Theprodigalsoldier-blog - ♠ Attente Tourmente ♠

tatemcallisterr:

Tate saw it coming, Jaxon’s careful first suggestion. It was the most logical thing to tell someone in his current state, and it certainly wasn’t the first time anyone had mentioned the idea to him. However, the way Jaxon proposed the idea was exactly why Tate wouldn’t do it. They both knew Tate wasn’t one to open up easily, or at all really. He used to be different. Talking about how he was feeling used to just come naturally to him. But a lot of things that used to come naturally were just not as easy anymore. “I’m not going to therapy.” Was all Tate said in response, completely shut down to even thinking about the suggestion seriously. He didn’t want to relive those days in his dreams and he sure as hell didn’t want to have to talk about them either. “It’s not fucked up, it’s just…stressed.” Tate decided before quirking a brow as Jaxon went on. “Oh yeah? You know Jonny, huh? Small world.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if anything would take the place of drinking. Although it might help me sleep for more than five hours.” It might also help him eat a decent meal once in a while, but he left that part out. Jaxon had enough worry in his eyes looking at him, Tate didn’t want to give him anything else. 

jaxon fully expected that reaction. even their issues in the past couldn’t erase the countless nights they spent on patrol together, and jaxon knew tate. then and now. they’d both changed in ways they hated to think about. he sighed to himself, and sat up a little straighter, leaning his elbows on the table and closer in.  “ look, man. i get it, okay? i don’t talk to them about my shit either. ‘cause i really don’t fuckin’ wanna drag all that shit up. but... they got counselors, who just give you suggestions, ya know? like they recommended me to a training program for my dogs, so they can help when i get overwhelmed. and they gave me a list of things to try when i’m in a bad place. jus’— somethin’ to think about, ” he shrugged, trailing off as he leaned back and sipped at his iced tea. it wasn’t something he wanted to pressure tate into. but he also didn’t want tate to blindly block out everything that had a possibility of helping. “ well i hope yer liver relaxes, ” jax replied, just barely smiling, hoping to get tate to relax some too.  “ yeah... we were best friends all through high school. remember i told you, how he went away to art school, got involved in sketchy shit, and we had a falling out. that’s jonny. same jonny you know, apparently. but smoking does help with the sleep thing. while your liver is healing, ya know? plus, i’d pay good money t’ see you stoned out of yer mind. ”

✉️| DANNIE & JAX

dannie: happy belated birthday, shit head.

dannie: 😘

jaxon: thanks??

jaxon: i feel like such a fucking grumpy old man because i dont really like my birthday.

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

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. ”

404erisnotfound:

     — *:･ 🃟🂡 The female looked at the offered cupcakes then at the male holding them out, with a narrowed gaze without saying a word. She crossed her arms over her chest and gazed more intently, still not uttering a word. After a couple of beats of intentional awkward silence, ❝ so why would I accept baked goods from a total stranger? ❞ Eris asked with an inquisitive tone yet her face remained impassive. After all, wasn’t there a general rule about it? Never open the door to people you didn’t know and never accept anything from strangers. Pretty standard things, right? 

jaxon just wanted to pawn off the cupcakes. but the woman that paused before them gave him a hefty glare, and jaxon only stared back at her. waiting. wondering. after 8 years in the marine, he didn’t squirm in stand offs.  “ .... ‘cause they’re cupcakes? no one’s forcing them on you, ” he pointed out, licking frosting off of one of his fingers with a shrug. no skin off his nose if she didn’t want to partake. 

Kellan Lutz in Geoffrey Beene Spring Summer 2017 Campaign

the day got away from me and i meant to get all my replies done D: 

but i work tomorrow morning, and im v tired. 

so becca’s reply on jax, and then all of kapono’s replies will come tomorrow. as well as replies to starters c: 

i’ll also post the new bios on the main! 

love y’all <3 <3 <3

⌚ :))))

“ 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

tatemcallisterr:

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.

they’d been through a lot together— overseas, fighting side by side, and abroad, fighting each other. but after years, and months of trying to repair things, tate was coming around, and their friendship had slowly started to rebuild. thank fucking god. jaxon folded his arms on the tabletop, giving tate a quick once over. he knew the look well. on tate, on himself, on other veteran friends. it worried him. but even more, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to help.  “ she looks much better in a skirt than me, i can promise you that, ” he teased gently, trying to fight the sympathy from his smile. tate didn’t need that.  “ couldn’t sleep, because...— ” he trailed off, but the tension in his expression spoke enough. it was the reason jaxon worked graveyard. those nightmares were easier for him to deal with when he slept during the day. but he knew tate’s nightmares manifested worse than his did.  “ does anything help? ”