Tatemcallisterr-blog

✉️ | DANNIE & TATE

dannie: that is typically what people get shot with.

dannie: yup, right in the hip. then i got picked up by police and was held in a fucking psych ward for three days.

tate: fuck off, i thought maybe you made a typo or some shit.

tate: jesus fuck, dan. are you okay now? that's insane.

knoxaf:

Watching the shoes fly across the cell only made the rookie cop snicker in reply. He could understand the aggravation to being sent to the drunk tank to sleep everything off. Knox even has an idea of how bad the hangover was going to be when it’s over. 

“Right,” he replies with a polite tone. “I’ll be here– just be here. Let me know if there’s anything you need, alright?” After he gave the other a type of run down, be then started back to the desk not far. Returning to the game of Panda Pop. Yet, when it got too quiet, Knox glances from his phone. “The offer still stands if you wanna clean up!”

It was obvious that this guy was pretty new to station. Mostly because Tate was just there not too long ago and he didn’t recognize the male. He wondered if they always stuck the new guys with drunk watch. What a way to start your exciting career as a police officer. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.” He mumbled, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. When he spoke up again after a few minutes Tate shook his head. “Again, I’ll pass on the wet wipe.” He paused. “It is hot as hell in here though. You wanna turn on a fan or something?”

why is rage the only emotion I’m good at feeling

I am troubled and harsh and hopeless. Though I have love inside me. But I don’t know how to use love. Sometimes it scratches like barbs.

Clarice Lispector, tr. by Elizabeth Lowe, from Água Viva / The Stream of Life (via violentwavesofemotion)

theprodigalsoldier:

@tatemcallisterr asked “ ❢ ” [ ❢ ] my muse discovers yours all bloodied and bruised.

he’d gone through the list. yoga, taking a long walk, reading a book, doing something with his hands. he was really trying to find better coping mechanisms, but the ones that the counselor at the VA recommended just really were not cutting it. or doing much of anything at all. with the reappearance of jonny in his life, and all the complicated bullshit that came along with that, plus the hardship his family was going through with the cafe not making as much as it needed to… the inside of jaxon’s head was not a fun place. and god damn, he just wanted everything to slow down for a moment. he wanted the world to just get a little quieter. four shots of whiskey and a bar fight later, things had slowed down. his brain could only focus on the throbbing and the bleeding and the blurring effects of the whiskey. jax sipped slowly at his flask, sitting on the concrete edge of a planter outside the bar. blood slid slowly from the re-opened cut on his cheek, and leaked from the inside of his mouth. it should be trouble that jaxon felt calm, and centered like this, for the first time in weeks. 

Tate should not be out, let alone going to a bar but at this point he didn’t care. He’d run out of alcohol in his house and his favorite liquor store wasn’t open this late ironically. In hind’s sight, drinking the last of the whiskey in his house probably should have been a sign to just stop drinking. But two glasses wasn’t nearly enough to get him drunk enough to fall asleep. After getting a combined fifteen hours of sleep the last few days, he thought maybe the only way to fall asleep was to get drunk enough to just pass out. Which deep down he knew was a horrible idea and just an excuse to drink, but that wasn’t the point. As he approached the bar and recognized the figure sitting outside it seemed fate was not going to let him get drunk tonight. “Well, you look like shit.” He spoke up upon getting a closer look at his friend. Taking a seat next to Jaxon he let out a soft sigh. “Aren’t cops supposed to be the ones that break up fights?”

✉️ | DANNIE & TATE

dannie: hey, so shit head, when were you going to tell me you were back in town?

dannie: unless you already did and i just forgot, in that case, hey shit head, why didn't you remind me?

tate: i love when you give me cute nicknames.

tate: i've been a little busy since i got back, haven't had much time to let anyone know. also i've been trying to avoid human contact as much as possible so yeah.

theprodigalsoldier:

jaxon tucked his hands into his leather jacket, a Marlboro Red cigarette hanging from his lips, as he waited for tate outside McCormick’s. the text and the request came somewhat as a surprise to him, especially considering tate’s history. he’d always regarded the man as a serial monogamist. and he was pretty sure tate agreed. after the heartbreak of his high school sweetheart that dear john’d him, tate hadn’t ever been interested in going out to bars with jax. but now… he was. jax was trying to be optimistic about the night, rather than worried about what it really meant that tate was going out just to get laid. 

“ hey, man, ” jax smirked, taking the cigarette from his mouth and reaching out to grasp tate’s hand. “ want a cigarette? ” he offered, wanting to feel out tate’s vibe before they headed in. 

@tatemcallisterr

Was Tate maybe a little too intoxicated for his own good? Now that he was on his way to meet Jaxon at the bar, he was realizing that he was very, very much too intoxicated for his own good. In the past, Tate had never been one for hookups. But everything in his life was shit right now and dammit, he wanted to get laid. Is that such a crime? He shouldn’t have to explain himself. Every other guy on earth goes out to bars and meets women only to spend one night with them. Deep down he knew this wasn’t him, but he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about much of anything anymore.

“Hey!” Tate dragged out his greeting, a small smile on his face as he slapped his hand against Jaxon’s instead of shaking it like a normal, sober person. Nodding in response to his friend’s offer, he smiled. “I would love one.” He held out his hand.