#NYFWM Ambassador Kellan Is Smart  Photo By Ckscreativemanagement

Kellan Lutz in Geoffrey Beene Spring Summer 2017 Campaign 

biggest regret?

“ not bein’ there for tate. that was... yeah, biggest mistake of my life. i was a piece of shit, and i fucked up. i should have been there for him. he may have forgiven me, at least partially. but i don’t think i’ll ever forgive myself. ”

@tatemcallisterr

jax ✉✉✉ jonny

jonny: thrill seeking isn't death seeking lol

jonny: hahaha that was fun though. i miss that fucking lake

jaxon: depends on who you ask

jaxon: yeah me too. there's a pretty great one out here. up in the mountains. pretty good fishing.

tylerbeyond:

there was a story there. tyler didn’t know what it was, but he felt he could relate. thankfully, he had enough tact not to ask. “yeah! rip every party i’ve never been to! they could never be perfect because i never showed up. listen, you’re joking, but you’ve never been to a party with me.” he wagged his eyebrows at jaxon suggestively, then gave him a tight one-armed hug. “i’ll buy the first round. since it’s your birthday.”

“ maybe i’ve never been to a party with you. but i’ve been to a bar with you. and th’ roof of a bar with you. and snuck into a vip section of a club with you. so i think i get the gist, ” he laughed, squeezing tyler’s shoulder and grinning warmly at him. this was definitely a perk up in his usual birthday mood. leave it to fucking tyler.  “ well aren’t you fuckin’ generous? ” he teased, keeping his arm around tyler’s shoulders.  “ so where to, party god? since you scoff at my dive bars. ”

⌚ :))))

“ i served with this kid for years, and yer gonna make me pick just one? ummm… fuck your rules, you get two. 

so over there… its so much fucking desert, and sand, and that shit is fuckin’ awful. it gets in your guns, it gets in your gps, it gets in your fucking lungs. sometimes there are these sandstorms, right? it just blows and blows and blows. and you can’t see shit, you can barely breathe, you can’t hear. yer just stuck in this browned out haze. and then… then sometimes it starts fuckin’ raining on top of it. so its just a mud storm. and then yer on your belly, trying to get out of the wind, and you get even more muddy. anyways. its awful. one night, tate and i are walking the perimeter, and before he reaches the end of his sentence, the wind starts up, and while i’m finishing settin’ up the standard issue tent for this kind of shit, it starts raining. so we’re both fuckin’ covered in mud, gettin’ this shit set up, trying not to lose hold of the damn thing. and mind you… it’s a one person tent. so we’re both soaking wet, and caked in mud, huddled in this tiny ass tent, waiting out the storm. and i mean… you get bored, ya know? so mcallister pulls out his pack of cards, and we know its gonna get ruined because we dont have a clean fucking scrap of material between us. but what else do ya do? so we sit there pretty much all night, playin’ every card game we can think of, talkin’ about everything and anything we can think of. and honestly… despite the storm, it really wasn’t a bad night. i think he lost a patch of hair because we let the mud dry and tried to pick it off. anyways, after that, i kept the ruined deck, and got him a new deck of cards, and ghetto laminated them with packing tape. i thought i was funny. 

so that’s one. that’s when we were serving. my other favorite memory is one i can barely remember. we were headed home on leave, but our flights were delayed because of atlantic storm. so we spent a couple days in dublin. and i mean… we were young, dumb, antsy marines back then. and we were in fuckin’ dublin for gods sake. so of course… we go out and get absolutely smashed. you’d think it was fleet week the way we tore it up. we were bar hopping, and making friends all over the place, because the irish fuckin’ love americans. i think we did karaoke at one point. or maybe we just sang real loud in a pub. anyways… i wake up the next morning, in someone’s hotel. tate is passed out on the floor with a bruise on his fuckin’ neck. i’ve got a split lip and a scrape on my cheek and my shoulder. there’s marbles in my pockets, a jacks and ball set on the coffee table. and a fucking red balloon tattoo on my foot. how we got from one point to the next is a little hazy,  but i do remember we had a whole god damn bunch of fun. we were both hungover on th’ plane going back to the states, but it was fun drinking bloody marys and trying to piece together the night. 

there’s lots of nights like both of those. but those two stick out, and just remind me that tate is a real ride or die. even when he definitely doesn’t agree with the stupid shit i wanna do. he still goes along with me, and makes sure that i don’t die. ”

@tatemcallisterr

Jaxon Sawyer && Three (5) Fictional Characters

Dean Winchester ( Supernatural ) // “As long as I’m around, nothing bad is gonna happen to you.”

Nick Miller ( New Girl ) // “You love me too much! And you picked the wrong guy! And when are you gonna get that through giant head of yours? I’m just gonna let you down.”

Vic Carboneau ( Survival Code ) //  —"You wanna run your business in my bar, fine. I don’t complain.“  —"What are you talking about? All you do is complain!”  —"WHAT?! No, I don’t!“

Kristoff Bjorgman ( Frozen ) // “Of course I don’t want to help her anymore. In fact, this whole thing’s ruined me for helping anyone ever again……— Hold up! We’re coming.”

Jeff Winger ( Community ) // “I’m just a grown man who can’t even look his own friends in the eye for too long, because I’m afraid that they’ll see that I am broken.”

“ …. — if you wanna start a fight, ya better throw the first punch. 

                                                                                  — m a k e  i t  a  g o o d  o n e . ”

im dealing with my shit the way im dealing with it.  are my methods unhealthy? yes. are they effective? no. am i going to change what im doing? nope. 

tatemcallisterr:

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.

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? ”