#bootcuts
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seluar dia memang takde ruang sedap doh kalau dapat ni "pm ntuk beli"
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nak join group? Direct PM 👉🏻Telegram : kafkapipol
#candid#modal lancap#bootcut jeans#bahanlancap#bahansedap#candidbontot#candid cutie#candid melayu#awektudung#awekbootcut
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Great Ancoats Street, Manchester.
#urr#nerr#it's#gonna#snerr#snow#sleet#midriff#kaftan?#bootcut#flares#70s#00s#jeans and a t-shirt#cowboy boots#cowgirl boots#candid#street style#Gary Lineker#Manchester#goodnight
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awek bootcut buat live 💦💦🤪
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redrawing old art when i feel like shit is my favorite past time. consider it the next time you also feel like shit <3
#fan art#resident evil#claire redfield#resident evil code veronica#high waisted bootcut jeans choker biker jacket my girl has it all
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i like drawing him w big pants :]c 💚
#taking bootcut hc to it's logical extreme...#satan if he liked westerns more than detective stories#i find it kindof cute#satan#belphie#obey me
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he really was out here with his whole hog wasn’t he
#i am mouthing him through his white bootcut lululemon leggings#just sucking the head a little it’s fine#cardinal copia#copia#the band ghost
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AINT NOBODY TOLD ME NOTHINGGGG
#ooohhh tashi would hate the south but man oh man#would she look phenomenal in a pair of bootcut jeans#a little tee shirt#the hat oh i need to sit down
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'Sup Guys 👋☺️ How are you all?
#me#selfie#leo#hair#brunette#selca#body#body positive#body positivity#ootd#levi strauss#bootcut jeans#tshirt#how's it going#how are you guys
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Kalau berminat boleh pm.
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Zodiac but it’s not months it’s pants
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sapa nak full koleksi 4 min boleh pm
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arghhhhh 😋😋😋💦💦
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“Come on!” Jen giggles, “Just one! One little eeny-weeny teeny puff!”
“No! Get it away!”
With one hand locked behind my neck, she tries to slot a joint into my mouth. I gently but firmly peel her hands off me. “This is the textbook definition of peer pressure.”
“Oh, you should tell your parents what’s happening to you. They’ll think I’m evil.”
“They already half think that.”
“Come on!”
“I’ll vomit.”
“You might not this time. It might be different.”
“There’s something deeply insane about that statement.”
“Here!” Shane interjects, holding his hand out for the joint. “Give it to me, sure it’s only wasted on him.” He pops it between his lips, and when he smokes it, the end crackles, a dot of smouldering light in the dark.
Standing around watching my friends get stoned has been a regular fixture of the summer. We spend most of these long, lazy evenings hanging out in some unkempt corner of the caravan park, where the sun’s warmth lingers on the fractured tarmac and damp beach towels are drying over the wire fence around the tennis court.
Last night, some man in his thirties complained that our chatting was disturbing his kids’ bedtime and that he could smell the weed smoke inside his caravan. Except he didn’t call it weed. He called in ganja, and when he went back inside, we snickered about it until he hissed out of the window that he was going to phone the police.
So tonight I am standing around watching my friends get stoned in town instead. It took me forty-five minutes to cycle in to meet them, and my reward for that is the ends of the Chinese takeaway that they didn’t finish and a wonky joint being forced into my mouth.
“Fuck, that’s shite,” Shane hacks out a bone-dry cough, and he pushes the joint towards Joe, who has the temerity to look offended. “Hey! My brother sold me that.”
“Did your brother fish it out of that bin at the back of the chipper?”
Joe smokes it to prove a point. “It’s lovely,” he insists, eyes watering, “I think that’s… that’s actually the nicest weed I ever had.”
“It tastes of stale crackers.”
“My brother wouldn’t sell me bad stuff! Don’t say that about-” his eyes bulge and he breaks off into wheezing coughs, doubling over with a hand clutching at his throat, “Okay, right enough,” he manages as we passively watch him struggle, “it’s a bit dry.”
Kasper is waving in the distance, doing a little half-run across the pedestrian crossing. He’s coming back from the off licence with a school bag packed so full of cans that he hasn’t been able to zip it up all the way.
