C'est trop tard @bwxjongsuk - Tumblr Blog

Guillotine ❦ Seungri/Jongsuk

The pattern of liquid fallout continues and hoarfrost coated grass develops into frozen ground enveloped in thin layers of crystalline ashes, and today the snow falls persistently and an ambient beat that is sluggish and delicate. For the fifteenth time – he’s counted – Jongsuk readjusts the top button of his coat. Periodically he had fumbled with the object throughout the day, an unspoken anxiety coursing through his veins. His schedule, presently, is nonexistent; everything spontaneous and prompted from ennui and rejection of lassitude, but the studies of Niels Bohr entertains him little for he had already memorized the influence the uranium-235 isotope has on nuclear fission. The words were reiterations, and he vacated the premises after returning the aging tombs on their respective shelves and braved descending temperatures, mentally bidding himself to reevaluate the physics of black-body radiation, the energy of the oscillators and quantization.

His clothes rapidly becomes peppered in white fragments, however, outside he does not find relief. The open space is expansive and numbingly infinite, his brow creases and his teeth finds themselves drawing pain from his cheeks, another thought smothered in a bout of muted frustration. He has never displayed symptoms of agoraphobia, yet his legs are afflicted by tremors, heart rate spiking in speed and beads of sweat cumulate at his nape during the trek from the building of knowledge and archives to the dormitory. Treatment, he had divulged the truth to hardly anyone and still they insist on a burdensome future of debt and suffering. Jongsuk shoves his fists into his pockets, shifts his gaze from the sidewalk littered with salt and to the sky shrouded in overfed clouds above. His body already consuming itself, slowly, dreadfully, and he stares ahead with eyes shadowed by a lack of rest.

The face he sees, approaching from the opposite end of the property, is not merely striking to him; it paralyzes his thoughts and prompts an echo of a name. The man’s an apparent modernized Idi Amin, some sort of brute with a countenance that feigns compassion. “Seungri.” He remembers the name, mumbles it as he slackens the pace of his advances until he’s standing with tunnel vision, fixated on this young man that in normal circumstances, he wouldn’t bat an eye at, but now, he damages the palms of his hands to hemispherical depressions and bites his tongue. Ares is told by his father the he is the most hateful God, violence breeds more violence, and although the muscles are fraught his jaw unfastens, calling to the man previously a stranger. “Hey, Lee Seunghyun!” Jongsuk discovers, while approaching the other man, he is disabled from smiling or spinning deception despite the rabid rage of Dionysius the Elder infecting him little by little. Nonetheless, when pausing in front of Seunghyun, he doesn’t strike, instead he’s static, and manages eloquence. “It’s overdue, but I need to talk to you.”

#para;guillotine #bwxseungri

"HYUNG I GOT A PUPPY CHRISTMAS CAME EARLY!" Sungjong wailed excitedly down the phone to Jongsuk. "He's going to be my guide dog, he's so cute, he'll keep me company since I can't really go out in the snow and my dormmates have left!" his excited tone didn't really change even though it was mildly upsetting that he felt so lonely during this time of year.

His eardrums - as a safety precaution he pulls his cell phone away from him by a few inches, preoccupied with blinking away the stars and perplexity. Was Sungjong trying to make him go deaf? Tentatively, he settled the speaker back against his ear. “A puppy?” Could he believe it? However, there’s been a million and one strange occurrences that happened at this school, hell, he was surprised aliens hadn’t landed here and colonized them yet. “That’s great, what did you name him?” Jongsuk asked, attempting to mask his very real concern. It wasn’t like Sungjong was incapable of taking care of an animal it’s just… “Would you mind if I came over to see it sometime?” …concerning.

#sungjongbw

Walking to a café was a terrible idea, his blood had become frozen solid and now, officially, he is the winter, assembled from icicles and snowflake skin. Frantically, despite wearing gloves, he rubbed his hands together because the pathetic knitted material practically scorned him by blatantly allowing the wind to cut through his flesh and into his bones – never mind that he should have checked the weather report before going on this impromptu venture. “I’m turning into fricken Jack Frost over here.” Grumbling, Jongsuk tries to ignore how immature his complaint was and returnes his hand to Sungjong’s shoulder, eyes restless, jerking side to side in an impatience search of an establishment that sold hot beverages to weary travelers like themselves. “You could snap my fingers off and use them as tree ornaments. I’m sorry, I messed up - this was a terrible idea.” Of course, the grievances continue as seamless blabbering from his slushie of a mind, and he deserves the expression Sungjong sends him, a frown nearly guilty and eyebrows curled. Oh, he might as well have just kicked a puppy.

