Shvdykiid:

@tatemcallisterr

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. ”

Kellan with Ronda Rousey and Glenn Powell

Kellan Lutz in Geoffrey Beene Spring Summer 2017 Campaign 

tatemcallisterr:

It was hard to talk about, even with someone like Jaxon who could relate so strongly to what he was going through. That was a big reason Tate kept insisting he didn’t need to see a therapist or go to any support groups. Talking about things had never helped him deal with them anyways. “I know it’ll probably never go away completely —- I just wish it would get better. I’m fucking tired.” Tate knew he wasn’t the first person to go to war and come back having nightmares about it, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. But when he wakes up at night, alone, in an empty house, it’s hard not to feel isolated. “I am for the most part. Doc just found some problems with my liver when they were doing blood tests. It’s not a big deal.” At least that’s what his doctor had told him, it wouldn’t be a big deal as long as he didn’t drink so often. Which was proving difficult when it was his go-to coping mechanism. 

yeah, he knew that feeling well. too well. it made his chest ache for his friend. and it made him angry that he didn’t know how to help tate. especially when tate was so adverse to help.  “ they say therapy is supposed to... i dunno. do somethin’, ya know? ” the suggestion was tentative and gentle, like he knew tate wouldn’t respond well to it. but he had to try. there had to be something. even if talking didn’t help the famously tight-lipped man, maybe there was something else they could recommend. at least, that’s what jaxon hoped.  “ yer liver being fucked up doesn’t sound like ‘not a big deal’. and that fuckin’ sucks. who else is gonna appreciate shitty whiskey with me? ” he teased gently, a small smirk flickering at the corner of his lips. “ oh, we got a friend in common. jonny. maybe in place of drinkin’, get stoned with him. ” the suggestion was only half serious, and the light in jaxon’s eyes said as much. he was trying to be helpful. trying to make tate feel like there was a little hope. despite how fucking tired he felt. 

tatemcallisterr:

as much as tate hated to admit it, jaxon knew him better than probably anyone else on earth. they had been through a lot together throughout their friendship, quite a bit more than a normal friendship could handle. tate knew that jaxon had been through and still dealt with some of the same things he was currently going through, maybe not as intensely but still. he knew it was why jaxon preferred to work at night and sleep during the day. even when tate tried to sleep during the day he was jolted awake by the nightmares. finally setting his fork down he rested his elbows on the table and let out a heavy sigh as his gaze met jaxon’s. “because every time damn i close my eyes i’m back over there. except it’s fucking worse.” he shook his head, putting his head in his hands. it made him angry when he thought about it — it made him feel weak and god, he hated feeling weak. “alcohol helps. i’m not supposed to be drinking though.” 

jaxon sighed at tate’s response— it was the one he expected. and feared. it seemed like no one left the war whole. physically, mentally, emotionally. they were all tainted and damaged, and nightmares fucked with sleep and sanity in a very special way. he wished he had an answer for tate. a way to help make them go away, or even ease them slightly. but fuck... he’d been searching for that answer for two years and had come up with very little.  “ hey, man. it’s alright. don’t think i’ve ever met a soldier that didn’t have nightmares. yer not alone there, ” he offered quietly, intimately familiar with feeling weak or broken for struggling like this. fuck, he still felt like that a lot. but it helped... knowing his brothers felt like it too.  “ why aren’t you supposed to be drinkin’? i thought you were all healed up. ”

Because you look after me and kiss me till I bleed I don't want anything, but all of you I know I swore, I said I'll never love again But—man, oh, man—you're my best friend

then & now // jaxathan aesthetic

@beautifulburnout​ & @theprodigalsoldier