#fucking nice
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godwantsit Ā· 1 year ago
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sharkenedfangs Ā· 6 months ago
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ā€” ā˜† ā€œSPIRALLING CYCLE ā€” I MEET YOU HERE, AGAIN.ā€
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#. ā€” synopsis. sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but yā€™know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if heā€™ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.
#. ā€” content warning! angst with some eventual comfort at the end, mentions of physical abuse here and there, substance abuse with alcohol, shit household overall, negative self-perception, a groggy whitney and a glimpse of his life through his own lens.
#. ā€” word count? 2.5k
#. ā€” extra extra! ashes snippets : ā€œtoo embarrassing to vent about my problems, so why donā€™t I make blondie here, experience it instead? except all ends well with him and not with me.ā€
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Dappled sunlight faintly seeping through the silken blinds, smoothly draped over the glassy windows to tenderly kiss at Whitneyā€™s drooping eyelids, tiredly shut away from numerous attempts at resting. Sleep, his initial intention, the original plan impulsively made ahead or so he had promised, but yā€™know, sleep can be a bitch sometimes and damn it all if heā€™ll ever truly receive it for real, this time.
ā€˜Course, today or specially last night, it hadnā€™t discreetly knocked at his awaiting door nor contentedly graced him with a visit of its own, therefore, here he is. Stupidly awake at the crack ass of dawn and consciously aware of the ticking clock signalling the approaching hour, dizzying, red lines mundanely staring back at him to readily showcase the eventual obligation heā€™s stubbornly set upon himself. Fuck. If he doesnā€™t soon get out of this shitty hellhole life has bitterly stuck him with, then the occasional pebbles clumsily thrown against his rattling bed window will be sure to stir the other bitch up.
Said bitch probably awkwardly sprawled along the used couch, rusty springs threatening to pop free underneath the stitched mattress due to the sheer pressure of their sleazy form resting atop of it. Beer bottle drunkenly discarded forth from their loose grasp, hanging limply below to paint a grimy picture heā€™s been greeted with time and time again. Just stinkinā€™ up the fuckinā€™ place at this point, but whoā€™s he to make the shots on that? Bitter son of the house and heā€™s acutely familiar with what that position entails. Say the slightest word and heā€™ll be good to go explore the shadowed streets, end up at that shoddy brothel worst case scenario.
Takinā€™ all the damn space though, as it had been repetitively affirmed before, he should be fuckinā€™ near grateful he even possesses a space of his own ā€” no matter how cramped it may well be. No matter how suffocating the bleak walls gradually narrowing in on his curled frame may be sickeningly tight around his dry throat.
Speaking of, heā€™s getting thirsty here and so are the impatiently growing, muffled shouts of his gang aimlessly straying along the bricked wall of his apartment, boringly kicking at chipped rocks to pass the excruciatingly long stretch of time heā€™s taking to get the fuck up. Fine. Dirtied blonde, messy haired boy here, sā€™got the message sent his way. Stifled groan easily slipping its way past his chapped lips, instinctively yearning for the nearest source of a fresh, preferably cold drink to quench his endless thirst annoyingly itching at the back of his throat. Old, dinky fridgeā€™s gotta be somewhere here, fuckā€” the kitchen. Obviously, dipshit.
Becoming as dumb as the fuckers you hang out with which are the only dumbasses to mindlessly follow him along wherever he so pleases, huffing and puffing like a group of stray mutts pitifully pawing at its owners feet for some much needed attention. Well, theyā€™re not receiving it anytime soon, far too preoccupied with searching for some fuckinā€™ waterā€” shit, even beer will do, even if it sets him on the same level as that drunken piece of shit to be greedily swallowing down alcohol early in the morning.
Groggy footsteps steadily dragging him towards the stretched hallway, memory settling in thickly as per usual, his feet automatically straying away from the creaking floorboard heā€™s known to soundlessly creak beneath the slightest weight. Donā€™t wanna wake the fucker upā€” doesnā€™t have the patience nor probably the maturity to properly deal with ā€˜em face on, specially when the oddly warming sun has recently risen.
No, heā€™s not a goddamn coward, just too good of a bastard to waste his precious time he mostly spends on fooling around doinā€™ nothing. Anything will do as long as it isnā€™t spent in this stifling flat where recollection beckons him in turn and crappy guilt forcibly gnaws at the bruised flesh of his slouched back. Coward? No, he says ā€” but, his subconsciousness subtly whispers out otherwise. Liar.
