♢ dean pinched the bridge of his nose, furrowing his brows as he looked at the other. “it’s not that bad, REALLY.” he muttered, but his expression spoke otherwise. leave it to dean to close-fist punch the only girl who had been thrown into the mosh pit. he sat down next to her, pulling ice out of his solo cup and wrapping it in a paper-towel. “this is the best we can do here.” 

long mornings and longer thoughts

he was a king.

this was the year he was going to die.

may or may not have spent my entire sunday finding obscure indie movies to steal clips from to make this video. idk, you can’t prove anything.