madison montgomery & kyle spencer aesthetic ( ft. @boybutchered )
With the lipstick stains in your cigarette smoke Oh my heartache Queen Oh baby, do you wanna dance? Wanna dance with me
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China

seen from United States

seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from Germany

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany
madison montgomery & kyle spencer aesthetic ( ft. @boybutchered )
With the lipstick stains in your cigarette smoke Oh my heartache Queen Oh baby, do you wanna dance? Wanna dance with me
★ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌. there isn’t supposed to be anyone else here, in that there is not supposed to be anyone here at all, but the sound of footsteps 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚 in the eerie silence of the decommissioned grocery store. a hand that had been reaching for what looked like a can or a jar left alone on the top shelf stills, curling back into jasper’s body which tenses up with the sudden sense that he is not alone.
but it’s not like he’s about to be caught doing anything horrendous, no devious criminal acts planned for the evening besides the light trespassing of a guy and his camera to get a few shots with an urban exploratory edge, and so he decides there is little reason to panic just yet. ⸻ 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, not really. he peeks out from the end of an aisle, straining his eyes against the darkness to make out the details of human shaped shadow and failing. whoever, whatever they are, they stand between jasper and the exit, and swallowing hard against nervousness, he finds his voice.
“ hello ? ⸻ someone there ? ”
@boybutchered / 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞 !
⭒ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐌. there isn't supposed to be anyone else here, in that there is not supposed to be anyone here at all, but the sound of footsteps 𝙢𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙨 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙗𝙚 𝙜𝙪𝙣𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚 in the eerie silence of the decommissioned grocery store. a hand that had been reaching for what looked like a can or a jar left alone on the top shelf stills, curling back into jasper's body which tenses up with the sudden sense that he is not alone. but it's not like he's about to be caught doing anything horrendous, no devious criminal acts planned for the evening besides the light trespassing of a guy and his camera to get a few shots with an urban exploratory edge, and so he decides there is little reason to panic just yet. ⸻ 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦'𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰, not really. he peeks out from the end of an aisle, straining his eyes against the darkness to make out the details of human shaped shadow and failing. whoever, whatever they are, they stand between jasper and the exit, and swallowing hard against nervousness, he finds his voice.
" hello ? ⸻ someone there ? "
@boybutchered / 𝐤𝐲𝐥𝐞 !
@boybutchered | 📱
[ txt to frankenhottie ] what’s your pant size? i’m out shopping. and you need an upgrade. being dead - doesn’t mean you should dress like you stepped out of abecrombie.