And A Hopeful Rhythm Woke Within Him She's Singing To Me "Glory" Had Some Letters Written, 'course She's

beautifulburnout:

Any smile that had been on his face faded away instantly when Jaxon both said he shouldn’t be there and he should go. It was amazing how much that hurt because despite everything that had happened, he was glad to see Jaxon. Apparently that was only a one sided feeling, but Jonny supposed he should have seen that coming. He was glad for the distraction of Jamie trying to get closer and so Jonny took a small step forward and leaned down so the dog could get a sniff at his hand. He could tell he was just excited and curious, and Jonny hoped that it encouraged Jaxon to wait even for just a moment. “Finally got your dogs, huh?” He looked up with a hint of a fond smile on his lips before he moved to stand again. He couldn’t count how many times Jaxon talked about wanting dogs.  There was a lot he wanted to say but none of it sounded right. ‘I’m sorry, I should have called, you were right’, just to name a few. Maybe he should have let him go but after all this time Jonny still found himself drawn to Jaxon and he didn’t want to miss this chance he never through he’d get. “Marines and a cop. Yeah, I can see that. You were always good at looking after people.” ‘Including me.’  He shifted where he stood. Jonny was still unable to hold still even after all this time. “So, since you went out of your way to come see it…what do you think?” He nodded towards the mural, but really he was just beating around the bush. He never thought he’d get the chance to see Jaxon again and now he couldn’t let him just walk away.

he felt unsure and unsteady. ten years past, and neither of them had ever reached out. jaxon thought that would forever be a distant memory of ache and regret. but jonny wasn't a memory anymore. he was standing in front of jax, alive and emotive and still just as awful at hiding emotions from manifesting on his expression. jaxon didn't miss the shift, and he felt a sharp stab of guilt. Jamie wouldn't quit, and jax let out the leash a little. "uh, yeah... I did," he replied, looking down at them with the slightest twitch of a smile. as Jamie enjoyed licking at jonny's hand, ginger leaned heavier against jax and grumbled out a low growl, wary of the stranger and Jaxon's tension. "ginger, it's fine, baby. relax," he muttered. "they're rescues. dog fights," he said to jonny, still quiet and withdrawn and guarded. he was too raw to be anything else.

part of him just wanted to say fuck it to all the complicated feelings trapped in his chest, and just hug jonny, or kiss him, or say i'm sorry i was stupid please take me back . but it'd been 10 years. and it felt like so many lifetimes past. and fear iced through his veins, freezing him into a quiet distance. jax just nodded at jonny's response, but looked back at the mural. "it's beautiful. of course. you did it," he replied, glancing over at jonny for just a second. it was all that he could handle. his grip tightened on the leash, and ginger growled lowly again. "i'm sorry. she's really protective. she doesn't trust anyone until i make it clear that i do. it helps if i hug people. then she's friendly," he sighed, stroking her head. it did nothing to dissuade her half-raised hackles.

the lost boys // jaxathan

…and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself.

Emily Dickinson, The Letters of Emily Dickinson. (via foism)

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.

Hollywood Stars | Kellan Lutz

@tatemcallisterr

⌚ :))))

“ 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

There are so many pieces of you I see in myself. So many slivers of your soul that slipped into mine. Part of me loves them, I can feel them spreading warmth and sunlight to the darkest parts of my soul. I know that wherever I am the best thing that ever happened to me is in me. Another part of me hates them, I want to rip them out of my chest with my bare hands and crush them. Not in anger but in frustration that only a little crumb of you is here when I need all of you. I love you too much

Mustxngkid (via wnq-writers)

@beautifulburnout

hinemoanax:

Kora blinks in the darkness as the man on their porch speaks - they recognize the voice, and as their eyes adjust, their brows lift. They hadn’t expected Jax to be the one to turn up on their doorstep - usually if anyone arrived at their house in the middle of the night it was a drunk college-friend who’d thought it’d be easier to uber to Kora’s and crash on their couch. 

“Oh. Sup, dude.” 

Kora blinks a few more times like a sleepy child trying to process something, kind of just letting his words rush over them. They don’t say anything for a second, snapping the door shut. It opens a moment later, as they’d had to slide the chain off before letting him in. 