“I’m sorry…” His heart is stopping, the remorse in the response, he had single handedly dug himself a grave and he better get comfortable with sleeping in a pile of dirt and invertebrates. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I –” Oh God, smite him down now, there’s a siren spitting his cranium and his eyes become wider, panicked, the ink circles are constricted and becoming the size of granulated salt. Why did he have to be such a complete idiot when the weather becomes unholy and ferocious? Rapidly, Jongsuk’s grip tightens and their movement ceases, they’re standing in a flurry of merciless snowfall and he swoops down, places a chaste kiss against Sungjong’s cheek and with stunted respiration, returns to his previous posture, watching the bewilderment progress on the boy’s face. “Um…Hyung?” Yes, he exhales and breathes in this dreadful air, the plan was successful, and he shrugs, walking again whilst guiding the shorter male. “Mistletoe.” His explanation is lie, and probably morally wrong, but he can think about those questions later. “…Mistle…What?” Another completely lost, helpless question, and he smiles because fuck yes, crises averted, and he directs Sungjong into the café, humming as he entertains an answer, perpetually thankful for the power of confusion.

#bullymeme #sungjongbw

x [ u knew it was coming ]

The vicinity’s aroma, for reasons unknown (although if he had to guess he’d point his finger in the direction of the mall Santa), was influenced by gingerbread cookies and a disconcerting hint of beef and cheese. Jongsuk, at random intervals, transferred the shopping bags into his right hand, then his left, attempting to find that perfect balance to prevent his arms from popping out of their sockets and therefore, leading to an unfortunate visit to the hospital. Imagine the traffic. The imagery lead to a grimace and became the catalyst to Jihoon jabbing his finger into his abdomen, probably testing if he was going to crumble into debris or combust in an explosion of confetti and ribbon curls. “Look.” The demand could mean a million things - cast his gaze onto the mob of high school kids hypnotized into believing they were delinquents or watch as a middle aged man does a back handspring onto a plastic reindeer - but after gaining some common sense, Jongsuk pulled his pupils over to his boyfriend, adamantly pointing at something overhead.

“What?” The question is deep-fried in confusion. Alas, it’s a common state of mind for him when immersed in a highly populated center for chaos and shenanigans, and he again, redirects his attention, this time to the doorway of a candy shop, which had cleverly, or typically, nailed mistletoe to their entrance. How deceptive, he scrutinized the offending plant, but upon realizing the opportunity to be a diseased heathen, his countenance transformed entirety, the edges of his lips pulling upwards and the soreness in his arms virtually disappearing. “This is how Loki killed Balder; I think my life is flashing before my eyes.” Jongsuk’s words are a mutter, a distraction, the sentence nothing more than a ingenious ruse to divert the boy while he wraps and arm around his waist, tugs him closer, and steals a kiss. He has a proclivity for keeping Jihoon close, the palm of his freehand connected to the boy’s neck, the bones in his thumb constricting, curing down his jawline. There’s compression, and amidst the warmth, he tastes the hot chocolate lingering on Jihoon’s lips, and releases him. Would they call him a blasphemer, or mischievous? The contemplation fades away as he walks backwards, entering the store while donning a smirk. He was going to milk this holiday for all that its worth, bystanders be damned.

#bwxpyo #bullymeme #[ of course i know all ]

Apparently the universe was functional only when tormenting him. Gravity was a cruel joke and sleep, well, the definition of the word had escaped his memory forty-some hours ago, his nervous system now dulled and his scleras webbed by vines dyed in cranberry juice. Exams, his legs were cement underneath an arch within the building, Stationary and exceptionally exhausted, he covered his yawn with the sleeve of an atrocious Christmas sweater received in the mail by a not so conspicuous trickster, the sewn on reindeer spiting him with it’s luminescent red nose and holiday cheer. Seconds had to transpire before Jongsuk noticed the curious visage of another, a shorter man inert beneath the wooden casing, and naturally inquisitive (which, also, was probably some sort of curse), he followed the gaze, discovering a bundle of green ornamented with white pearls - mistletoe.

Oh.

