Realistic or Modern 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚐𝚘.

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[/div] [div class=sparkle][/div][/div] [div class=title]operation mint.[/div][/div]

 

[weldherwings]

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SKYLAR LEE

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[div class=h1]MOOD

[div class=h2]thank god i didn't poop my pants again[/div] [div class=h1]LOCATION[/div] [div class=h2]some cafe in spain[/div] [div class=h1]MENTIONS[/div] [div class=h2] constellation [/div] [div class=h1]INTERACTIONS[/div] [div class=h2]none[/div] [div class=h1]OUTFIT[/div]

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How the hell did he end up destroying his butthole like this?

It was those god-damn churros, I swear. The boy mentally cursed himself as he hastily made his way through the crowd to the café that he was meant to be at around fifteen minutes ago. Sure, he would’ve been on time. However, he had spent the last three hours running back and forth from his hotel toilet and expelling his bowels. He had drunk around three litres of water and took medication to help with the whole pooping situation. It seemed to have worked for… well, maybe an hour? Enough time for him to have a relaxing shower, get dressed, and finally, start walking towards the meetup point. But now… that ‘I’m going to poop my pants’ feeling was back.

His stomach gurgled violently causing the poor male to scrunch his face in disgust, and place his hand upon his stomach, hoping it would help to hold in everything that was threatening to fall out of him once more. He began some breathing exercises, like a pregnant woman would, trying to keep himself calm as he quickly made his way to his desired location. He could’ve wept tears of happiness as he saw the sign up ahead for the café. His pace quickened as fast as possible, darting through the crowd and cursing the group of grandmothers who were literally staring at the floor and commenting on how lovely the pavement was, and made his way towards the café.

Once inside, he didn’t even bother to stop and see if the people he was meant to be catching up with were here. Oh no, his butthole wasn’t waiting for people. Instead, he shot straight through the café and went straight to the bathroom. Thankfully, he made it on time. And thankfully, it gave him some times to sit down, relax, and actually think of his gameplan for this whole situation. He had received a message from an unknown number a couple of days ago, reminding him that he had promised to help out with some work and to meet at this location and at this time (well, he was meant to meet them fifteen minutes ago, but you know. Poo). At first, he had been so confused. And within a matter of minutes, it finally hit him.

It was the girl he had met at the bar last time he had travelled here.

You see, he thought he could drown his sorrows in as much alcohol that his heart so desired, and whatever money he had in his account. Thanks to a recent hack, that meant his account was filled and he quite possibly drink whatever wanted until the water in his body was replaced with alcohol. But what did this thirty-year-old have to be sad about? Big fat bank account and the ability to travel where ever he wanted in the world? How could someone be so sad? Well, he was sad because the love of his life left him. Well, she left him like…. Five years ago. But she got married to someone else… like, two years ago. You’d think he’d be over her? Oh, well, it seemed as finding out that she was pregnant and due to have a child any day now sent him into a spiral of self-hatred, which let him to drinking away the pain.

He was meant to be the one to marry her one day. He was meant to be the father to their future children. He was meant to be the person that she was going to wake up next to every morning and say how much she loved him, and how perfect life was. But he wasn’t. She broke up with him, stating he was too immature. They had been dating for six years. He had bought a ring and was in preparations of how he was going to propose to her. Heck, she didn’t want to have sex before they were married and he respected that – and now he was a freaking 30-year-old virgin. That’s never any fun! So, he had decided that night at the bar that he was going to finally do it; he was finally to get rid of his virginity. Surprisingly enough, it didn’t take long to find someone willing to help him out.

However, it wasn’t until he found himself half-naked and hand-cuffed to his hotel bed that he realised that he was actually getting robbed. Apparently losing your virginity was much harder than he anticipated. Anyways, she called him out on having multiple passports and bank cards (seven to be exact; one for each fake identity he had created for himself), before she managed to reach an agreement with him. She wouldn’t rob him or turn him in to police if she helped him with a special job. It seemed like a fair deal, didn’t it?

Finally, the deed had been done and he could finish with a sigh of relief. After flushing the demon back to hell where it came from and washed his hands, he made his way back into the main area. Now… This was going to be hard because… well… he couldn’t freaking remember what she looked like. The boy had been so drunk that all the faces of the women here were beginning to look the same. His gaze continued to search around the room… Oh man, was he going to have to call her? There was nothing worse than speaking on the phone to someone.

