@tatemcallisterr Asked “ ❢ ” [ ❢ ] My Muse Discovers Yours All Bloodied And Bruised.

jax ✉✉✉ jonny

jaxon: you're home and safe, yeah? not wandering around in the storm like i found tate.

wilycoyotc:

The power shut down hours ago and the road leading to Cash’s apartment is blocked. Where he managed to find himself was a hotel. He was lucky to have showed up early because the lobby became packed with people seeking a place until the storm blew over. Cash could be found at the bar taking a sip from his drink. The storm had long lost it’s terror and became boring. Drinking normally made things fun when he had nothing to do. 

“Hey– keep those drinks coming,” he spoke to the bartender. Cash knows there is nothing he can do from this point. 

god, fuck this storm. he was on hour seven of a shift that would last who knows how long. thankfully, he could get a break from the fucking rain, escorting a soaked and terrified pair of party girls back to their hotel. he was genuinely concerned that the girls would float off if he didn’t make sure they got back. and now? well, he needed a god damn BREAK before heading back out.  “ black coffee, please. with a shot of whiskey, because fuck it, ” he shrugged, leaning against the bar and brushing the hair back from his forehead.  “ well hey, old man, ” jax smirked, turning as he noticed cash at the bar beside him. “ why am i not surprised yer riding out the storm at a hotel bar? ” 

hinemoanax:

Kora just about jumps out of their skin when they hear a noise on the porch of their shitty little bungalow. They were curled up on the sofa watching what was probably the tenth Inuyasha episode of the night (they’d lost control of their life a long time ago). They should’ve been asleep as they had an early start for school, but a dream about drowning had cut the whole sleep thing short. That whole crushing-darkness, burning lungs and numb limbs schtick really didn’t float their boat. Waking up in a cold sweat with that anxiety-slash-nausea-slash-panic feeling in their throat didn’t help either.

Kora slinks off the sofa when there’s a knock at the door, pausing their show as they let the blanket snake down their legs to fall on the floor. They scuttle over to the door - they spend a moment trying to peak out the window at whoever just jumpscared them, but between the flyscreens, the bars and the dirt (they didn’t clean the outside of the house, fam) they couldn’t make out shit. The broken porch light didn’t help in the slightest. 

They sink the chain before they crack the door open, just enough to peak out, squinting in the low light.

“Uh. Hi?”

[ @theprodigalsoldier ]

he was a cop. he was a good cop. good at his job, and cared a whole fucking lot. and he didn’t want to put that in jeopardy. and yet... his fighting had started getting worse recently. along with his drinking. it was something he refused to examine, or acknowledge, or deal with. so it just kept getting worse. usually, he could chalk up the after affects of his scraps as bumps and bruises he got on the job, or while sparing in the gym. but— this was a little more severe than a black eye. and why he was showing up at kora’s place way too god damn late. he couldn’t go to anyone else with this, because they’d make him go to the hospital. and he couldn’t risk the PD finding out. he felt bad coming by like this, with request for such a huge favor... but something told him kora would help. 

“ heyyy, kora, ” he said quietly, holding a towel against the wound on his lower back.  “ i’m real sorry for comin’ so late like this. but, you were closest, and i— uh, i need your help. if you don’t like blood... tell me now, and i’ll go. ”

✉️| 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.

marclarkin:

“Damn, I ain’t had a good sleep like that since that bitch took my house,” Marc remarked as he came out of an extra room in Jax’s place. He’d been chasing a new bounty and had been in the neighborhood when the two of them had tried to out beat each other up. In the end, Marc had left him handcuffed to an iron fence outside and went into his cousin’s place to get cleaned up. Too tired to go home, he’d knocked out in his cousin’s place. Marc combed his hand through his hair and walked to the kitchen, opening the milk and taking a large chug from it.

@theprodigalsoldier​

marc showing up at all hours of the night, in various states of injury, duress, and pulverization, had stopped being surprising long ago. after all, jaxon did the same, after bar fights that got out of hand. marc had a little more of an excuse for his injuries, with the whole “doing good” and getting paid thing. jaxon didn’t complain (much). he’d rather marc come here, somewhere safe, then another place, where sharks could smell blood in the water. (not that jax worried about marc taking care of himself. it was more that general, perpetual state of worry that seemed the norm for the marine vet.)  sat at the kitchen table, jaxon leaned back and sipped at his coffee as marc emerged from the guest bedroom. “ yer lucky i’m not my mama. usin’ profanity and drinkin’ out of the carton. that’d get you slapped at the very least. if not fuckin’ kicked out, ” he chuckled, flicking a piece of toast crust at marc’s back. “ there’s coffee. though i really ought’a check you for a concussion first. ”

tylerbeyond:

“your mom sends you cupcakes to annoy you?” tyler asked, skeptically, but taking two cupcakes nonetheless. “i wish my mom annoyed me with home made cupcakes. my mom just annoys me with complaining about why i don’t get along with my grandfather.” he began licking the icing off the first cupcake. “so what’s the occassion? like, literally to annoy you, or a congratulations maybe?” his wide eyes and bouncing leg made it seem like he’d already had five cupcakes. “and why do you look so bummed out?” this time there was more concern in his voice.

“ she’s fuckin’... sneaky, ” jax scowled slightly. he knew he was being ridiculous. it was cupcakes, and it was his birthday. but his mama’s slightly sarcastic smile as she sent him off with cupcakes and made the girls sing happy birthday to him over breakfast told him that she was at least slightly teasing him.  “ what’s th’ deal with your grandfather? ” he asked, curiosity getting the best of him. tyler seemed to enjoy the cupcake, and jax forced himself to stop being a grump and give it a try.  “ eh. it’s my birthday, ” jax shrugged, pinching off a piece of the cupcake to taste. they were good, of course. but his mama knew he wasn’t super fond of sweets.  “ jus’ not a big fan of my birthday, ya know? which, i know. makes me sounds like a fuckin’ buzzkill. but i dunno. ”

♥ ❦ ♤

♥ - Something they like about your muse.

how much god damn fun he is. jax is a little jealous about how carefree tyler can be. but he loves how easily tyler gets him to loosen up and just enjoy life. tyler reminds him of his younger self, when he was boxing and when he was first in the marine. how much more mischievous and fun-loving he was. before life got fucked up. jaxon loves that tyler reminds him to have fun. 

❦ - Something they hate about your muse.

as much as he loves how non-serious tyler can be, jaxon also hates it too. he can tell there’s a lot more going on beneath the wild grins and wild times, and jaxon worry about his friend. but tyler doesn’t seem to take much seriously, and jaxon doubts he could get tyler to talk honestly about the more serious and more troubling parts of life. 

♤ - What they thought about your muse when first meeting.

“ this kid is gonna get me in so much trouble. and it’s gonna a god damn fun time. ”

⌚ :))))

“ 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