His weight shifted to the right hemisphere of his body, palm returning to the nape of his neck, fingers curling although logically bullshit western traditions shouldn’t have an affect or influence on him. Taking advantage of his peripheral vision he observed his company, also snared in by some twisted seasonal magic, a person made striking by the subtle contours of cheekbones and crataegus tinted lips - no, he didn’t recall meeting this person before, just another stranger without a name, and his muscles relaxed. “Hey.” Requesting to actually be acknowledged at he spoke, voice only weary due to rest deprivation, and languidly, he pressed his lips to his index finger, and then, with a pace turned hasty, flicked the boy on the forehead, a grin without enmity stretched across his face. “Later, nerd.” Had he gone insane? Laughter fringed his farewell, almost uncontrollably, and he left, meandering down the hall, the madness of mathematical surplus certainly deteriorating his mind.

#bwdae #bullymeme

fuckyeahkdramas

#mon visage #reblogs

bwxpyo

I wanna name one Louise and one of them Crayon. /he nods, laughing and shrugging his shoulders at the single kiss against his neck; We can name one Dali, like Salvador Dali. You can name the rest, those are just the names that I like. /he turns his head and presses a kiss to the side of Jongsuk’s nose; We can come up with names in the bath. It’s sudden, but eh, it’ll be nice, especially one with lots of bubbles, c’mon, I’ll run the water. /slides off his lap and runs off to the bathroom in a childish manor. within minutes the water is running and the bubbles are already overflowing; Oh god there’s too much bubbles. Do we have insurance on a dorm room? Can we get in trouble for water damage? Do bubbles even cause water damage? Uh, Jongsuk, I think I put enough bubbles, and the water is ready. Get over here and take your clothes off.

bwxjongsuk

/when kissed his eyes close, but he smiles, the edges of his mouth quirking up into his cheeks; Louise, Crayon, and Dali work for me, but with one named after Mr.Salvador we’ll need another crystal named Walt, in respect to Mir.Disney. /he stays put, waiting and studying the other jars with developing crystals, jolting upwards when called, eyebrows raising; Alright. /something seems off, but he shrugs it off, freeing himself of his shirt and tossing towards some unknown corner in his dorm before padding into the bathroom with his hands undoing his jeans, and then he notices, with expanded fisheyes, the bubble monster Mad Scientist Pyo Jihoon has created. Oh Lord of Physics, actually-; I think you broke the laws of the universe. /curious, he reaches forward, tests the strength of the bubbles and laughs when a few pop; Dude what did you do? /he laughs again, shaking his head, and grabs Jihoon’s wrist, pulling him closer; Are you some sort of magician? /smiling, his hands relocate to Jihoon’s hips and his fingers slide underneath the fabric of his shirt, inclined to trace patterns into his skin, but a moment later he pull the shirt upwards, but he lets go in the middle of the task, leaving his face covered; Thank you, dork-lord. /through the fabric, and in revenge, he kisses the boy’s nose before removing the shirt entirely, with of course, a smirk plastered on his face

#bwxpyo #[ idk how you deal with me ]

bwxjongsuk

Ghost Busters ❦ Jihoon/Jongsuk

bwxpyo

Hearing Jongsuk’s voice raise made him jump, a frown tugging at his lips almost immediately. The last thing he wanted was for him to worry and get worked up, but of course it would happen. But maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing, the other cared about him and that meant a lot to him in the end. Sighing shakily he murmurs, “I don’t know the city kid. The bully is… well, Seungri. Do you know him? He seems to be popular with everyone else, everyone likes him by the looks of it.” The bones in his legs stop moving, resulting in his somewhat fast pace coming to a screeching halt. He turns and hugs Jongsuk, his arms wrapped tightly around his waist as his face is pressed against his chest, “I’m really okay, I promise. I’m just a little sore, but it’s nothing like the day it happened.” A tired, yet sad, sigh leaves his lips and he shrugs, “I’ll be okay, I’ve just been kind of scared to go out.” He sniffles, the cold making his nose run as he clings to Jongsuk, his scent filling his lungs, it relaxing him more than any sort of incense possibly could.

