and obviously cigarettes

Is There Somewhere?

Member: Taeyong 

Words: 2.2k without the lyrics.

Genre: angst, fluff, very very lowkey badboy!taeyong

Warnings: Mentions of smoking and drinking 

a/n: based on the song ‘is there somewhere’ by halsey, it’s a great song and i’d recommend you go listen to it!! :)

Originally posted by neotechs

‘You were dancing in your tube socks in our hotel room,

Flashing those eyes like highway signs’

“Come on, you said you were going to sleep!” Taeyong laughed, a melodious chuckle, the music to your dancing. 

“Nooo,” You drew out, liquor having taken away one too many of your inhibitions, no shame as you pout at Taeyong, continuing to twirl circles around your sober friend. “I don’t wanna” you slurred, giving your best pleading eyes at Taeyong. 

“Come on, it’s late, if you don’t go to sleep you’re going to have a hangover and be complaining for weeks,” He scolded, taking a hand in his to halt your flailing limbs. 

A surge of affection seemed to course through you, his hand the perfect feel against yours as you pulled him towards you. You felt a tight constricting feeling in your chest as Taeyong breathed down your neck, heartbeat seeming to cease at the simplicity of the closeness you shared. 

“Dance with me?” You implored, knowing full well his movements would be far more skilful than yours. Momentarily, your eyes met his, orbs full of softness and longing that it was hard not to get carried away in. 

“Just one dance.”

Keep reading


I guess he first lied to the police, but since the girl confessed to it, he was found out. It happened in October 2016. YG Ent. offered an official apology on his behalf.

Another BB member was tested and the result was negative.

TOP said he thought is was an ‘electronic cigarettes’ but obviously that’s a lie. He smoked it three times with a young woman/trainee.

I wish him the best. It seems as though he has had a tough few months.

The charge for marijuana use in South Korea is 60k$ and can be up to 5 years in prison…

Via (I am a VIP) (Facebook )


             “Can we not to talk about it? It’s not the right time.” you were arguing with Dean. For the last two weeks both of you often had a fight and today was the third times you had fight in this week. Your jaw hardened, holding back your anger. He was always like that, whenever you confront him, he always tried to run away. Instead of reassuring you like other boyfriend out there would do, he just walked passing you and busy tying his bow tie while checking the mirror.

              “No, I won’t let you just walk away from this problem! We need to talk, you always run away! Stop being coward and act like an adult!” you grabbed his arm, forcing him to stop whatever he did. 

               You looked at his eyes, trying to get the answer but there’s nothing you could find. He was no longer your warm and understanding boyfriend like he used to be, he was standing in front of you but you felt you both were falling apart. 

               Actually, debating and arguing wasn’t your style, yelling at each other wasn’t the way you solve your problem. You always decided to take the time, calming down yourself then talk later. But Dean’s insensitive and inconsiderate behavior was pushing you on the edge, it made you had no choice, confront him was only you could pull on act.

               “Y/n, stop. Calm yourself.” he sighed then reached your shoulder to calm you down but you swat his hand right away.

Keep reading

So this is a guck customers AND coworkers story, and happened a little while ago at my first retail job.

I was helping behind the counter (it was a small, local corner shop), when a women asks for a packet of cigarettes. She looks a little young, but good god, she got so angry! “What?! You think I’m under 18?! Look, here are my car keys, I’ve got a car! Just give me the cigarettes!”

Bearing in mind you can drive from the age of 17 (in the U.K., where I am), but you need to be 18 to buy cigarettes, and it’s Challenge 21 anyway. Then the kicker - “I’m PREGNANT, do you really think I’m under 18???”

And I mean, I’m not one to judge what people are buying, but if you’re trying to buy cigarettes - don’t use your pregnancy as supposed proof of your age!!! And all that made me really flustered, so I asked my coworker (an older woman, who’d worked in the industry for a while), but she just shrugged, like “you made the call, I’m not going to help you out here”.

In the end, I managed to (almost crying) make it clear that the customer would need ID to buy cigarettes. She obviously didn’t have it on her (or wasn’t 18 at all), so stormed out with the rest of her shopping. Laughed about it afterwards with coworker, but she was completely useless during the event.

TL;DR Don’t try and use your pregnancy as proof of age when buying cigarettes. Just… don’t.

myst-born-lord  asked:

What would be the effects on a young adults physical capabilities if they've been smoking (not heavily, but consistently) for 1 to 2 years?

Hey there nonny. Honestly, other than a decreased sense of smell and taste, and a little bit of aerobic capacity reduction, and being really stinky, there’s not much significant change in the short term

Basically, your character will be at their baseline. If they’re an athlete, they’ll be not quite as good as they should be. But if they’re just a human doing human things, it’s not a significant difference. 