“I can handle blood,” they say, pulling the door open to let him in. Normally they’d probably be a little freaked out in a situation like this, but they were at that stage of sleep-deprivation where everything felt just a little surreal, like they were watching themselves from afar. Like they were existing but slightly to the left, or like they were watching it on tv.

“Uh… What the fuck happened?” They ask as they usher him inside, shutting the door and locking it again out of habit. They scuttle across the room afterwards to flick on a main light, illuminating the room that’d previously only been lit by a side lamp and the blue glow of the television. 

“If you don’t mind me asking, of course.” They’re quiet a moment before flapping a hand at him, dragging a chair out from under the kitchen table and gesturing it as they try to think back to that first aid course they took in high school. 

“Uh. You should sit, or something.”

jaxon groaned as he shifted, the wound in lower back shooting sharply with pain. this had to take the cake for one of the fucking stupidest thing he’d gotten himself into. seeing kora’s hesitant reaction, he couldn’t help be feel guilty for imposing himself (and all his bullshit) on the younger one. but kora was someone he thought as solid, and he’d definitely be making it up to them in the future. hard. 

“ ‘course you can ask. i mean, i’m showin’ up here late as fuck, bleeding. kinda owe it to you, ” he huffed with a soft chuckle.  “ i, uh... got into a bar fight. which, is dumb enough. but people are stupid and crazy, and this guy’s buddy stabbed me with a god damn nail. and i.... i kinda need you t’ pull it out. i’ll talk you through it. ” he offered up, a small consolation to an admittedly crazy request. he’d do it himself, but with the nail shoved into the meat on the left side of his lower back, he couldn’t really reach it on his own. 

he sat with a groan, sitting sideways and pulling his shirt higher up off his back. the nail was protruding about an inch out of his back. driving here was a fucking bitch, but it was the reason he came here. it was the closest. he set a small first aid kit on the kitchen table (one of the ones he kept in his truck). “ if this is too much, tell me. i don’t wanna ask you t’ do something you’re not okay with. i know it’s a lot. ”

jaxon sighed and picked at the cupcake in his hand. the small tray of chocolate treats was his mama’s way of being cheeky about his birthday. it was silly, feeling like he’d grown out of birthdays, but after 8 years of them in afghanistan— the novelty had definitely worn off. now all the happy birthday texts, facebook notifications, and voicemails just served as a reminder that he was 31 and only 2 years into his career. in any case, he definitely didn’t need this many fucking cupcakes. 

“ please, for the love of jesus, eat one of these cupcakes. or all of them. my mama made these jus’ to annoy me. ”

marclarkin:

the sweet smell of heaven wafted through his nostrils and his feet lead him to the kitchen, following the scent of coffee. jax’s coffee was moderate enough for his tastes. he would pick up worse or better, depending on where he found himself. his cousin’s brew only cost him an earful lecture, most of the time. he could handle that. with his ex-wife, there were many o’times that he tuned her out. jax was not difficult to tune out too. “i’m not stupid enough to be drinkin your ma’s carton anyway. you, i’m not so scared of,” he teased back and put the milk back before grabbing a mug. “check yourself for a concussion. i’m fine,” he replied as he poured himself some coffee. as marc sipped from the cup, he walked over to a window and glanced down to see his bounty still cuffed to the gate. a broad smirk crossed his lips. “fucking idiot,” he mumbled and turned back to his cousin. “what, no pancakes? or, what do you prefer, crepes? you are a terrible host, primo,” he mocked his cousin with a shrug and continued to sip his bean brew.

“ we’re not kids anymore, marcus. i could definitely kick your ass now, ” he shot back, trying to be serious. but the smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. marc and all his bullshit amused jaxon, despite himself. he was the closest thing jaxon had to a brother, and his fondness couldn’t be overridden no matter how annoying marc was.  “ you show up bleeding at my house, and yer gonna be grumpy ‘bout me wanting to make sure your brain ain’t fuckin’ bruised? ” jax replied, dubious and giving him a look that was half scolding and half a glare.  “ i give you a bed and coffee, and yer still fuckin’ complaining? god, yer a brat. if you really wanna whine more about it, i’ll make you french toast. but fuck, i’m way too lazy t’ make you fuckin’ crepes. you could say please, ya know? instead of insulting me. ” despite their near constant bickering, jax was always on the verge of a smile, and he genuinely enjoyed his cousin’s company. no one else would guess that they actually really did like each other though.