Theprodigalsoldier:

I don’t know how to stay tender with this much blood in my mouth

Ophelia, Act IV, Scene V  (via sumiremiu)

                       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. 

theprodigalsoldier:

god, he was tired. after a long overnight shift, his whole body ached with weariness. it wasn’t anything like the long overnighters in the military. but it didn’t mean it was particularly fun or easy. especially tonight. with a rough domestic violence call, with kids involved. he was ready to go home. but he was starving. and eating at home meant cooking, and he definitely didn’t have the energy for that.  “ hey, daisy, ” jax smiled warmly at the waitress behind the counter he knew too well after so many early mornings. “ steak and eggs? with sweet potato fries. to-go, please. and a black tea. thanks, darlin’. ”  he was about to sit down, waste time on his phone, when he saw tate. looking just as exhausted as he felt.  “ i can grab you one if ya really want. but you look like you need a nap more than caffeine, ” he pointed out, gentle and understanding as he sat across from his old friend.  “ hey, man. rough night? ” 

At the sound of a familiar voice in response to his request Tate looked up to meet Jaxon’s gaze. He was right, but there was no way he was going to get any sleep more at this point in the day. It might as well be noon Tate-time. Jaxon had always been able to read him. Although it wasn’t that hard right now to tell that Tate was exhausted. Between the bags under his eyes and the mess of hair he hadn’t bothered to comb through before he left the house, it was clear he had just rolled out of bed and come to the diner. Tate shook his head slowly letting out a sigh. “Thought you were the waitress.” He replied, setting his fork down as Jaxon took a seat across from him. His gaze moved to his plate at Jaxon’s question, staring at the barely eaten contents momentarily before he answered. “Just couldn’t sleep is all.” He shrugged, looking back up at his friend.

theprodigalsoldier:

@tatemcallisterr asked “ ❢ ” [ ❢ ] my muse discovers yours all bloodied and bruised.

he’d gone through the list. yoga, taking a long walk, reading a book, doing something with his hands. he was really trying to find better coping mechanisms, but the ones that the counselor at the VA recommended just really were not cutting it. or doing much of anything at all. with the reappearance of jonny in his life, and all the complicated bullshit that came along with that, plus the hardship his family was going through with the cafe not making as much as it needed to… the inside of jaxon’s head was not a fun place. and god damn, he just wanted everything to slow down for a moment. he wanted the world to just get a little quieter. four shots of whiskey and a bar fight later, things had slowed down. his brain could only focus on the throbbing and the bleeding and the blurring effects of the whiskey. jax sipped slowly at his flask, sitting on the concrete edge of a planter outside the bar. blood slid slowly from the re-opened cut on his cheek, and leaked from the inside of his mouth. it should be trouble that jaxon felt calm, and centered like this, for the first time in weeks. 

Tate should not be out, let alone going to a bar but at this point he didn’t care. He’d run out of alcohol in his house and his favorite liquor store wasn’t open this late ironically. In hind’s sight, drinking the last of the whiskey in his house probably should have been a sign to just stop drinking. But two glasses wasn’t nearly enough to get him drunk enough to fall asleep. After getting a combined fifteen hours of sleep the last few days, he thought maybe the only way to fall asleep was to get drunk enough to just pass out. Which deep down he knew was a horrible idea and just an excuse to drink, but that wasn’t the point. As he approached the bar and recognized the figure sitting outside it seemed fate was not going to let him get drunk tonight. “Well, you look like shit.” He spoke up upon getting a closer look at his friend. Taking a seat next to Jaxon he let out a soft sigh. “Aren’t cops supposed to be the ones that break up fights?”

myhemsworth:

Independence Day: Resurgence | Portraits.

shvdykiid:

Finally taking another look at the male and Oliver stops. “Are you fucking photoshopped? “ Oliver gets the feeling this guy leaves broken hearts all over the damn place and Ollie-kins ain’t mad. “Uh– look I’ll give you my number. I could pay for the repair, just let me know where you’re going to get it done.”

Tate looks down at the other, momentarily confused. “--- Excuse me?” He sighed before shaking his head when he looked back down at his phone again. Even if he wanted to fix the damn thing, he didn’t know anything about where to take it. “It’s fine, I guess. I probably won’t even get it fixed, don’t worry about it. Thanks though.” 

perfume: if you could make your own signature fragrance, what would it smell like?

perfume: if you could make your own signature fragrance, what would it smell like?

“Well fuck, I don’t know. I like the smell of nature. Ya know, just like the smell of trees and fresh air. And when you’re sitting next to a river and you take a nice deep breath — that smell. It’d be pretty hard to bottle that up though. And it also might not sell so well. People probably don’t want to smell like dirt and trees and shit.”