they're like smoking

i dont even like drinking anymore
i dont like smoking either
i just want to find my person
grow with them
get in shape
start my career
learn french
get a cute loft with said person
with exposed brick
and a spiral staircase
and one of those old fridges with a latch as a handle
surrounded by succulents
i want to write my novel
in my dads sweater
with the typewriters I collected in my 20s
i want to be 40 with my person
and our son Jude
he has his mothers nose
i have my fathers eyes
they’re distinguishing

6

Honestly I’m never going to finish this so I’d rather u guys have it unfinished than not at all

My iPhone has been cleared of nearly all photos in order to provide sufficient space for documenting the upcoming road trip.  Now they’re all cluttering up my photo library on my computer, but oh well.

I tried in vain to get my father to leave the camera he bought while he was visiting here with me, but he could not be convinced.

(But seriously, who is going to have more need for a quality camera in the next six months: the busy lawyer who never takes a day off, or his son studying in Germany who travels on the weekends?)

My suitcase is packed, my rucksack is filled with my research notebook, pencils, pens, passport, blister Band-Aids and Black’s penultimate Kaltenbrunner biography.  My devices are charging, my backup phone battery is on standby for when it runs low taking photos, and my USB drive is ready for whatever comes its way.  I’ve got my map of Upper Austria close at hand, and, of course, a pack of Chesterfields for Ernst.

i fuck with calum drinking honestly… i want to see him clutching a sweating glass in his hand in the dark of a club and I want to watch his eyes darken as he throws it back, alcohol burning his throat. i want him to lick every last drop off his lips and and watch them pull back into a smirk, before he slams the now empty glass onto the bar. he leans his elbows back on the bar for a second, letting the alcohol make it’s way down, surveying the room, and groans out, “fuck… I need a cigarette.”

07/23/15 ] upright strength
strength from within; perseverance

insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. a reincarnation/soulmate au of sorts in which kougami dies and suffers in the life afterwards.

+

“There had to be one universe … where we don’t end up together. Here and now just happen to be it.” – Gabby Dunn

He sees her again on the subway.

The space is crowded with busy people, all talking at once and not saying anything at all.

They are all inconsequential when he sees her.

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“Honestly. I came out to have a good time and I’m having such a good fucking time.” she exclaimed, taking a drag from the cigarette wedged between her manicured fingers. At one point during the year, she’d almost given up on her dreams yet here she was; having released her second single only yesterday and today it was topping most charts. The festival was definitely a turning point — her image was finally restored along with her happiness and faith. “What´cha say? You want a drink?” she asked the person sat across from her, whom she’d joined only seconds ago, although before they’d had time to answer she was already waving the waitress to their table. 

Novice rounds

Here be drug references. No one’s doing cocaine off countertops but like, if you’re super against drug use you should turn around now. Dumb teenagers do dumb things.
(I hate being so old in this fandom.)

She coughed wildly, setting the piece back down on the log between them. Water. Where the fuck was her nalgene? Across from her, the asshole with the grin passed her his canteen, which she accepted with a glare.

“Aren’t you ‘popular’ kids supposed to be familiar with the drug scene?”

“Get me a bottle of whisky and I can drink you under the table, Pines.” Her throat was still burning from the hit and her words tasted like ash. “Weed reeks; there’s no way I’m getting it around my parents.”

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