#soyeltoro

[metallicprince]

soyeltoro replied to your post:     When you sleep all day due to      injuries...

1 know how that 1s… what happened?

     I got into a fight with some old      guys from a gang I used to tussel      Kinda got outnumbered because,      well, shit, why would anybody think      that an old gang is gonna fight you?      So three against one was kinda unfair.

[cutemoniic]

How about you swallow an entire bandwagon of shit.

[eridacnis]

soyeltoro started following you

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wwell hello there my newwest followwers my names eridan and youll havve a great time on my blog if you dont bore me to death

[cutemoniic]

1 was just ask1ng a quest1on... d*mn... f1nd your ch1ll, 1ce w1tch...

you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real. v you’re not real. you’re not real. you’re not real.

[pheonixesashes]

soyeltoro

Well, I don’t think I’ve met one of you before.  The name’s Demetri. 

[cutemoniic]

He has been waiting for this, you can feel that in every single cell of your new, curvy body.

Your skin burns with boiling ice as you finally hop on a cloud, phone with you to ask for help -- if needed. You doubt you would, honestly. His heart could stop beating, once you’ll shift in front of him. He will piss his pants and then you’ll beat him the fuck out.

It’s more than enough to know by gut feeling that he’s still living at your house. You just feel it, it burns your skin underneath tissues and tendons, and it makes you jump onto your loyal storm of clouds to get up in the sky.

High, where humns couldn’t breathe, but where you are sprawled in the soft material and flying slowly, leaded by the wind, towards your old house.

It doesn’t take you so long, and you hop off to the ground delicately, the tips of your toes barely touching the ground, arms opened gracefully, as if you were flying, still.

Then you spin and crash his (your?) door down with a well placed kick, your leg turned into striped skin and sharp blades along your ankles. The wood pops out of the door’s sockets like butter, and you shift your leg back to your normal, slendy ones as you step inside, eyes darting around, as a trail of ice follows your burning gaze.

Might as well freeze him in.

[fovoumai]

soyeltoro

hey hows it hanging im dave strider and you can expect teenage angst from this blog along with frequent reblogs of elvis presley and ice cream