knoxaf:
For the majority of that hour Knox was busy playing Panda Pop. The night was pretty dull for the most part; until he was notified of someone coming to sleep off the alcohol in their system. Knox sighs and starts to get shit ready for another cell to be occupied.
“You look rough– want a wet wipe or somethin’ like that?” Knox offered as he’s setting the small box of apple juice and crackers at an accessible area. “Uh, the fridge has been right fucked for the last couple days. Meaning we couldn’t refrigerate our drinks. Hence everything bein’ room temp.”
@tatemcallisterr
One would think having a very close friend that works in the police department would get him out of things like spending the night in a cell sleeping off the alcohol he had just consumed. And yet here he was, doing just that. Tossing his shoes across the cell he practically glared at the officer that was babysitting him for the night. “No, I don’t want a fucking wet wipe.” He had slept in far worse conditions than the state he was in now. Letting out a sigh Tate looked over at the provisions left for him. “Damn. I was really looking forward to my gourmet meal being nice and cold. This night is just full of disappointment.”
beautifulburnout:
In a lot of ways Tate was like the second younger brother Jonny never had. He was the polar opposite of Henry, of course, but it didn’t mean that Jonny cared for him any less. It was hard for him to see Tate like this. He was clearly suffering and Jonny knew that the stubborn ass wouldn’t be taking any advice any time soon. But that didn’t dissuade him from trying to look after the younger man either. After mixing the sugar into his coffee he sipped on it but he was glad he piqued Tate’s curiosity. “It’ll actually help you sleep and make you wanna eat.” He knew that Tate wasn’t open to a lot of suggestions right now, he was pretty resistant to most things lately, including taking care of himself, so Jonny wasn’t sure how he’d take the suggestion. “Weed,” he replied matter of fact as he took another drink. The artist sighed when he heard about Tate being unable to sleep, but he wasn’t surprised. He couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now but he could at least try to help. “I know it sounds like hippy bullshit, but it’ll make you feel better. Relax you at least.” Jonny paused as if he was considering something. Yeah, it was early as fuck but it wasn’t like either of them were going to sleep any time soon. “If you want you can come over. Have a joint, play with my puppy and chill by the koi pond. I know you haven’t felt up to much lately but it’ll just be you and me. No pressure.”
Tate should have been grateful that he had people like Jonny and Jaxon to try and look out for him. But every time either one of them tried to cheer him up or give him a suggestion he just sort of shut down. Taking suggestions meant that he had a real problem. And god damn, he did not want to think about having a real problem. Honestly, since Jaxon had suggested smoking days earlier the more he had thought about it, the more he thought maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. After all, he wasn’t enlisted anymore. No more drug tests, no more having to worry about what could go wrong if he did do it. While Tate seriously weighed the pros and cons of Jonny’s offer he continued sipping on his coffee. Honestly, what the hell else did he have to do today? And what if it did end up helping him? His doctor kept telling him to get out of the house more and do whatever he thought would help. Maybe this wasn’t exactly what the doctor had in mind, but who cares? “Yeah, I haven’t felt up to much lately.” He replied before setting down his now half empty coffee cup and letting out a quiet sigh. “What the hell -- why not? It’s not like I have anything to lose, right?” He shrugged.
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.
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.
I punched a wall. And then I punched it a few more times. It was the first time I felt anything all day.
(via 50shades-of-you-and-i)
I used to punch walls until my knuckles bled because I was filled with rage and anger, now I punch walls until they bleed just to fucking feel something, or to at least try.
(via joellewritcs)
Have you ever asked yourself, do monsters make war, or does war make monsters?
Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone (via thequotejournals)
I scrub and scrub until my body bleeds, convince myself I'm coming clean, forget and ignore who I used to be. That kid is never coming back.
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