhammer snap of his hips like a tarantella gaini... |
"Oh, God, Dean," he murmurs, "Dean." |
A sound rises from the vicinity of Dean’s head where he’s collapsed against the sheets. It could be anything -- a moan, a groan, nonsensical syllables strung together -- but it sounds like Castiel’s name, the soft click and slide of consonants and vowel. |
Castiel shivers, pausing in his movement to revel in the aftershocks that shake through Dean. He wants to savor this moment between Dean’s orgasm and his own. He can’t, though; physically, he can’t. Not when Dean’s still breathing heavy and fast beneath him, when his ass still clenches and releases around Castiel’s coc... |
Shifting on his knees, he resettles his grip on Dean’s hips, keeps him snug and close and steady as he pulls out and thrusts in. He reestablishes a rhythm, muscles working faster and faster until he’s fucking Dean the way he used to fantasize about, back before. Dean’s pliant against the sheets, taking him with soft gr... |
It isn't until he's caught his breath, pushed himself up onto his elbows and pulled out that it hits him -- not until he sees the wet shine of his own release between Dean's legs, tracing a slick line down his inner thigh. He isn't in the practice of fucking without a condom; hasn't ever, he realizes dully, fucked anyo... |
A dribble of come trails wetly across the pad of his thumb, and Dean shivers, rolls over slowly. His eyes, when they find Castiel's, are wide and dark. "Yeah." |
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