The one caveat to this is if they already have some kind of lung disease, like asthma, which can definitely be triggered by cigarette smoke. 

Obviously the long-term effects of smoking are pretty freaking terrible, and include heart disease, asthma, COPD, and cancer, but someone who’s just started the habit won’t have much in the way of complications yet

Hope this helped! 

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


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The World is Vast (Thomas Brodie Sangster - Imagine)

AN: This is based off the video 30 Minutes Break by The Luka State and I strongly advise you watch it for a better understanding of this imagine. I wrote it as fluffy as I possibly could without turning it into a disgustingly cheesy and unrealistic mess.

The clacking of your heels on the ground was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. You dived your hands in the pockets of your jacket to keep you warm and hurried a bit to get home quickly. London. What a beautiful city, even at night. Apart from some groups of friends going out for the night and the sound of cabs, it was completely still. It might seemed a little creepy to be out there on your own when you’re a girl and you just arrived in a new city, but not to you. You found that oddly calming and reassuring. As if the world allowed you to have a break and appreciate silence and just think. You moved to London two weeks ago. You couldn’t even count how many times a stranger in a bar – sometimes even more than one in a night – asked you why you moved here. The truth is, there is no reason. You were just sick of where you used to live, you needed change. And something – though you haven’t found it yet – was drawing you here.

Finally, the slightly washed-out facade of your building appeared further down the street. Once again, you quickened your pace when you felt a drop of rain hit your forehead. It was a really humid night and you’d bet that your makeup was right about to leak everywhere on your face, making you look like you haven’t gone home for three days and your hair, messily put into a sort of deconstructed bun, was probably full of small rain drops. Yes, better hurry before the fashion police finds you. You let out a sigh of relief when you reached your apartment and began to climb the stairs. Eventually, you reached the third floor and opened your door. The unwelcoming darkness and the cold atmosphere in your small flat immediately made you wonder why you wanted to go back to this place in the first place, but then your eyes were caught by your reflection in the mirror. Nice. After turning on the heater, you got rid of your wet clothes and jumped into the shower, in great need of warming up, but you were greeted by ice-cold water. Someone used all the warm water.

“Fucking hell, it’s the second time this week!” You cursed as you hurriedly took you shower. When you were done you almost jumped in fresh clothes and rubbed your arms forcefully. You were still cold, though your blood was boiling in your veins. Suddenly, you jumped in surprise as you heard a loud thud coming from the apartment above, as if someone broke a glass of something. Out of your mind, you grabbed your shoes and your bag before going out, leaning over the balcony. Just when you were about grab a cigarette in your bag, you saw something fall from the balcony above you. Frowning, you leaned over the railing to take a look and you saw someone. A guy, most likely about your age, maybe a bit older. He was shirtless and every one of his breath drew small clouds of steam in the air, but when you looked at his face he seemed pissed, just like you. You stayed still for a couple of seconds, evaluating the situation before shrugging. You had nothing to lose.

Grabbing your stuff, you climbed the stairs leading to the fourth floor and walked towards the mysterious guy. It was only when you were a few steps away from him that you realized you had no idea what to say, but it turned out you didn’t need to.

“What are you doing here?” The boy asked, not even looking at her. His eyes looked straight in front of him, at nothing in particular. He then reached for the back pocket of his jeans and took out a cigarette. It reminded you of why you came out in the first place. You mimicked his gesture and grabbed a cigarette too, offering him your lighter when he was struggling to lit his own. Deciding that you wouldn’t be shy tonight, you chose attack as the best defense.

“I could ask you the same question, aren’t you freezing?” You questioned, sucking at your cigarette and inhaling the smoke. He seemed surprised by your change of behavior, since you looked slightly shy when you approached him. Eventually he looked at you and offered you a crooked smile. That’s when you saw that he was hurt. He had a cut near his left collarbone and his sides were covered in bruises.

“Nah, actually my blood is boiling,” he stated, a bit more friendly.

“Went into a fight?” You cocked your brow, making a little head move towards his abdomen.

“You should see the other guy,” he bragged a little, the smile on his face growing as he said that. “So, why’d you come here?” He asked again, but politely this time.

“Just moved in. Right under your flat,” you answered and tapped your cigarette to get rid of the ashes. “What ‘bout you?”

“My girlfriend doesn’t want me to smoke inside,” he said in a husky voice, making a clicking sound in the inside of his cheek when he said 'girlfriend’. Well, that explains the broken glass, they must have been arguing. Once again, his eyes drifted off into the pitch black night. That’s when you recalled you didn’t even know what time it was. Probably past midnight, though.

