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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Latest Posts by tatemcallisterr-blog - Page 3
⌚ :))))
“ 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
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?”
theprodigalsoldier:
yeah, he knew that feeling well. too well. it made his chest ache for his friend. and it made him angry that he didn’t know how to help tate. especially when tate was so adverse to help. “ they say therapy is supposed to… i dunno. do somethin’, ya know? ” the suggestion was tentative and gentle, like he knew tate wouldn’t respond well to it. but he had to try. there had to be something. even if talking didn’t help the famously tight-lipped man, maybe there was something else they could recommend. at least, that’s what jaxon hoped. “ yer liver being fucked up doesn’t sound like ‘not a big deal’. and that fuckin’ sucks. who else is gonna appreciate shitty whiskey with me? ” he teased gently, a small smirk flickering at the corner of his lips. “ oh, we got a friend in common. jonny. maybe in place of drinkin’, get stoned with him. ” the suggestion was only half serious, and the light in jaxon’s eyes said as much. he was trying to be helpful. trying to make tate feel like there was a little hope. despite how fucking tired he felt.
Tate saw it coming, Jaxon’s careful first suggestion. It was the most logical thing to tell someone in his current state, and it certainly wasn’t the first time anyone had mentioned the idea to him. However, the way Jaxon proposed the idea was exactly why Tate wouldn’t do it. They both knew Tate wasn’t one to open up easily, or at all really. He used to be different. Talking about how he was feeling used to just come naturally to him. But a lot of things that used to come naturally were just not as easy anymore. “I’m not going to therapy.” Was all Tate said in response, completely shut down to even thinking about the suggestion seriously. He didn’t want to relive those days in his dreams and he sure as hell didn’t want to have to talk about them either. “It’s not fucked up, it’s just...stressed.” Tate decided before quirking a brow as Jaxon went on. “Oh yeah? You know Jonny, huh? Small world.” He shook his head. “I don’t know if anything would take the place of drinking. Although it might help me sleep for more than five hours.” It might also help him eat a decent meal once in a while, but he left that part out. Jaxon had enough worry in his eyes looking at him, Tate didn’t want to give him anything else.
✉️ | 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.
✉️ | DANNIE & TATE
dannie: dude, fucking same. only slightly different. i was out of it for the most part. don't remember much until my kind of friend jonny found me and pulled me in.
dannie: ran out of his house and then got shot. fun times.
tate: hold on, you got shot?! like with a gun?! what the fuck dannie
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.
✉️ | DANNIE & TATE
dannie: ha. i feel that.
dannie: not much changes for me in terms of that shit.
dannie: were you around for that crazy storm?
tate: i don't blame you for that.
tate: yeah, i was. i walked around in it for a few hours. until jaxon found me, then he made me go inside.
beautifulburnout:
The fact that Tate was having a hard time lately wasn’t news to Jonny, but it was still hard to see his friend like this. He knew that he was lost right now, a feeling Jonny knew all too well. He didn’t totally understand what Tate was going through but at least he could be here for him. Maybe even bring a spark back to him, even if it did involve annoying him slightly.Jonny finished the toast and folded his hands on the table as he looked across at Tate. He could see how warn he was and he had to wonder when he last got a good night of sleep. “Yeah I guess not.” He didn’t want to mention how it looked like Tate could use a good meal because he knew that this could be a delicate situation but he did want to encourage him to eat something. “I know something that would make you hungry, “he gave the man across from him a little smirk as he took a sip of the hot coffee brought to him. He shrugged at Tate’s comment, not at all concerned about himself. “Yeah insomnia is a bitch but it ain’t nothing new for me…” He set the coffee down and grabbed about 8 sugar packets and started dumping them in one by one. “I could say the same about you though. Get up early not to eat?”
A full night’s sleep was something Tate couldn’t even remember. Whether he was jolted awake by his dreams or he just had incredible insomnia, five or six hours was considered a good night’s sleep in his eyes. He had a feeling that next time he went to see his doctor for a checkup she would have something to say about his current state. He was also sure that Jonny had a few things he wanted to say to him about how he looked, but he wouldn’t actually say them. Part of him was glad for that and the other part of him was annoyed that not only Jonny, but most of his friends were treating him so delicately. But honestly he didn’t want to hear them lecture him on what he needed to do anyways, so he should really be grateful. Tate took another sip of his coffee, holding the warm cup in his hands. Arching his brow at Jonny’s statement he could only imagine what that meant. “Yeah? What is it?” He asked, genuinely curious about what he had in mind. Shaking his head as he watched Jonny pour an endless amount of sugar into his coffee he held back a snide comment about the ratio of sugar to coffee in his cup. Letting out a soft sight he shrugged. “I just couldn’t sleep. Which is a pretty normal thing for me these days.”
supernaturaldaily:
#sasstiel
@theprodigalsoldier
Send ✉ for your muse to receive a letter from my muse!
The beauty you see in me is a reflection of you.
Rumi (via wnq-writers)
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.
theprodigalsoldier:
they’d been through a lot together— overseas, fighting side by side, and abroad, fighting each other. but after years, and months of trying to repair things, tate was coming around, and their friendship had slowly started to rebuild. thank fucking god. jaxon folded his arms on the tabletop, giving tate a quick once over. he knew the look well. on tate, on himself, on other veteran friends. it worried him. but even more, he worried that he wouldn’t be able to help. “ she looks much better in a skirt than me, i can promise you that, ” he teased gently, trying to fight the sympathy from his smile. tate didn’t need that. “ couldn’t sleep, because…— ” he trailed off, but the tension in his expression spoke enough. it was the reason jaxon worked graveyard. those nightmares were easier for him to deal with when he slept during the day. but he knew tate’s nightmares manifested worse than his did. “ does anything help? ”
as much as tate hated to admit it, jaxon knew him better than probably anyone else on earth. they had been through a lot together throughout their friendship, quite a bit more than a normal friendship could handle. tate knew that jaxon had been through and still dealt with some of the same things he was currently going through, maybe not as intensely but still. he knew it was why jaxon preferred to work at night and sleep during the day. even when tate tried to sleep during the day he was jolted awake by the nightmares. finally setting his fork down he rested his elbows on the table and let out a heavy sigh as his gaze met jaxon’s. “because every time damn i close my eyes i’m back over there. except it’s fucking worse.” he shook his head, putting his head in his hands. it made him angry when he thought about it --- it made him feel weak and god, he hated feeling weak. “alcohol helps. i’m not supposed to be drinking though.”
✉️ | DANNIE & TATE
dannie: hey, look, i know things are hard right now but they will get better. they just have to, right?
dannie: oh, y'know, just staying bitter and angry about the state of the world and the shitfuckers living in it. nothing too new.
tate: i don't see how they could get much worse at this point. but knowing my luck i wouldn't doubt that they will get worse.
tate: good shit. i'm glad at least some things have stayed the same since i've been gone.
✉️ | DANNIE & TATE
dannie: i figured if i actually gave you something cute that you would be in utter shock it was me. so deal with what i gave you.
dannie: do you wanna talk about it? i'm all ears.
dannie: or eyes. whatever the fuck.
tate: you're right, i definitely would have questioned your identity.
tate: really i'm just fucking depressed, there's not much else to say. my life sucks right now.
tate: what's new with you?
✉️ | 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.