Marble set in stone, routine playing out as faithfully expected by the absentminded tugging of his sweats, idly scratching at his balls beneath the cotton material all the while reaching for whatever catches his eye in the flickering light. Stupid bulb that never got fixed is really gonā€™ have him punch the fuckinā€™ ceiling one day, knowing better than to do so, instead tentatively taking a swig of a cooling bottle of.. something. Definitely strong with how it pleasantly burns within the pit of his churning stomach, momentarily soothes the doubts away in his chattering mind. If only the intoxicatingly warm effects of alcohol were eternalā€” Scratch that. The blonde knows life would be shit regardless, but at least you get to be drunk while doinā€™ it.
Hell, if it kills him, all the more better actually. A sullying stain dreadfully misplaced upon this shit world now rightfully wiped away, like he had never existed to begin with, fuck. Everyone wins if the troubling delinquent causing problems ā€˜round town cleanly kicks the bucket off, randomly dies in some stinky ditch somewhere in the darker alleyways as God wouldā€™ve had fuckinā€™ intended anyway. If there is one, for that matter. Because at the end of the day, heā€™s just some boy with a troubled mind and split knuckles bloodied up from previous fights ā€” donā€™t know which exactly, heā€™s lost count by now. And, this make-believe deity the deluded temple has carefully fabricated isnā€™t going to spare his ass one bit for the awful sins committed by him, or so the stuck-up nuns keep repeatedly preaching to him whenever they catch sight of dirty filth.
Walking further down the elongated hallā€” itā€™s funny, place isnā€™t even that damn big in comparison to the ones out on Danube Street, yet practically feels like itā€™s eating him out from the inside with every careful step taken. Get the fuck out, get the fuck out of here before he groggily wakes up, not that theyā€™d possibly care for his absence or presence when it doesnā€™t mean two shits to ā€˜em if he fails school, but does he give a shit if Whitney so much as bothers ā€˜em in any shape or form. Intentionally or accidentally, he claims, all results in the same exact scenario. A purplish bruise painfully etched across his wobbly limbs, bound to leave a residing mark. Bloodied, fucked up nose trickling out scarlet stains for his tongue to messily swipe against later, taste the metallic residue in his mouth as reminder for his actions. Serves him right.
Having gotten the harsh lesson driven into him, body naturally adapting to seek an escape of any kind, finally pausing at the sight of the wooden door with the jiggling chain left unloosed. Fuck, didnā€™t even lock the damn door? Saves him the gruelling effort of having to deliberately sneak amongst the heap of dirtied laundry riddled onto the ground, notably remembering the fact he canā€™t go prancing around outside half-naked. When you forget one fuckinā€™ detailā€”
Sure, this is the town where you get repeatedly raped on a regular basis to the point where no local resident even bats an eye to the supposedly, morally wrong act ā€” which they never actually take a stance against, fuck if he cares ā€” however, last thing Whitney wants is to instantly draw attention to himself already as it is. Yeah, the urging temptation is there, shivering jolt passing throughout his spine at the mere thought, but heā€™s not in that particular mood. No, not right now. Blatantly ignoring the sickening sight of his bulge visibly straining against his sweats, hot, leaking tip staining the greying fabric a darker shade. Morning wood, he supposes. Or just cuzā€™ heā€™s the type of guy to get high off of received attention when intentionally done.
Great coping mechanism for that affection youā€™ve never received early as a child, huh? Fuckinā€™ shut upā€” Goddamnit.
No point in sleazing ā€˜round here any further, not with the increasingly apparent risk at hand and the selflessly given opportunity to make his escape for the day. As always, his hasty departure goes unnoticed for the entirety of the upcoming hours, weeks would be a plausible period of time too with how unimportant his mere presence is at the shit hole one would reluctantly call ā€˜homeā€™. Shit, if it works in his favour, all the more better for him. Gets to roam as he so pleases all night and whoā€™s gonā€™ stop him for it? Yeah, thatā€™s right. Normalcy instilled within his mind that this is how it should be. A parent worried sick over his own rebellious child fooling along somewhere amongst the bustling streets filled with bums? Sure, like thatā€™ll happen.
While youā€™re out here daydreaming over stupid shit, why donā€™t yā€™a throw some clothes on? Idiot.
