he Can’t Outrun The Sentiments That Poison His Body.        

Best of the Mikaelsons on TVD - 42 / ∞

theprodigalsoldier:

jaxon sighed at tate’s response— it was the one he expected. and feared. it seemed like no one left the war whole. physically, mentally, emotionally. they were all tainted and damaged, and nightmares fucked with sleep and sanity in a very special way. he wished he had an answer for tate. a way to help make them go away, or even ease them slightly. but fuck… he’d been searching for that answer for two years and had come up with very little.  “ hey, man. it’s alright. don’t think i’ve ever met a soldier that didn’t have nightmares. yer not alone there, ” he offered quietly, intimately familiar with feeling weak or broken for struggling like this. fuck, he still felt like that a lot. but it helped… knowing his brothers felt like it too.  “ why aren’t you supposed to be drinkin’? i thought you were all healed up. ”

It was hard to talk about, even with someone like Jaxon who could relate so strongly to what he was going through. That was a big reason Tate kept insisting he didn’t need to see a therapist or go to any support groups. Talking about things had never helped him deal with them anyways. “I know it’ll probably never go away completely ---- I just wish it would get better. I’m fucking tired.” Tate knew he wasn’t the first person to go to war and come back having nightmares about it, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. But when he wakes up at night, alone, in an empty house, it’s hard not to feel isolated. “I am for the most part. Doc just found some problems with my liver when they were doing blood tests. It’s not a big deal.” At least that’s what his doctor had told him, it wouldn’t be a big deal as long as he didn’t drink so often. Which was proving difficult when it was his go-to coping mechanism. 

beautifulburnout:

When Tate agreed to his offer Jonny was just about ready to launch into a speech about taking help when you needed it but instead he ended up blinking in surprise. A smile slowly spread across his features and the artist set his coffee mug down with a soft thud. “Well, alright then.” He dug into his wallet and set some cash down on the table, giving Tate’s uneaten and now cold breakfast a nod. “My treat. C’mon.” Jonny stood to head outside and pushed through the door with a jingle of the bell. He didn’t want to give Tate a chance to change his mind, especially when he really though that this would end up helping him. “I walked, I don’t live far. Ya on your feet or are we taking your rig?” His hand slipped into his pocket and Jonny placed a vaping rig to his lips before blowing out a big cotton candy scented cloud. “We might wanna stop and get some munchies either way. Ya might not be hungry now, but ya will be.”

It was pretty clear that Jonny was surprised Tate had agreed so easily. Not that he blamed him, he’d be surprised too. Although Tate hadn’t expected to be leaving right that second, he wasn’t going to complain. It wasn’t like he had any plans. Plus, there wasn’t exactly anything left for him in the diner. No appetite kind of made staying there any longer redundant. So he mumbled a ‘thanks’ when Jonny paid for his meal and followed him outside the door. Tate shook his head in response to Jonny’s question. “I took a cab here. Too tired to drive or walk.” He glanced over at Jonny and then thought for a moment. “Do you want to just order a pizza? Or is that not a normal thing to do?” He shrugged. “Or we can stop somewhere, I don’t really care.”

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.

supernaturaldaily:

#sasstiel

@theprodigalsoldier​

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)