“That sucks, but at least you have a charming neighbor to make conversation, right?” You teased him, feeling yourself being filled with contentment when a smirk spread his face.

“I’m Thomas,” the boy faced you and offered you his hand to shake, his cigarette tucked between his thin lips.

“Y/N,” you answered, accepting his hand and smiling.

“So, does your boyfriend know you’re chattin’ up handsome strangers who were kicked out by their psychorigid girlfriend?” Thomas asked playfully, making you blush slightly, causing you to look away, faking to be captivated by a cat crossing the road.

“No, actually I just don’t like to smoke alone,” you shrugged, voluntarily skipping the boyfriend subject just to tease him. He seemed to notice your little game though and a mischievous smirk appeared once again on his face. It was only when he looked away that you allowed yourself to look at him. Although his bruises looked quite bad, they didn’t seem to bother him, nor did the cold October night. His wore a thin gold chain around his neck – looked like something he got from his girlfriend, boys don’t just buy jewelry on their own. He was pretty tall – but you weren’t really a reference since you were quite small – and his chest was toned. The lanky boy only wore blue jeans and sneakers yet he seemed like a fish to water here, leaned over a dangerously rusty looking railing, in the urban slums of London.

“Tell me about you,” he suddenly blurted out. “Why did you come here?”

A smile crept onto your face and you threw your cigarette away.


One Month Later…

You finished cleaning up your flat and slouched down onto your bed – which was also your sofa, because in one month and two weeks you still didn’t find the time or the money to buy one of each. What you found the time to do though, was to decorate a bit, just enough to turn this depressing place which smelled like cologne and cigarette – and obviously not because of you – into a cozy apartment which you hoped, didn’t look like an old alcoholic lived in there.

The other thing that changed since you moved in is that now, you had a friend. And you like to think that you found a good one. Thomas was a good guy, even though he tried to act like a badass, with his never-fading cuts and bruises, his cigarettes, leather jackets and his motorbike. Which actually, you liked a lot. The night you met, you started to talk about stuff, making small conversation before it turned into a long, deep, open-heart conversation about life. You didn’t have a car, but you had a motorbike too, when you told him that his face lit up and you two began talking enthusiastically about motorbikes for a solid half hour. Then, the conversation topic switched to music and then cinema, and so on, until the sun showed up. Dawn. You had talked with a stranger – not so foreign anymore – until dawn and you haven’t seen time pass.

After that, you made the unspoken promise to not let this chance of making a friend slip away. Whether it was you or him, you somehow always ended up having a talking session a few times a week, until it eventually became a routine.

The only thing you didn’t know about him after one month of conversation, was basically everything that revolved around his girlfriend. He didn’t talk much about her, he just mentioned her every now and then when it became late, or when he was late to your 'meetings’. “My girlfriend is probably wondering where I’ve been, I should go.” “Sorry I’m late, I was with my girlfriend.” Stuff like that.

But you didn’t mind, they obviously weren’t in the best terms. You kept hearing stuff getting broken and sometimes, a girl’s voice yelled for a couple of minutes before silence fell over the place again. You even thought – just for a second – that maybe Thomas could beat up his girlfriend. But then you shook the idea off. No way he would do that, he looked too sweet, and he wouldn’t just walk around with bruises all over himself if he had something like that to hide.

You checked your phone and hopped on your legs, getting rid of your sweatpants and quickly jumping in clean clothes to go to work. You had found a job as a waitress is a small Café – your only steady job. You were also giving reading lessons to children, you posed for the art department of the nearest University, you also took a few night jobs, when the bar around the corner needed an extra barmaid for special occasions – you did basically everything as long as it was well paid.

But your waitress job was the only one you kept. It was a half-time job though, you only worked the morning – yet it was by far the one you liked the most. The customers were usually nice and polite – not like the night club she works for a couple days before being thrown out for punching a client who had wandering hands – and you coworkers were friendly and they were obviously all young adults in need of a job and determinate to keep it. Plus, you get free coffee.

A bunch of coffees, teas, croissants and tips later, your shift was over and you grabbed your jacket and your bag before taking your motorbike and riding home. The ride home was only ten minutes long, but you liked to take a longer way, for the simple fun of riding and visiting new places of the city. You never went to the actual London, with Buckingham Palace, the London Bridge and Big Ben – even breathing in those places was too expensive for you.

Soon enough, you were on your way back to your tiny apartment, but just when you were about to take the street leading to your building, a car made you a fish tail, and if you hadn’t good reflexes, you would have ended up in the brick wall on your right. After getting your balance again, you continued until you reached your place and stopped, as well as the car and the bastard you almost got you into an accident.