bwxjongsuk

Seungri. Wrinkles marred the appearance of his brow, the name echoing and sliding off the boundaries of his mind, no face or person materializing within his thoughts because of it. Languid, Jongsuk shakes his head, ceasing their meander through the city near simultaneously with Jihoon, instinctively lacing his fingers through the boy’s hair, almost tenacious in a resolve to keep him like this, safe. His mind is a pandemonium, a concoction of birds with razor blade wings, rage and guilt, his other arm wrapped around Jihoon’s back, hand clasping on the opposite shoulder, body incased in iron and blood pressure rising – he breathes, wonders if the pace of his heart will decrease in the immediate future. Jongsuk parts his lips, a heartbeat away from enunciating clumsy, foolish words, and he stops himself, bidding away frustrating and placing a kiss against Jihoon’s forehead. “I’m going to lock you away in a tower.” He states, tone absolute and obdurate regardless of the impossibility. “And I’ll find a dragon to keep you safe. I’m sorry, truth is, I’m a villain, and I’m going to keep you all to myself.” These strings of words are stones that are only feathered in sugar and immaturity, it’s silly, it’s serious, and he curls his fingers and runs them through Jihoon’s hair in a muted rhythm. “Should we do something else?” Jongsuk asks, attempting to change subjects even though his thoughts are possessed by violence and possession. He exhales heavily, kisses his forehead again, whispers into his hair. “I don’t want you to strain yourself.”

#bwxpyo #para;Ghost Busters

bwxjongsuk

Qui n'était pas tant ❦ Jihoon/Jongsuk

bwxpyo

Waddling beside the other, he lets out an excited gasp, “An adventure? I love going on adventures. Though, I don’t get to go on them often, no one wants to go off and run around.” He gives a light shrug as he stares in awe at the tree house and the vegetation growing on it and from within it.

Reluctantly, he pulls away from beside Jongsuk’s side and timidly walks in, being careful of anything on the floor he might trip on. Honestly, he didn’t want to step on any flowers, or trip over any tree roots, those always seemed to get him and do the most damage. “Did you make this place?” He walks around, being sure to step lightly, as if he were going to fall through the creaking floor boards. As he walks, he kneels down to examine the flowers, and mostly the moss. It was weird, he guesses, but he’s always loved the green fuzz, he’s always loved moss. Running his fingers across it, he laughs before squishing part of it with his index finger, it wasn’t hard to keep him entertained.

"Come over here, there’s moss, it’s really soft." Though he had the idea that Jongsuk wouldn’t care about the findings of the damp green carpet of fuzz, he couldn’t help but share, he wanted to show him, he wanted to tell him about everything he saw or found, despite the fact that he most likely had already seen everything here more than once. "It’s so pretty… I could probably live here forever, honestly, it’s just that nice, even with how it is. In my opinion, at least. I like how the sun shines through the openings in the ceiling, it makes this place look like it’s from a fairy tale."

bwxjongsuk

The presence of eccentric life is absent and he inhales the traces of the unrestrained souls of future architects, absently tugging on a vine that has weaved through a crevice in the treehouse, memories arising and dissipating to the ballet of hazy phantasms. He almost envies them, a quality of emerald tint synonymous within the plant and himself; however he tucks it away, gathers the rancor to his chest and absorbs bitter thoughts, wishing to forget. “No, I didn’t, I’m not very good with woodwork. But I knew some of the people who did, although they’ve all graduated by now.” The elucidation are notes, a wistful sigh creeping out of his lungs, he inhales the monster back in, curls his lips into a smile, feigning equilibrium and sanity.

It’s arguable that there is only one moment in time, the present, as blackholes remain unexploited, and he wills away reminiscences, his own blackholes directed at the younger man, scrutinizing him, not out of distain, but for a distraction. Human beings preform their emotions, their contemplations, so much so trained eyes and keen brains can read any individual like a book. There is no magic to a Sherlock Holmes life of deduction, yet, he shuts the cerebral center of logic down, merely captivated by the manner Jihoon examines the moss, as if the organism is fragile and prepared to run upon any sudden movement. The muscles tangled within his legs feel hollowed, limbs dry rot and infested with decaying fungi. His veins are mycelium, he sits down beside Jihoon, presses his palm into the moss.

