✉️ | DANNIE & TATE

shvdykiid:

                      When the male looks at him, (with that stupid movie star look to him) he swears if he wore panties, they would be dropping. He needs to snap himself out of it because Ollie is pretty sure Mr. Happymeal is trying to communicate. 

“I know a few places you can take it. I had to get the screen repaired before and there’s actually a kiosk kinda deal. You leave it for a few hours and you get a new scree,” was he babbling? Possible.

If Tate wasn’t so shit with technology perhaps he would have tried fixing the screen himself. But he was sure that if he did try it, he would only end up breaking the phone even more. The younger male was looking at him in a sort of strange way but Tate tried to ignore it as much as he could.

“It takes a few hours just to fix the screen?” He questioned, as if he was some kind of busy person with a job or something. Tate had nothing but time to get the stupid thing fixed, he was more so annoyed that it had broken so easily.

Those who are heartless once cared too much.

Unknown (via wordsnquotes)

theprodigalsoldier:

while there was a large part of him that still really enjoyed fighting… he didn’t enjoy getting “caught”. but he could breathe easy, and his thoughts didn’t feel unmanageable. with all of that, it was hard to regret the decisions he made and the actions he’d carried out. despite the bleeding. jaxon scoffed at tate’s comment, licking at his split lip and screwing the cap back onto his flask.  “ some think th’ blood makes me look tough, ” he shrugged. “ and girls jus’ wanna patch me up. so. ” he chuckled dryly, sitting up a little straighter despite the ache soreness in his shoulders. “ supposed to. and yer not supposed t’ be drinkin’. yet here we are, ” he pointed at, offering up his flask to tate.  “ will it help if i tell you th’ guy was a creep? ”

Tate could understand why Jaxon fought. He probably got about the same feeling Tate did when he got into an occasional bar fight. Relief. Although Tate didn’t have nearly as much to lose as Jaxon --- his job, for one. He let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Or dumb.” He didn’t mean to say that out loud, but it was too late now. He was definitely drunk already. “Maybe I should get in fights more often.” He joked, leaning back on the bench and letting out a heavy sigh at the mention of the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be drinking. “Fair enough.” He shrugged, accepting the flask from Jaxon and unscrewing it. “Sure, I guess.” Tate paused. “I’m the last person who can judge you, man. Fight whoever you want, it’s your face.”

why should i resolve things peacefully when i can fucking punch you in the face

beautifulburnout:

Jonny was that strange mix of morning and night person. Of course that was mostly due to the insomnia he suffered from most of his life, but it didn’t really get to him now. He was up early enough that he needed coffee and a lot of it. The bell to the diner rang as he pushed through it. He expected to see it empty besides the staff but a familiar face sat at one of the tables and Jonny approached with concern. Tate didn’t even look at him and he honestly humored the idea of going to grab him more coffee but he didn’t want to encourage his antisocial tendencies either. Instead Jonny joined him at the table with an amused arch of his brow. “You know most people eat when they order food,” he pointed out and when the waitress joined them Jonny ordered. “Another cup of coffee for him and one for me to start, thanks.” He smiled at her before turning back to his companion. He didn’t want to ask what was wrong because he already knew Tate was going through a rough time, so instead he just sat back and plucked the toast from his plate and started crunching it. 

Six months ago Tate could have put away three times this much food in about half the time. But lately he had a hard time focusing on anything, let alone eating a meal. Since he had been back in Vegas he probably lost fifteen pounds, only adding to his run down and exhausted look. Glancing down at his plate before looking across the table at Jonny he just shrugged. “I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.” Pursing his lips he dropped the fork onto his plate and leaned back in his booth while his friend chowed down on his toast. Normally he would have made some comment about Jonny not eating his food, but Tate just simply didn’t have the energy. The waitress returned with their coffee in hand and Tate immediately picked up the cup and took a sip of the hot liquid before thanking the woman quietly as she walked away from them once again. “You’re out and about early.” Tate comments, his hands still wrapped around the warmth of his cup of coffee. 

My poor mother begged for a sheep but raised a wolf.

Michelle K., Four Rhythms. (via paralvman)

myhemsworth:

Independence Day: Resurgence | Portraits.