“Hey!” You shouted, taking your helmet off and going off your engine. You called a second time, for the person didn’t seem to hear you. “Are you completely irresponsible?! You could’ve made me crash!” It was obviously a chick, she had long blond hair and she wore her handbag in her elbow. “Hey, are you listening?!” You shouted and she eventually stopped.

“What is your problem?” She cringed through her teeth as she turned around. She had a long face, and her eyebrows looked anything but natural, but she wasn’t too bad all together. Her light eyes were shooting lightnings.

My problem?” You squealed in disbelief. “You are my bloody problem, god damnit!” You were out of your mind by now, the bitch was acting stupid just to get on your nerves you knew it, but it still worked. Actually, if her goal was to make you mad, it worked wonders. “Where did you learn to drive? Or did you learn at all, because ti looks like you got your license in a cereal box!” You spitted.

“Excuse me? You’re the one who was driving so slowly in the middle of the road,” she huffed, refraining the urge to hair-flip you.

“I wasn’t in the middle of the road, and I was just respecting the speed limitation you brainless twat!” If it wasn’t so expensive, you would’ve thrown your helmet at her, but she wasn’t worth it. Steam was most likely coming out of your ears by now and both of you were shooting daggers at each other – if looks could kill…

“What’s happening there?” A voice interrupted you and both you and the girl turned your head towards the unfortunate person who was speaking.

“Thomas!” You and the reckless driver said at the same time. She frowned as she realized that you knew him and then turned to you, taking a few steps.

“How do you know that bitch?!” She asked angrily while pointing at me.

“How do you know that bitch?!” You repeated the question, but pointing at her and looking at Thomas who seemed about to pass out, he was as while as your sheets.

“I’m his fucking girlfriend, don’t you dare approach him!” She yelled at you, her face becoming redder by each passing second. Something about this whole situation made you want to laugh, but you considered it would be inappropriate.

“This is the brat who kicks you out at ungodly hours because she doesn’t want you to smoke inside?” You asked him, once again ignoring her which only caused her to get angrier.

“Don’t ignore me!” She shouted at you. “You better fuck off, got it?!”

“There’s no need to get excited girls!” Thomas tried to separate us. “No one’s hurt, okay? Y/N I’m sorry but you need to go now,” he looked at you, pleading you with his eyes. After a couple of seconds deciding whether or not you should break his girlfriend’s nose on the edge of the sidewalk, you finally took a step back.

“You, you shut up you idiot!” She then burst in anger, talking to Thomas. “So that’s where you’ve been when you left the flat? With that whore?”

“Don’t talk to him like that, it’s between you and me!” You grumbled between your closed teeth.

“Or what?!” She raised an eyebrow, daring you to answer. “You’re gonna send your boyfriend after me if I don’t shut up?” The condescension in her tone was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You close the space between the two of you and in that moment, even though she was taller than you, she looked the smallest.

“I don’t need no boyfriend to kick your ass, and if Thomas wasn’t my friend, it would already be done,” you stated threateningly. She swallowed hardly but backed off, letting you win this round.

When he was sure none of you were going to rip off the other’s head, Thomas took his girlfriend’s arm and led them to their apartment, while you stood here, in silence, swallowing back your pride.


Two hours.

That’s how long you’ve been sitting on your couch, turning the volume of the TV up and up, but failing to cover the loud shouts of Thomas’ girlfriend, the foot steps, the broken things probably being thrown all over the place. You felt the guilt knot your stomach, preventing you from eating anything, even just sitting there doing nothing was driving you crazy. It was your fault if they were quarreling. You fought the urge to run upstairs and see if everything’s fine, but you knew it wasn’t and you might just make things worse if you showed up at their place – for all you knew, his girlfriend didn’t know that you lived right under their apartment.

You didn’t even know her name, but now you knew something else.

Thomas didn’t beat up his girlfriend. She did.

It made perfect sense! The way he never really spoke about her, not even mentioning her name, how he deliberately obliterate the subject when you talked about his wounds. It took you so long to realize what was happening just beneath your eyes that you felt bad for not noticing before today!

For two hours now, you’ve been trying to decide what to do now that you knew the truth. Obviously it would be pointless to try and reason her, she was insane. You had to talk to Thomas. You will, as soon as you get the chance.

You grabbed you pillow and laid down on your bed, curling up and putting the pillow over your head, hoping to muffle the screams coming from above.


Your eyes shot open as a loud thud sounding like a door being shut forcefully woke you up. You didn’t realize you’ve fallen asleep and quickly checked your phone to see what time is it. When you saw that only an hour had passed you sighed of relief and quickly stood up, opening your door to see what was happening. All you managed to see was a blond head disappear in the stars and then, a car being started.

She left.

No even thinking twice, your run the stairs two steps at a time and to the door to Thomas’ apartment, which was ajar. You opened it, not knocking.