What else to wear than a plain, white shirt, which he somehow isnā€™t directly in any possession of at the moment. Merely leaving him with the sole option to steal a flitting glance towards the limited closet shut at his side. Thing isnā€™t going to squeak too loud if he delicately opens it, right? Better fuckinā€™ not. Itā€™s in the blondeā€™s inborn nature to be instinctively rough, though discretion is a useful skill heā€™s conveniently learned when stuck in sticky situations like these, specifically. Cautious palms placed against the hatch, soundlessly sliding the door open to give way to the few attires hidden in the confined space.
Ah, there it fuckinā€™ is. His scruffy leather jacket hung upon the metallic hook, sewed patches prominent around the torn edges of his sleeve from the wear and tear accumulated over the passing time. Shit quality, but itā€™s ultimately his alone to wear. And, fuck it if heā€™ll wear it with pride no matter how used it appears to the naked eye.
Swiftly slipping on the cheap garment before momentarily regarding the broken zipper loosely hanging at the hem of the leathered cloth. Thing just had to wordlessly give up on him at the crappiest of times with the seasons progressively shifting to a cooler weather, chilling breeze bound to have his bare frame subtly shivering underneath the thick material. Likewise, heā€™ll manage somehow. Doesnā€™t he always?
Maybe if it was any other day, he wouldā€™ve taken a second more to consciously scrutinize his sharp features dimly reflected in the dirtied mirror, visibly scowl back at the glassy surface displaying the very thing he hates to deathā€” Not today, however. No, plan already dully simmering within the tight confines of his mind, action he willingly chose to take.
So scandalous in every sense of the word that stupid olā€™ church boy Sydney here wouldā€™ve profusely reprimanded him of such wrongdoings, frantically swat away at the revolting notion he was fully ready to carry out. Hah, makes him unconsciously smirk to envision his shocked expression paired by the quivering squirms of his fist tightening around that annoying, red pen. ā€˜S it so ā€˜disgracefulā€™ to a goody-two shoes with an easygoing life like him?
Guess itā€™s time to openly show him what piles of shit like Whitney someday, end up at. Barely sparing one forgetful glimpse to the cluttered dump he has to regrettably live in, a flimsy goodbye thatā€™s less of a ā€˜good-byeā€™ than a good riddance sort of gesture. Heā€™s not one to be sentimental, regardless. That crap is for fuckinā€™ snotty losers like the tearful orphans he regularly corners in the shady alleyways near the orphanage, choked up pleads falling on deaf ears when his knuckles disgustingly crack against the beaten flesh. A means of distraction for what heā€™s gotta lamentably endure on the daily. If heā€™s gotta suffer then, might as well bring a goddamn couple of nosey brats down with him too. Shit excuse and he knows it, doesnā€™t stop him from doing it either way.
Rushing past the creaking door, forcibly slamming it shut solely to spite the surrounding neighbours sleepily soaking in the approaching dawn, jolt their dumbasses awake as he laughs it off with a resounding snicker and of course, not to forgetā€” his boldened signature move of a straight ā€˜fuck youā€™ shot in the windows direction. Whoever may fuckinā€™ see it by chance, may they remember that snide grin and those golden locks of hair messily tumbling forth to obscure his gleaming eyes. Cocky boy causing trouble, the first name to be softly whispered when an incident occurs on the local streets, Whitney. Yeah, they better fuckinā€™ hammer that name into their hardened skulls. Yell it out to the goddamn world.
ā€œWhitney! Hey! Over here!ā€
Fucking hellā€” He totally forgot those morons were still loyally waiting for his eventual arrival out here in this icy weather, freezing their asses off tillā€™ he got out of the house or flat, whatever they call it. Fists snugly shoved in his pocket jeans, freshly lit cigarette already comfortably tucked between his lips to then appreciatively take a slow inhale of the fag before casually exhaling out a puff of smoke to meld with the cooling air.
ā€œFuckinā€™ idiots. Youā€™re still here? Scram, Iā€™m not in the mood.ā€ Barely hiding the faintest traces of a smirk creeping on his lips at the sight of his gang appearing like a bunch of stray dogs without him in the middle, where he rightfully belongs. Fine, heā€™s in somewhat of a good mood right now. Why not play nice? ā€œWhatever, you guys can come if you want. I donā€™t give two fucks either way, just donā€™t fuckinā€™ start with that dumb shit again from last time or Iā€™ll dump your asses in the nearest river and watch you fuckers freeze to death.ā€ Classic tactic of ā€˜I actually want you to come and if you donā€™t, Iā€™ll kill yā€™a.ā€™
Holding back the snicker thatā€™d ease past him once they gleefully raise their heads to meet his serious gaze, implying that he isnā€™t jokingā€” he means it. Really does.
