ᴛʜᴇ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ !

 i know i've made enemies, i know i should be scared of them, but i'm NOT. they don't scare me anymore. why? because nothing scares me more than myself. ----------------- indie crime oc. selective and private. written by devin.

[falsifiier-blog]

♡  for a starter !!

[delustive]

[just-shower-thoughts]

We’re not supposed to pick up hitch-hikers because they may be serial killers. However, serial killers often pick up and kill hitch-hikers. Therefore, has a serial killer ever picked up another serial killer and did they become best friends?

[falsifiier-blog]

propensiity.

          dakota has been in the dark the same as victor —— it’s hard to find something out about your boyfriend when even he doesn’t know. however, dakota never bothered to think there was anything out of the ordinary about victor’s life. parents lie to their children, families are weird, all that other good stuff. not once has dakota bothered to get to know more about victor’s family.

          when they parted ways years ago, dakota had forgotten plenty of things about victor anyway. not because he wanted to, but because he had to —— at the time, the thought of victor had been too much to bear. things were difficult, and it took years for him to really get over the older male. despite this, he UNDERSTOOD. dakota might not have been close to his own parents, but he knew victor was close to his mother. he always had been.

          when he calls victor five or six time and the other doesn’t pick up, dakota grows worried. he knows victor gets wrapped up in his work, but he’ll usually pick up around the third or fourth time. after six times with no answer, dakota feels sick to his stomach. he sets out towards the other’s apartment, hands in his pockets and his head down, trying to keep the worst out of his thoughts.

          there’s nothing that could have prepared him for seeing the other on the ground, cheeks stained with tears. behind dakota the door closes and he makes his way to victor. he kneels beside the other, carefully brushing the hair from his face. should he comfort first && ask questions later ?

          ❝ no, baby, i didn’t. ❞ dakota’s voice is soft as he moves to sit on his knees. he takes a deep breath, moving to take the other’s hand in his own. his thumb moves slowly over victor’s knuckles, his eyes searching his face until he looks away.  ❝ what happened ? ❞

          a part of victor wants to scream. scream and last out and let out everything he’s feeling, which is quite a lot. how is one supposed to react when they find out that their dead mother hid so much -- no, EVERYTHING -- from them? there’s a fury inside of him that wants nothing more than to chuck the two boxes in front of him out the window and never look at them again.

          except he won’t do that. the other part of victor, the part that is usually curious and never stopping just -- can’t breathe. it feels like he’s not getting enough air, like he’s slowly chocking on his own tongue. there’s a sense of shame rinsing over him because who spends over three decades not knowing anything about themselves ?? for someone who prides themselves on being good at finding out information, he never did know much about his own family.

          he can’t look at dakota, can’t meet his eye but he also can’t move away, grounding himself in his touch. in the past hour, he’s found out that everything his mother told him, down to his last name, was a lie. he can’t help but ask himself what else is a lie, which is a slippery slope to go down because he can’t take much more of this, much more of this ‘is this real’ game his mother has left him to play.

          he can’t quite stop the tears from coming out, but also isn’t sobbing anymore ( the word ‘shock’ goes through his mind briefly, but he can’t explain why ) so he takes it as a good thing. it takes him a second to reach out to the box and pick up his mother’s birth certificate, the first paper he had spotted in the boxes. his hand is extremely shaky as he shows it to dakota but then again, so is the rest of him.

          ❝ margaret grace, you know who that is ?? ❞ fat tears roll down his cheeks as he talks, but he barely notices them. ❝ she was a sixteen year old runaway from upstate new york. some people thought she was pregnant, which would explain why she’d run away. ❞ he’s talking about this as if it was just another case but it’s clear from just how shaken he is that it isn’t. ❝ that’s my mom, dakota. maggie collins never existed. she LIED to me my whole life. ❞ there’s a lot more to it but his voice cracks and he drops the paper, hands barely able to hold themselves up.

[archettypes]

The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[depeziduri]

[themajesticowl-deactivated20180]

My father broke my heart long before any boy had the chance to.

(via foxrps)

[subreid]

i’d live on the moon probably except i think i’d miss the moonlight  - r.s.

[kidrauhlfeatbieber]

This is beautiful!