When you burst into the small room, Thomas jumped in surprise, almost looking scared. His eyes were flickering from you to the space behind you, and a few seconds later he seemed to calm down. He thought it was his girlfriend coming back. He was slouched on the couch, the small table in front of him covered in empty bottles of beer and cigarette butts – plus the one he had tucked between his lips. It was an understatement to say that he looked like a mess. He had a growing bruise on his right eye, a cut on his cheekbone and a few other wounds, all visible thanks to the fact that he was once again shirtless. Struggling to find the right words to say, you eventually noticed he was shivering so you closed the door and turned on the light.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” You asked, breaking the silence and causing Thomas to look up at you, his eyes looking a bit glassy and red.

“Bathroom. Left door of the rack,” he told you, barely making a full sentence. Within the following ten minutes, none of you spoke, you simply stitched him up, taking care of all the visible wounds, though you guessed it was only the visible part of the iceberg. When you were done, Thomas still sucked on his cigarette and looked anywhere but at you.

“Enough,” you stated, grabbing his cigarette from his shaking hand and lighting it down on the ashtray. This seemed to make him react and he titled his head towards you, his lips parted as if he was about to say something. But not a word crossed his mouth.

“You never got into a fight right?” You asked carefully, trying to find the good way to formulate it. He looked down and then shook his head.

“No,” he muttered in a low voice. The way he looked at you in that moment made you realize how much he must have suffered. All this time, he was being tough and keeping it a secret, and now you were here, facing him about a truth he was trying to forget, while he was completely exposed to your judgment. But you weren’t here to judge.

“How long?” The two of you used short sentences, as if too many words would break the moment.

Fumbling with his hands, Thomas’ gaze lingered over you before finally speaking.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I can’t remember.”

And suddenly, before you even realized it, you cupped his cheek with you hand, bringing the other one around his shoulders and you pulled him into your lap. It was the first display of affection you had towards him, but it seemed to calm him down. You stayed like this, Thomas’ face buried in the crook of your neck as you held him tight, while he hugged you back.

“Pack your stuff and follow me,” you said when you parted a couple of minutes later.

“I can’t leave, she’ll come back-” he tried to protest but you shot him a severe glare.

“Thomas, I’m not letting you stay here. I get that you don’t want to go to the police, but you don’t have to deal with this any longer either. Come with me, you’ll be safe,” you wanted to get him away from this place as soon as possible. Everything here reminded you of her.

“I can’t-”

“Of course you can. This is your life,” you insisted. “Don’t let her do that to you.”

For a while, he didn’t say anything, but then he gulped down and stood up straight before heading to his room and gathering a few things, only what’s necessary. You helped him pack and then led him to your flat. He never went there, you always met outside.

“I’ll sleep on the couch, I won’t be a bother, promise,” he quickly said when you put his bag on the floor. You laughed.

“Actually, this is my bed.”


You didn’t comment on his puzzled expression when you began to change your couch into a bed and grabbed the blankets, folded next to the small table.

“I know it’s not much, but it’ll do it for now,” you decided, putting your hands on your hips as you made sure everything was there.

“You don’t have to do this you know? We’ve only known each other for a month…”

Before he could say one more word, you shot him a bright smile and offered him your hand to take.

“Can’t wait to change that,” you chuckled, managing to put a shy smile on his face. It didn’t feel like Thomas to be that shy, he was usually confident, even slightly cocky depending on the conversation topic, and sometimes flirtatious.

Thank god, it only took an hour for him to understand that you wouldn’t change your behavior after finding him in such a misery earlier today. The two of you were slouched in weird positions on your bed, watching TV and talking like nothing happened. Thomas grabbed your legs and put them across his own and he was now running his fingers along them, having you at his mercy for you were unbelievably ticklish – which he quickly noticed.

“Why did you do that?” He asked out of the blue. You turned you head to him, focusing on what he was saying rather than the TV and he gave you a serious look.

“Did what?”

“You came to make sure I was okay. You offered to let me stay here. You’re nice. You’re… you,” he shrugged, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to tell you. “You didn’t have to, and like I said… we barely know each other.”

“You can lie to yourself all you want but not to me. I know you. We’ve talked so much during the past month, I can hardly remember the last time I was that close to someone. And I have a soft spot for you, you’re an interesting person, and you’re passionate about what you like. You seemed to be a good person, and you most definitely didn’t deserve to be treated like-”

He cut you off by kissing you lightly, his lips barely touching yours. It was only a soft brush, to see if you were okay with this, and to be honest you didn’t mind at all. You kissed him back to his relief and you soon felt yourself getting lost his the embrace, as your hands made their way to his neck while his own were wrapped around your waist.

