Tatemcallisterr-blog

knoxaf:

                  For the majority of that hour Knox was busy playing Panda Pop. The night was pretty dull for the most part; until he was notified of someone coming to sleep off the alcohol in their system. Knox sighs and starts to get shit ready for another cell to be occupied. 

“You look rough– want a wet wipe or somethin’ like that?” Knox offered as he’s setting the small box of apple juice and crackers at an accessible area. “Uh, the fridge has been right fucked for the last couple days. Meaning we couldn’t refrigerate our drinks. Hence everything bein’ room temp.”

@tatemcallisterr

One would think having a very close friend that works in the police department would get him out of things like spending the night in a cell sleeping off the alcohol he had just consumed. And yet here he was, doing just that. Tossing his shoes across the cell he practically glared at the officer that was babysitting him for the night. “No, I don’t want a fucking wet wipe.” He had slept in far worse conditions than the state he was in now. Letting out a sigh Tate looked over at the provisions left for him. “Damn. I was really looking forward to my gourmet meal being nice and cold. This night is just full of disappointment.” 

Because we all just want to escape one thing—our heads at night.

Pauline (via wnq-writers)

liamgaleehemsworth:

new @liamhemsworth in a photoshoot @randallslavin via Instagram “ On set today with this monster @liamhemsworth Thanks, buddy”

It was early, even for Tate. But after another night of restless sleep he thought maybe some food would take his mind off things and help him relax a little bit. So he sat at his favorite twenty-four hour diner, pushing the food around on his plate with his fork absentmindedly more than he was actually eating any of it. He had a million things on his mind since he had gotten back home three months ago. Losing his mother, his injury, the end of his career in the marines --- it was all a lot for him to handle in a short amount of time. Rubbing his sleep filled eyes he could hear someone approach him, and just assumed it was his waitress checking in on him for the one hundredth time since he had sat down forty-five minutes ago. “Just another cup of coffee, please.” He muttered.

Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?

Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone  (via thequotejournals)

                       he can’t outrun the sentiments that poison his body.                                they make him sick, vulnerable, w e a k.                                             they rot him inside-out.

                                                              ( && ) 

                          how do you heal from such internal damage?                                         in reality, he knows he can’t.                           ——— but there’s no way he’ll be eaten alive by                                                  his own conscience.

                                         he resorts to drugs, to alcohol.                                 to the numbness it gives him no matter                                                     how temporary.