“Moss is a bioindicator for air pollution, it’s a good sign that it can still grow in Seoul, but we’re being affected by metropolises overseas and our own destruction. There’s been a rise in asthma in children, so perhaps we won’t be seeing species like this much longer and furthermore…” He pauses, oxygen stuck between his lungs and throat. Jongsuk glances to the sunbeams and the particles of dust swimming the air, anxious, but undaunted. “…It’s not irreversible, these plants are sturdier than they seem, being amongst the eldest of this world. If they could speak, they’d be able to weave countless fairy tales, but I assume, in an archaic language we couldn’t understand.” His thoughts are waves, pushing sand and enveloping the shoreline, then pulled by gravity, dragged into the abyss. “They might whisper of us as well, with poetic analogies to correlate the sun to your blood cells.” The comment reaches full circle, spellbound and drawn to the skeletal structure, and when capturing Jihoon’s hand he’s gentle, tracing a bone connecting knuckle to wrist, absolutely silent.

#para;Qui n'était pas tant #bwxpyo

-- Tracker

So I am terribly slow, so slow, I am the sloth. With thanksgiving and lack of sleep and admin business I hadn't had much time to get IC shit together however, now that thanksgiving is over and I am gaining sleep thanks to doses of diphenhydramine, and admin business will no longer be so cray cray, I am doing good, feeling good, and getting my groove back so will be back in business.

To the people I said I'd plot with (named @ the bottom) I'm sorry I haven't gotten back to you yet and will soon! really! I promise.

And to the people I am plotting with...I'll do that soon also! Really! And my replies will be out soon although I'm waiting on some of these starters because I'm not sure about what the setting will be for December but hey, I'll get back to you if i need to and get it done. (finally) Thanks for not hating me. :^)

Jongsuk

I need to write starters for..

Seungri

Taemin

Jonghyun

Need to reply to...

Jinyoung

Pyo x 3

Waiting on...

Kyungri

Sungjong

Need to message about plots...

Krystal

Waiting to hear from...

Nana

Simon

Hanyoung

I need to write starters for..

Jinyoung

Need to reply to...

Minhee

Tiffany

Waiting on...

Sunggyu

Minhee

Gunwoo

Tatiana (?)

Need to message about plots...

Sora (When I figure stuff out)

Waiting to hear from...

Key

CNU

Naeun?

Byunghun/L.Joe

I need to write starters for..

No one! [thank u bora]

Need to reply to...

Boa, Bora

Waiting on...

No one!

Need to message about plots...

Tiffany

Donghoon

Naeun

Waiting to hear from...

Dasom

Thunder

Minhee?

People I need to message back about plotting and with what character;

Acchan

Sojin

Hayi

Hansol

Suzy (When back from hiatusland)

Luckily I don't have too much going on right now so everything should be taken care of soon. If I forgot something, message me! Chances are I did because I'm ?? who knows. Also, if you wish to drop something or change something or do something new, message me, and if you want to plot you can message me (although say which character you want to plot with) or you can catch me on AIM ([email protected]) just know I can be TERRIBLY SLOW. I CAN BE SO SLOW WITH PLOTTING AND IT'S HORRIBLE. I AM SORRY.

That is all.

I will now sleep.

#ooc #tbd

bwxpyo

A stress-free environment? It felt like I was walking onto the set of a cheesy porno. /and he finally cracks, his loud laughter filling the air as he leans over, his eyes taking the shapes of crescent moons. as his laughter ceases, he waddles over, walking behind the desk and climbing onto jongsuk’s lap without invitation. before paying any attention to the jar holding the crystal, he shifts around before relaxing against his chest; One of the babies! He looks pretty, and I think Tony Stark is a good name for him. What about the other’s, what are their names?

bwxjongsuk

That was half of my intention actually. /unable to help himself, he grins and wraps his arms around Jihoon's waist, pressing his forehead against the boy's shoulder and peaking over it soon after; I haven't decided. We could either follow the superhero theme until the bitter end or just fuck it all and go nuts. For example - Captain America or Macho Man Randy Savage? It's tough, being a parent is hard and nobody understands. /sighing, he rests his forehead against Jihoon again and for good measure, rises and kisses his neck a second later; What do you want to name them?

#bwxpyo

hedvnisiticsvul-blog1

xx —remembrance

[ text → jongsuk ] I have to wonder if your number is the same or if I just sent this to some random old guy...or hell old woman...in which case sorry!

Chaerin took a moment after the first text, which she decided to send on a whim, before sending another one just to clear up the lingering sense of awkwardness that was seeping through her bones. It had been god only knew how long since they’d last talked and so far the re-impression was pretty horrible in her own, occasionally humble, opinion.