It’s only when he let go that you realized your need for air.

“Thank you Y/N,” he breathed out, his warm brown eyes still dived into yours.

“Not a problem,” you managed to say, blushing a bit.

“This is far from being over though.”

“What do you mean?” You frowned, understanding that he was not speaking about your kiss.

“She’ll be back in the morning and it won’t take long before she finds us. And if she doesn’t she’ll steam off on my motorbike – or yours.” Thomas groaned, running his fingers through his dirty blond hair. “I’m so sorry for dragging you into my problems.”

“C'mon!” You rolled your eyes. “You think I need you to get into trouble? I do that just fine on my own.”

It caused a smirk to appear on his face and his mood lightened.

“We can just leave,” you shrugged. A long silence followed as Thomas stared at you in shock.

“And go where?”

“Well, I don’t know. Any special place you’ve ever wanted to see?” You asked him.

“You’re not serious,” he smiled as if you had just tricked him.

“Deadly serious. I’ve been here for a month, I have no strings on me, leaving this place would be easy,” you tried to explain. After all, he was the only person you actually learned to know and care about in this city. If he came with you, nothing would prevent you from leaving.

“But where would we go?” He asked once again, obviously not familiar with this kind of spontaneity.

“We can just move to another part of the city if you want. Or travel north, maybe to Cambridge, or Leeds. Or we can jump in a boat and go to the States. I mean, why not?”

Somehow what you just said was completely logical and really simple, but he seemed to have difficulties to process it. As if the very idea of having a grasp on his life was unbelievable. You knew just well how scary it could be, and it took you a good twenty years to realize how silly it was to be born, to live and to die in the same place when the world was so vast.

“Okay.” Was all he said, his eyes suddenly shining with a fierce will to change things.

“Okay?” You repeated to make sure he wouldn’t change his mind.

“Let’s do it, let’s leave,” he smiled even wider, as though the very awareness of his freedom was intoxicating. “Let’s take our bikes and ride into the sunset or whatever.” You laughed at the image he choose.

“First, we have to sleep. You need rest, you look like death,” you teased him.

“Well thanks,” he groaned, already ticklish the living daylight out of you. Nothing better than a good laugh and a little hope to get rid of dark thoughts.

When you finally gave in and asked for mercy, Thomas ended your punishment and leaned down, stealing another light kiss from you, and smiling.

anonymous asked:


Originally posted by stiilesstilinski

Struck a nerve, didn’t I?

Originally posted by oohhshiny

He didn’t want to leave.

Originally posted by oohhshiny

But he had to because there’s a war to fight. It’s clearly shown he doesn’t necessarily want to leave but he has to. He can’t just hide out in that house with her forever and neglect their friends and family by not going off to help them fight.

Carol would not want Daryl to do such a thing. She wouldn’t want Daryl to hide out with her. When she found out, she went to fight. She would want Daryl to do the same, not hide.

Trust me sweetie, I don’t need to re-watch the episode again (even though I will later because I love it so much) but not for you. I’ve re-watched the episode more times than I can count. I’ve damn near studied each and every single second that went by between these two. I listened and read the interviews given. I’m well aware of what’s happening and what’s going on. (oh hey! The Walking Dead episode name 5x09… you know because I KNOW the show and often have things known off the top of my heart, thank you very much!)

OH! And I do love Carol. Me defending Daryl doesn’t mean I don’t love Carol, I don’t know why you would assume that?
I understand Daryl. I emphasize with Daryl. I’m like a female version of Daryl.
So yeah, when you’re coming in my ask box and spewing things that… don’t make sense (sorry to offend you) I’m going to say something back.

Also, you’re a hypocrite. You said ‘’ You don’t like Carol? Why do you prefer Daryl? What kind of Caryl shipper are you? ‘’
Well, if you want to go down that route, what kind of Caryl shipper are YOU? You’re insulting Daryl. You claim that Daryl doesn’t do enough for Carol, doesn’t love her and was SO angry at her for leaving.
I defended the character because what you said is just wrong.

What did you expect me to say?
‘’ Oh, you’re so right! Daryl is so not good enough! How DARE HE not make a move! How DARE HE push a very vulnerable Carol on a tree and start making out and making babies! How insulting! He SO doesn’t love Carol! He was so PISSED that she left that he had his hand in a fist! OMG! PISSED OFF DARYL RIGHT HERE!!!! ‘’

Well, sorry. I’m not delusional. Because THIS, down here, isn’t the face of someone angry. It’s the face of someone who is hurting. Who is confused. Sad. Heart-broken. Not anger.

