Dec 8, 2014
He’s so in love with himself he fucked his twin brother.
*s p ittakes*
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Australia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Finland
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Japan
seen from China
He’s so in love with himself he fucked his twin brother.
*s p ittakes*
neonposted
"I hope it's a girl. I really want it to be a girl."
neonposted replied to your post:unstrungbones replied to your post:unstrungbones...
*dorian voice* like gross
-britta voice- he gives me cheaper drinks and his dick is big UNLIKE SOMEONE'S
"As the (savagest) uncle of this baby, it is my right to spoil it." from miles B)
"That doesn't mean you're allowed to lick her tail! That's my daughter, for fuck's sake!" She frowns and gives his shoulder a shove.
neonposted
Innocent smiling. "Briaaaaannn."
"is it too early in the year for a booze cruise to hawaii?" joking. mostly.
☞ ................. so what if you did imogen afridi
"Babe." He's not even satisfied with this so-called nude she sent him. It's just her boobs in her bra, and even if they're the most perfect and proportionate boobs, she could have done better. There's never any giving in this relationship, only taking.
"Babe, stop. Why are you like this. I'm giving this nude a D-minus. Boobs."
☞ DO FINN VAN ZANDT
send me ☞ + a character to see how i would portray them.
No. No this won't do at all. The colours are blurred and smudged in all the wrong places and whoever thought blue and purple could mix in way like that was obviously on something stronger than anything Finn van Zandt could handle.
And he's not even thinking about his painting not yet. He's thinking about his life, his choices, his come down.
That incessant, stupid cycle of doubt and regret and elation. Fingers creep across the wall and he watches the colours shift in his mind, twisting and tumbling around his fingertips.
His mouth hangs open for a moment. He wants to speak, wants to utter a word hanging on the tip of his tongue. Instead, a small sigh creeps past his lips and curls through the air.
He lets the wall go, falls onto his bed. He's tired. He's always tired. He's not sure he remember when he wasn't.