ā€œSee, whatā€™d I tell yā€™a? Heā€™d be happy to see usā€”ā€ One naively chirps up while the other simply smacks their head in retaliation, puffing and crossing their arms in turn. ā€œFuck off! If it werenā€™t for your genius idea to stand outside in the freezing cold, my hands wouldnā€™t be fucking turning blue by now, yā€™a cunt!ā€
ā€œOh, shut up! If you hadnā€™t complained the whole goddamn way then maybeā€”ā€œ
Usual banter ensuing as per usual, told those fuckers not to do it and they still do. Hah, what the hell did he expect in the end? Wistfully sighing out to his warning being plainly ignored, hands coming up to run along the golden strands of hair in an easing habit to soothe the headache heā€™s getting from merely listening to ā€˜em. Head drooping lowly in a half-assed attempt at covering his widening smile threatening to fuck the whole act up. Bunch of freaks, arenā€™t they? His gang, though.
Which heā€™ll never concede to, no. Canā€™t have ā€˜em know heā€™s secretly grateful for their constant presence and insistent tugging for him.
ā€œCmon, you morons. Pubā€™s still open till midnight and Iā€™ve got a fuck ton of money to spend from that slut. Drinks are on me this time, you better be grateful Iā€™m sparing yā€™a a penny.ā€
No, he canā€™t possibly admit the simple fact that they make the difficult things in his shitty life, slightly more bearable.
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caninecowboy Ā· 2 years ago
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spent the whole day cleaning out my likes dear lord
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puppyeared Ā· 3 months ago
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filipina miku!! my mom helped me with her outfit ^_^
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freakmodesworld Ā· 1 month ago
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teaboot Ā· 12 days ago
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Okay so I'm a security guard, right
And part of why I like my job is cause I'm pretty good at deescalating conflicts without violence or police involvement
And that *might* be because my primary coping mechanism for stress is humor, and if the guy in the uniform isn't stressed out, usually nobody else is either
But anyhow today I witnessed a crime, which 911 had already been called for
And I'm telling the guy, you know, as he's running away, that nobody's gonna touch him, we don't do that here, I don't have any weapons and he can totally walk on out if he wants to
And he gives me this 'go-fuck-yourself" type answer, right? As you do
And I fucking
I fucking. Start danCING
I DONT KNOW WHY
I WAS JUST LIKE "aight guess I'll go fuck myself then, cheerio" AND START FUCKING DANCING
LIKE MY BRAIN WAS LIKE "Cool not being attacked, gotta keep the witnessed calm, gotta stay chill and breezy" AND THE PHYSICAL RESPONSE FOR THAT WAS TO SYART DOING THIS SASSY FUCKING JIG
I DIDNT EVEN REALIZR I WAS FDOUNG IT UNTIL SOMEONE POIU TED IT OUT AFTER
and it all ended fine and the dude is in custody and I get a call from my boss like "Yeah we're gonna need to send footage to police"
AND
FUCKING
THIS IS GOING TO BE SHOWN IN COURT SOMEWHERE
IM DOUNG A SRUPID LITTLE DANCE ON CAMERA AS THIS GUY LOSES HIS MIND AND ITS GONNA BE ON COURT SOMEWHERW
THIS IS THE STUPIDEST FUCKING THING IVE WVER DONE
I HATE MYSELFD
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superkramone Ā· 1 month ago
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šŸ”„
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benitobenavides Ā· 1 month ago
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šŸ”„šŸ”„šŸ”„
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enjoypictures Ā· 22 days ago
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freakmodesworld Ā· 17 days ago
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serenafun22698 Ā· 27 days ago
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Reblog if you like what you see,then we can have fun later šŸ˜˜šŸ’¦ šŸ’‹
Do you want to buy my Dorpbox or google drive?
Telegram@suzanna
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benitobenavides Ā· 1 month ago
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šŸ‘ā™„ļø
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freakmodesworld Ā· 24 days ago
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