Originally posted by riveralwaysknew

Kinda Irritated Daryl looks like this:

Originally posted by anormanlife

Angry Daryl kind of like this:

Originally posted by louisreedus

BUT! Neither his face NOR his voice suggested irritation or anger in any way shape or form. It was HURT.

*Takes a breather*

Now. I need a cigarette. I obviously can’t change your mind if you are convinced that Daryl doesn’t do enough, Daryl doesn’t love Carol or Daryl was angry at Carol.
All I can do is provide my insight as politely as I can, despite your original message, which was kind of rude, just a tad.
I can provide gif’s which support my opinion. All of which I have done. I have gone above and beyond to try to make you see things in a better light for your own benefit, if you ship Caryl, why would you want to think that Daryl doesn’t love Carol or do enough for her?

I’ve done my part, you do yours. It’s up to you. If you’re sure about your opinion, that’s fine. Keep it. But don’t get angry just because I’m providing my insight, something I assumed you would have wanted if you sent me the message? (Not sure what else you were expecting from me…) and defending Daryl. You’re defending Carol the way I’m defending Daryl which is insane because Daryl and Carol LOVE eachother and wouldn’t be questioning the other. 

If we’re both Caryl shippers, shouldn’t we come together as a whole and celebrate the beautiful ship and appreciate everything we’ve been given?

Shouldn’t we lift eachother up?

Shouldn’t we do our part to make the Caryl tag a better place? (At this rate, I’ll have to ignore your anon’s because by posting your ask, even with my responses, it’s still rather negative).

Shouldn’t we be there for one another? To give hope? To be positive? To be kind to one another?

Shouldn’t we just be NICE?

Just a thought. Now I’m done. I’ve done my best.

Originally posted by permanently-wanderlust


So since February I’ve been having seizures. They’ve ranged from full on grand mal (whole body convulsions, total lack of consciousness etc) to small ‘petit mal’ or partial seizures. As I’m still undiagnosed I’m not medicated so these seizures can happen anywhere at any time for no real reason (that we know of yet.) 

Anyhow, I was at work and it was a fairly standard evening. we were about an hour and from closing and I started to feel really strange. I kept feeling detached, couldn’t remember simple information and kept getting twitches in my arms. I knew what was coming next and sure enough within 15 minutes had this feeling that I can only explain as feeling really drunk; the store felt like it was spinning. I had a couple seconds to get a colleague (who to his credit realised pretty much immediately that something wasn’t right) to take over on the till and stumbled my way off of the shop floor and into the office. 

Here, I had 6 or 7 partial seizures one after the other, then a further two more serious ones. I don’t remember much of it except lying on the office floor so that I wouldn’t smash my face into the waist hight steel safe, so the next part has been told to me by my colleague because I have no idea what was going on. 

Of course, my manager called an ambulance, and as he was tied up making sure I wasn’t going to stop breathing/choke on my own vomit or tongue and generally doing first aid until the paramedics got to me, it left only one person on the shop floor, so he decided to close the store 20 minutes earlier than usual because we can’t have only one person running the store for legal reasons. 

Apparently 'someone is having a seizure in here’ wasn’t a good enough reason for some customers, who proceeded to try to come in through the locked door and argue with my colleague. Once the ambulance came, apparently most people got the message and left, except one woman who continued shouting obscenities through the glass and practically tried to elbow the paramedics out of the way to get in because obviously her need for cigarettes was greater than my need for medical attention. My colleague kicked her out and she’s threatened to report us to Head Office for closing early. Which we are allowed to do in exceptional circumstances like a member of staff needing urgent medical attention, for example. 

I just can’t believe some people’s inability to think about other people and realise that we are human beings too. Makes me so mad! I’m fine now thankfully, just upset the whole thing happened (it was a matter of time though, I’m just lucky I had a good manager and colleague on with me that night who looked after me and knew what to do!) 


The first cigarette I smoked
Was when I was 12 years old
In the woods in the park
When my best friend took two
From her mom’s pack
And a beer from her dad’s case
Because that’s what adults did
And I never felt like I was a child.
The next time I smoked my brother gave me
One of his Newports when he didn’t
Feel like smoking alone.
Then because I liked the burn
I felt in the back of my throat
And the look of a cigarette hanging from my lips
With the red glow reflecting on my face
Felt somehow poetic.
Then because I thought it tasted alright
With a cup of coffee or glass of diet coke.
For awhile it steadied my breathing
When the thoughts in my head
Became too loud for me to think straight.
Now every drag
Reminds me of the aftertaste
That always seemed to linger
On your tongue.
But I smoke them anyway
Because it seems like the thing to do.
—  “Why do you smoke cigarettes?”