[ text → jongsuk ] Wow..this sounds hella awkward already. Anyways...what's up?

bwxjongsuk

It was a deafening, resonating mental scolding that criticized him for voluntarily avoiding sleep and the nightmares that awaited him, so he blocked them out with Beethoven. Ink seeped into his skin, smudges and stains sullied his fingers from creating nonsensical notes on space-time, lines of Hangul and French cluttering the fifteenth torn-out notebook page of the night, and disregarding rules, he inhaled tobacco, tar, and four thousand chemicals in which fifty one of them are known carcinogens. Jongsuk exhaled streams of toxic pollution out the window of his dorm room; obstinate enough to neglect the exhaustion incarcerating his skeleton, and the only thought that crossed his mind was the musings of ingesting caffeine pills. When his phone began to flash luminescence, the tips of his pen was separated from the diagrams of machinery and stars, paying mind to the unknown person requesting his attention, but then again, their prose posed a puzzle easily solved.

[ text → chaerin ] I regret to inform you that you have not contacted a lonely stranger, but rather me, one Lee Jongsuk.

[ text → chaerin ] You're lucky you're the only person I know that uses 'hella' by the way. New phone. New me. New memory. It's science fiction.

[ text → chaerin ] Which is pretty much what I'm occupied with now, bullshit science fiction, so, not much. What about yourself?

#clxrinbw #para;remembrance #[ sorry i'm was really slow and i hope you're still here kicks myself ]

bwxpyo

/it’s hard to keep a straight face, but he somehow manages. fighting back a smile, he raises an eyebrow; What is this? Are you supposed to be the Godfather? Why are the lights off and why do you have all the candles lit? /bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt to hold back his loud laughter; Is it because you want me to hold your hand and tell you when to push? Cause if not, then no, I don’t really seem to know.

bwxjongsuk

/he remains stoic and cold, yes, he is the Godfather, or the actual father?; I'm creating a stress-free environment for our children so they can one day graduate from a S.K.Y university. /with a nod he confirms the story and spins back around and unfortunately, underestimating his strength, spins one extra time, stopping right where he started; ...Hold on /this time he spins himself slowly and stops at the desk, using this perfect opportunity to reach forward and grab one of the jars; Meet Tony Stark. /gesturing with his free hand, he beckons Jihoon over while inspecting their translucent half-purple alien crystal child abomination

#bwxpyo #[ l a u g h s im sorry ]

bwxpyo

[/text] are you implying that i’m addicted to crack [/text] what [/text] since when were you pregnant oh my god??? [/text] I DONT EVEN THINK MEN CAN GET PREGNANT [/text] okay i’m coming

/waddles past the dorm room door; Jongsuk? Where are you? If you’re having a baby you better get in the bathtub! I’m not cleaning up any weird stuff that comes out of you!

bwxjongsuk

[/text] ㅋㅋㅋ

/previously on jongsuk's very boring and mundane evening he was resting his head on his desk staring at several jars occupied by floating crystalline rocks, the entire event was like watching Jeopardy in a foreign language that he didn't understand, like Italian, but now, thanks to a moment of excitement, he lifted his head and folded his arms over the table. he is the epitome of a brilliant James Bond villain, he strokes his invisible beard and glances over to his victim; Jihoon, I've been waiting for you. /it's a dramatic pause, leading towards the moment of truth in a mafia crime drama. he slowly spins his woobley wheeled desk chair to face the panicked young man, arms folded across his chest; Do you know why I have called you out here tonight?

#bwxpyo

bwxpyo replied to your post:

[/text] i don’t even know where to get cocaine. [/text] if i sell that do you think we’d make a lot of money?? [/text] what [/text] i’m in the library you doofus

[/text] If I had a dollar for every time a crack addicted teen said that to me..

[/text] You are not selling crack cocaine.

[/text] Nerd.

[/text] Please come home.

[/text] Jihoon I'm going into labor.

#bwxpyo #bwxjongsuk;txts

bwxpyo replied to your post:

[/text] i’m not auctioning my whole self just my arm [/text] we need money [/text] you’re gonna have to come find me if you’re gonna kidnap me

[/text] But we don't need dirty money!! Don't sell your arm for money!! Next thing you know you'll be scavenging the streets for some crack cocaine trust me I've seen some modern American television.

[/text] Dark stuff.

[/text] Just tell me where you are so I don't have to contact your phone company again.

#bwxpyo #bwxjongsuk;txts

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

C'est trop tard