#gangerbitch

i don't get where anyone was fucking polite about anything dealing with this ??????????? like honestly. everyone's been rude as fuck.

people like to believe what they want to, even if it isn’t true. 

but perhaps you weren’t able to see those who actually were polite because their points were said with a whisper while the others were yelled from the rooftops with just about as much grace as.. well, something extremely not graceful. 

i turned both my phone & my head. bc u kno that makes sense.

Damon waltzed in through the door like he owned the place, taking his time navigating the dark, overheated space, music pounding from the speakers on the walls. Despite it being in the middle of the week, it was nearly full. The smell of sweat and sex and desperation was a tangible thing on the air. No one was here to look to the future, choosing instead to indulge in the ever flowing drinks, scantily-clad women, and pursuit of personal pleasure.

Other than a lean, leggy blonde who was kind enough to pour him his first glass of the evening, Damon had yet to be approached by anyone.  He was bored and hungry; not quite up for a fight, at least not yet, and here he knew he wouldn’t get that. A warm, willing body would come to him sooner or later, and so he made himself comfortable on a velvet couch, arms languidly spread on either side of his frame as he leaned back. Appraising the dancers on the stages, he saw nothing but skin ━ skin like thin paper easily torn asunder, skin with hot, freshly piping blood pumping just underneath the surface.