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coded by weldherwings

[class=body]position: relative;box-sizing: border-box;width: 600px;height: 560px;overflow: hidden; margin: auto;padding: 0;[/class] [class=right]position: absolute;overflow: visible;width: 321px;height: 550px;left: 279px;top: 0px;background:url(https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DaCpsA-VAAAt-SG.jpg);border-radius: 0px 25px 25px 0px; background-size: 125%; background-position:50%;[/class] [class=left]position: absolute;overflow: visible;width: 279px;height: 550px;left: 0px;top: 0px;background: linear-gradient(180deg, #A7B7CE 30%, #EAEBF0 30%);border-radius: 25px 0px 0px 25px;[/class] [class name=scroll]width: 100%;height: 100%; overflow: hidden;box-sizing: content-box;padding-right:50px; left: -2px;font-size:14px;overflow-Y: scroll;overflow-X: hidden;color: #454a4e; line-height:19px;font-familypen Sans; letter-spacing: -0.5px;[/class] [class=h1]font-family:Lato;font-size:12px;font-style: italic; letter-spacing: 3px; margin-left: 5px;text-transform: upperCASE;background: #d0e1f7;margin-top: 15px;height: 15px;display: inline-block; color:#3b3a3a; [/class] [class=h2]color: #454a4e; line-height:15px;font-familypen Sans; letter-spacing: -0.5px;font-size:14px; margin-left:5px; [/class]

 

[yousmelldead]

[class=donny] position: relative; box-sizing: border-box; width: 550px; height: 650px; background: url(https://imgur.com/bhw8XCi.jpg); overflow: hidden; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 0; [/class][class=text] position: relative; overflow: auto; width: 373px; height: 393px; font-size: 12px; font-family: avenir; line-height: 16px; color: #000; padding: 8px; text-align: justify; [/class][class=textcontainer] position: absolute; overflow: hidden; width: 373px; height: 393px; left: 167px; top: 247px; background-color: #fff; [/class] [div class=donny] [div class=textcontainer][div class=text] There were four types of people in the world; self-obsessed, loners, hot-shots, and idiots.

All four of the said types of people were currently hanging around the cafe that Donny was instructed to meet at by the psychopath-but-hot woman that he had managed to run into. The woman had seemed normal, friendly you might even say however things had taken a turn though when he waved her goodbye, her wallet in his right hand behind his back as he waved with his left. Now on a normal day, Donny would have scored some cash maybe even a social security card if she was so kind to have left it in her wallet. Long story short, none if this happened. She ended up putting him in a choke hold and pretty much threatened his existence unless he joined her little club.

Was that actually how that went down? Probably not, Donny was a story teller. Nonetheless the dark haired boy sat casually in the back corner of the cafe, his back to the wall as he gazed around the area. Two woman were there in their own corner, the self-obsessed type, with their noses so far into their phones. Why bother even going out with a friend if there wasn't any actual socialization happening?

Shake it off Donny. The male moved his dark gaze to the next type of person on his list: the hot-shots. A group of men had gathered at one of the larger tables at the cafe, each of them with their fruity beverage and one of those cake pops. Fuck, I don't even want to go there. The bell dinging above the cafe door caused Donny to turn quickly to our second to last type of person: the idiot. "Oh this is going to be good." Donny raised his cup slightly, pressing the rim to his lips as he watched a male anxiously walk---no that fucker ran into the cafe and right to the bathroom. Something was always so pleasing watching another person run to a bathroom, not knowing if they were going to shit themselves or not.

"Sir, do you need anything else?"

Donny placed the cup down on the table, his tongue coming out to wipe away the foam that clung to his upper lip from the latte. "No, I'm good thanks." Finally ladies and gents, we have the fourth and final type of person--the loner. Donny cleared his throat as the woman walked away quickly, his dark eyes moving to the bathroom area for another moment before eyeing his phone screen. Where the fuck was this lady? If he wasn't so polite afraid, he would have left by now.

Ah, well at least sir Shits-A-Lot had emerged from his throne. Donny could occupy himself by trying to figure out what the man had for lunch that fucked up his stomach.

MOOD: "I'm not scared."
OUTFIT: here
LOCATION: some cafe in spain
MENTIONS: super hot scary lady and sir shits-a-lot
TAGS: weldherwings constellation

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