                    LAUGHTER      RUMBLES      TORSO          ,           eyes      darting      down      to      the      obviously     FREEZING      girl.           cigarette      is      held      between      teeth           ,           one      arm      moving      to      curl       around     her      small      frame          /           a      lame      attempt     at      warming      her      up.           ❛             c’mere.           want      my      jacket      ?            ❜

@warshipped     /       FROM      HERE.


Babysitter (Bechloe AU)

Chapter 1

Beca knew she wasn’t going to make it in LA without a job. And she thought it was going to be easy, finding a bar or a record store to work at. I mean c'mon, it’s LA! She didn’t really know much about applying for jobs. Or working, really. But she knew she needed to earn money if she wanted to stay and pursue her dream of becoming a famous DJ. And she knew she had to find a job immidiately because she was so done with her father calling her every day to remind her that starting next month, she’ll be paying her own bills.
She’s been to five bars and two record stores, and none of them were short of staff. On the contrary, they were packed. Beca didn’t know a record store needed more than five people to run it. What did they do all day? Pass each other some CDs? Talk about Lady Gaga? The store was basically empty.

It was her third week searching for a job and she’s just spent five hours walking around town and being turned down by every single place she stepped into. Tired and hungry, she decided to try again in the nearest cafe. Cafes are like bars except better looking, right?
She went in and sat down at a table. She was too tired to walk over to the counter. The place was nice and quiet. After two minutes, she was approached by a waitress.
»Hello. What can I get you?«
»Hi, um, I’ll have a glass of water and a blueberry muffin, please.«
»Sure thing.«
As she waited, she looked around. She could totally see herself working here. It was nice and tidy, and all the shelves were stacked with books. To her left, there was an open drawer filled with newspapers.
»Oh, you can totally take one if you want. They’re just sitting there, waiting to be read.«
Beca looked up at the waitress after she placed the muffin and water in front of her.
»Thanks. Actually, I was just wondering, are you hiring?«
»Sadly, no. Not right now.« She looks around before sitting next to Beca,
»If I could, I would hire you right on the spot. This shit’s really tiring when you work alone.«
Beca was surprised by the blonde’s words and actions but she didn’t really mind.
»Yeah, I bet. You know, I thought it was going to be easy to find a job in LA. And now here I am, three weeks and thirty-six rejections later.« The brunette giggled before taking a bite of her muffin.
»I can help you if you want.«
»Really? But aren’t you busy?«
»Right now, you’re my only costumer. There’s nothing much to do. And you seem like you could really use some help.«
»I really could. I’m Beca, by the way.« Beca smiled at the blonde and she smiled back.
»Aubrey. So let’s get started then.«
»Wait, how are we gonna do this?«
Aubrey took a newspaper out of the drawer and spread it on the table in front of them.
»I found my last job in a newspaper. There are some really good job adverts in here and who even reads newspaper these days?«
»Wow, you’re right. I haven’t thought of that.« Beca said as she started looking at a page full of advertisements.

A few minutes passed and all they’ve found were ads either looking for secretaries or mechanics.
»Hey what about this one?« Aubrey said and pointed at something on the next page.
Beca looked at it and scrunched up her nose.
»Yeah, I’m not that good with kids.«
»So? It’s not that hard. Plus, I know this woman. She comes here every week with her kids and trust me, she could really use some help.« The blonde tapped her finger against a black and white picture of a girl.
»Wait, are you saying this is the mother? She looks about twenty! And it says here she has a six and a one year old?«
Beca saw Aubrey look at her guiltily.
»What?« Beca asked.
Aubrey sighed, »Okay, I’ll tell you. But only if you promise you will help her out. Please?«
Beca squinted her eyes at that. She hated kids. But she was also very curious.
»Okay, I promise I’ll call her.«
Aubrey turned to Beca and started talking.
»Well, this woman, her name is Chloe, comes by every week and asks me if I could keep an eye out for her kids while she goes out and has a few minutes to herself. One time, her kids were playing with Diego, my brother who came to pick me up. I was getting ready to leave but she wasn’t back yet and I decided to go look for her. I walked a few blocks and I saw her on a bench. She was smoking a cigarette. Obviously, I didn’t judge her. But as I walked closer, I realized she was shaking. And crying. I sat down next to her and she apologized. That’s when she told me.«
Aubrey stopped talking and looked at Beca, who nodded for her to continue.
»Oh God, Beca. There is so much this woman has been through. She asked me not to tell anyone, ever. But I’ll tell you this. She had a baby when she was 15. It wasn’t her fault. You need to take this job, Beca. She needs someone right now. Hell, she needed someone her whole life. And she’s all alone and she hasn’t been around in two weeks and now I’m kind of worried.«
The blonde looked at the DJ with wide eyes and bit her lip. All Beca could do was nod.
A few minutes passed in silence.
»I will call her.«