[zacheryabels-blog]

[evansbrewster-deactivated201503]

[falsifiier-blog]

          when he was young, victor’s mom didn’t tell him much about the life she had before he was born. she didn’t like talking about it and would always try to give victor answers that would get him to stop asking and if he asked too much, she would cry. in time, he stopped asking questions because if there was one thing he hated, it was to see his mother cry.

           when she passed away, victor’s life fell apart. he didn’t know what to do with himself and he ended up breaking ties with everyone in town ( dakota included ) and just left. he didn’t mean to, yet everything reminded him of her and he was scared he’d end up the same way as her.

          before he left, he emptied out the apartment the apartment that had one been theirs. it was easy, most of it going in the garbage or goodwill pile before he took off. his mom’s old clothes? goodwill. that drawer they left filled with random stuff? garbage. it was a long process but he refused to let anyone help him, because this was the last time he knew he’d feel close to his mom.

          before he left, he’d found two boxes under his mother’s bed. at the time, he was too upset to look through them and just assumed it was old receipts, maybe some tax forms he’d need because he knew they had always had trouble with money. so he put the boxes in his car and he drove off and no one ever asked to see any papers so he forgot about the boxes, left to pick up dust in his apartment like everything else.

          it’s been years since he thought about those boxes. they’d never seemed important to him, so he forgot where he even got them. as his career as a journalist picked up, the boxes got mixed up with every other box of evidence that found its way into his home. they laid forgotten until today, opened by mistake because they happened to look exactly like two other boxes.

          that’s how dakota finds him, sitting crossed legged on the floor, face streaked with tears that have yet to dry, furrowed brow as he looks through the content for the first time in his life. god, he wishes he never opened those boxes.

          ❝ did you know i was born in new york ?? i didn’t. ❞ his voice is extremely shaky, just like the rest of him as he tries to make a joke that falls flat when he finally notices the other male. he tries to wipe his eyes and act like everything’s fine, but his eyes simply well up more and he has to look away, has to look away from dakota before he starts sobbing again.

@propensiity + a way too long starter you didn’t even ask for !!

[falsifiier-blog]

propensiity.

          dakota has always been a party person. he doesn’t go there to get fucked up, really, but there’s something about the VIBE that he’s always loved. there’s something about the people, too. parties have always been dakota’s scene && they always will be. parties are where he’s comfortable. 

          he could spot the other a mile away, really. his crush has always been one that couldn’t be ignored. there is something about the older male that just —— gets to him. dakota isn’t sure what it is ( he’s never liked someone this long. ) the attention he receives from the other is slim to none, and he hates it. after all, if dakota isn’t getting UNDIVIDED attention from someone, he’s never particularly interested. 

          a brow raises in question when he hears that ( mostly ) familiar voice. he turns, glancing in the male’s direction before looking around the room. if he leaves, he figures he won’t be missing much. 

                   ❝ yeah, i do. like, as soon as possible. ❞

         he’s not sure where any of this is from, he could have easily ducked out without having said a word to dakota and his night would have been just fine. he could’ve gone home by himself and just gone to bed, like he’d planned but seeing the other’s face just -- changed his mind.

          victor doesn’t move his hand away when dakota turns, small smile still playing on is features as he looks at the other. his response only makes him smile wider, fishing for his keys in his jacket pocket and pulling them out to show dakota, tentatively letting his hand drop to take his hand ( he doesn’t intertwine their fingers and he certainly doesn’t think about it ). 

          there’s a quick flash of a smile to the people the other was talking to before victor steals him away, tugging at his hand to make him follow. his car is just out front on the curb and they’re only about ten minutes from his place, which is empty since his mom works night. he waits until they’re outside to speak again.

                    ❝ didn’t expect to see you tonight. ❞

[combatsituation-blog]

bo burnham sentence starters.

obviously, if you know who comedian bo burnham is, you’ll know his work is satire frequently but this meme features slurs (sexist), and yeah. i shouldn’t have to explain that this is nsfw and probably should not be reblogged if you’re easily offended.

I want you like J.F.K. wanted …. a car with a roof. 

You’re playing with your breasts, excuse me, can I try it ma'am? You’re pushin’ ‘em together like a titty venn diagram.

Met a girl named Macy – had sex with her all day, but she was dyslexic, so I ended up doing the YMCA.  

Swallow, bitch, there’s people starving in Africa.

I’ll slime you so hard you could be on Nickelodeon.

“Hey, if you really believe that, why don’t you use some of your money to help rebuild the neighborhood instead of putting spinning rims on a gold jet ski?“ And to that I say… Uh.

I hate my life and it hates me back.

Your mother’s breasts sag with such severity that the late, great surrealist artist Salvador Dali mistook them for clocks.

Bono, if you want to help poor people, sell your tinted shades, you cunt. 

In the name of the father, son and holy ghost, head, shoulders, knees and toes – turn up your nose, strike that pose. Hey, Macarena!

The average penis length is 5-and-a-half inches, and finally, the average penis length of a man who Googles “average penis length” is 3-and-a-half inches.

There’s other people, you selfish asshole.

I’m a real G-shawty that can really find your G-spot …provided that you point me in the general direction.