“I saw Liam,” He says, eyes dancing as though he has spotted a cryptid in the woods, “And girlfriend eating at restaurant.”
“Just now?” Jen says.
“Yes, five minutes.”
They must be on a date. I wonder did he ask her to his debs. I wonder if she said yes. I wonder why I am invested.
“Oh! Cute! Maybe they’ll come and hang out.” She produces her flip phone and begins texting.
“No,” Shane protests with a waving hand, “Don’t. Don’t invite them.”
“Too late. I’ve asked her.”
“No. It’s weird! I don’t want her to see me stoned.”
“She knows you smoke weed.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Well, she’s about to find out.”
My stomach does strange things at the thought of seeing Evie again. It’s ridiculous and makes little sense because she’s just some random girl who hangs out with Kelly Healy. It would be easier to dismiss this sensation as weird hunger pangs if I hadn’t eaten less than half an hour ago, so instead, I conclude I am experiencing a sudden onset anxiety disorder and concentrate on ignoring it.
When she arrives about fifteen minutes later, I ignore the feeling even harder. She is smiling, but Liam is not. He drags his feet behind her, pointedly miserable, while Evie drifts over and hugs Jen, oblivious to him.
I’m there too, somehow, holding out my arms to hug her. I make sure it’s brief, because I am still somewhat attempting to be nice to Liam, and suspect he considers my touching or looking at Evie in any way to be bullying. I give him that awkward, closed-lip smile afterwards, and he does the same in return.
The smell of Evie’s jasmine shampoo lingers in my nose even after she is gone.
“What happened to your face?” Shane asks her. She goes pink and wipes a knuckle under her eye. “Nothing happened. Kelly did my makeup.”
A laugh bubbles from his lips. “Well, you look mad.”
All I noticed was the dark makeup on her eyes and some lipstick. It’s not exactly shocking stuff.
Jen rolls her eyes as she takes the joint from Joe. “Don’t mind him. You look lovely as usual.” She takes a long, luxurious drag. “You want?”
“Ah, no. She can’t have any,” Shane pushes Jen’s arm away. “I wouldn’t let Evie do any of this stuff. She’s only a baby.”
Jen doesn’t rest, she just swings her arm to Liam instead. “How about you?” And I wonder if the quality is really so bad that she’s offering it to him. I feel it’s just as good in the rubbish bin. Smirking, I catch eyes with Evie, who is trying her hardest to look serious, and wonder if she is thinking about the story I told her about him at the gallery yesterday. The memory of her guilty laughter makes me feel like I might lose my cool completely.
Liam brushes some curls across his forehead and straightens up haughtily. “No thanks. I’m probably not going to stay for long, anyway. I have to get up at six for work.” He takes his phone out of his jeans. “Actually, I think I’m going to text my dad to come and get me now, so if you want a lift, Evie, you can come.”
“No,” she says, a little too quickly. “I think I’m going to stay.”
His brow furrows. “Will you just get a taxi then or what?”
“We’ll get her home safely,” I say, and a rigidity comes over Liam. He won’t look at me, and a muscle pops in his cheek.
“Will you? But sure, you’re all stoned.”
“I’m not. She’ll be fine with us.”
“Okay,” he says, though it’s clear it’s not at all, but what does he expect? You can’t exactly force a girl who is so clearly repelled by your presence to hang out with you. In fact, Evie spends the next half hour chit-chatting with Jen and ignoring him while he sulks in the background, waiting for his dad to collect him. When he leaves they exchange awkward goodbyes, and she continues as she was, as though she’s already forgotten he was with her. I should probably feel bad for him, but I am oddly triumphant.
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#lucky boy 2010#LMAO Liam's shoes#idk how universal this is but loads of teenage boys here only have one 'nice' pair of shoes and it's the pair they wear with their uniform#so actually not nice at all#usually slip-on and scuffed#but around this time you still needed a certain dress code to enter some establishments#so the brown shoe/bootcut jeans combo lives on#irish fashion history for you#i can tell you more about the bootcut jeans that were leather from the knee down too#tw: drugs#tw: alcohol
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satans!💚
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