I met a homeless man named Rich – he wasn’t.

I saw an old man get hit by a train, he didn’t see it in the pouring rain, he didn’t hear me shout, “look out for the train!“ 'cause I didn’t say anything.

ART IS A LIE, NOTHING IS REAL.

I went to a store looking for something to buy but they only sold paintings of the same sad guy, no, wait – this store sells mirrors.

That’s it, laughter, it’s the key to everything, it’s the way to solve all the sadness in the world.

The world isn’t sad. The world’s funny! I’m a sociopath!

I saw an old man slip and fall-hey, what a fucking idiot!

And then they’ll be gone and then you’ll be aware of that hole in your heart that that dumb slut left there.

What the fuck did I do last night? I cried myself to sleep.

I like the word poop cause when you say poop your mouth does the same motion your butthole does when it poops.

I just- I internalize my feelings a lot. I have trouble articulating how I’m feeling to other people.

So, basically, you’re still a little bitch.

I like oreos and pussy – yes, in that order!

I want her to trust me and I just want her to- how do I say this- sit on my face!

You think you know everything but you don’t know anything at all.

Well, according to my calculations, I’m sorry, let me run the numbers again, um, you’re a pussy.

The people in my life are like grains of sand 'cause they stick together, often near my butt hole.

If Jesus can walk on water, can he swim on land?

Art is a harlot and I am her sassy urban friend.

Mmm, bitch, why you being so selfish?

If life makes you wish you were dead, just put on a good movie, then promptly put a bullet in your head.

I love your eyes and their blueish brownish greenish color.

Um, I know we never talked or hung out ever, but um… I think that’s what made our friendship so special.

Anyway, you wanna buy some weed?

You’ve got sticks and stones to turn to but I’ve got words to hurt you, so, save your bullets cause you’re fucked.

Your life peaked at graduation, well, congratu-fucking-lations.

I was reading while you were fucking the prom queen.

Pick one of these cards, and memorize it – then go fuck yourself!

Is there anything better than pussy? Yes, a really good book.

Oh sweet, my keys! Oh sweet, the remote! Oh sweet, my wallet! Oh sweet, my mom’s ashes!

And here I am, trying to take a shit in privacy!

Do you like Vampire Weekend? 

Nah, fuck that hipster shit!

I’m so happy!

Dear glove compartment, get a new name CAUSE NO ONE WEARS GLOVES ANYMORE.

Don’t you hate it when you have to poop, but you can’t? Cause you’re not in the bathroom?

Don’t you hate it when you call your girlfriend and she’s like “for the last time, I’m not your girlfriend, we met once at a party, how did you get this number”?

The world is not funny, Guy Fieri owns two functioning restaurants.

You wanna be happy, well, get in line.

God only knows why he cursed me to be a straight white male.

But you can’t say my life is easy until you’ve walked a mile in my uggs.

Good girl in a straw hat with her arms out in a corn field: that is a scarecrow.

It’s a fucking scarecrow again!

Say the word “Truck” and they jizz in their overalls.

You might think this person only exists in your mind and guess what: you’re right!

You might think your dick is gift but I promise it’s not.

If you search for moral wisdom in Katy Perry’s lyrics, then kill yourself.

Honestly, are you fucking five?

NO! BUT SEE I THINK THE ISSUE IS I’VE GOT MY FATHERS TEMPER AND I’M EMOTIONALLY INARTICULATE! SO RATHER THAN BEING HONEST AND VULNERABLE, I’VE DONE A QUICK SWITCH BECAUSE I’M HURTING INSIDE AND I’M TRYING TO HIDE IT, SO EAT A DICK, BITCH!

YOU THINK THREE LOUSY TEARS OFFSETS THREE YEARS OF SHIT?

What I’m trying to say is the diameter of Pringle cans is way too small.

Do you fucking think I want a messy burrito? No one wants a messy burrito.

I’ll blow my dad before I eat a burrito with a fork.

On a scale from one to zero, are you happy?

But what the fuck kind of question is “Am I happy?”

You’re everything you hated, are you happy?

[alleyspata-deactivated20170924]

bloody lip kisses did you mean

👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀👌👀 good shit go౦ԁ sHit👌 thats ✔ some good👌👌shit right👌👌there👌👌👌 right✔there ✔✔if i do ƽaү so my self 💯 i say so 💯 thats what im talking about right there right there (chorus: ʳᶦᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ) mMMMMᎷМ💯 👌👌 👌НO0ОଠOOOOOОଠଠOoooᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒᵒ👌 👌👌 👌 💯 👌 👀 👀 👀 👌👌Good shit

[hanshenrykcd]

[patroqlus]