“ I Think I’m Havin’ A Crisis, Becks, ” Jaxon Said With No Preface Or Greeting As He Sat Across

tatemcallisterr:

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?”

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? ”

@tatemcallisterr

Because you look after me and kiss me till I bleed I don't want anything, but all of you I know I swore, I said I'll never love again But—man, oh, man—you're my best friend

then & now // jaxathan aesthetic

@beautifulburnout​ & @theprodigalsoldier

shvdykiid:

                        The pair share a strange relationship and it shows Oliver holds a fondness for the man currently scowl. The ginger just rolls his eyes and takes one of the many cupcakes. Gingerly taking a bite before he begins to start the bickering that just seems to always happen between the two. Maybe it was the clash between personalities. Jax is warmer in comparison to Oliver’s standoffish personality.

“What’s the big deal? You’re still young and got loads of years to go through before you start needing my help around here,” Oliver teased as he held a serious face. He takes another bite to enjoy the cupcake.  “Are these homemade or from a bakery?”

sure, they hadn’t met in the most conventional of ways. but jaxon’s life hadn’t really been conventional anyways. so what was one more? plus, the kid was interesting and amusing, and the morgue was a quiet place for jax to get away when he was tired of all the bro-y cop shit.  “ you gonna be my hospice? or jus’ gonna do my autopsy? ” he shot back with a mirrored teasing. the cupcake was mostly unconsumed, but he picked at the frosting, very slowly eating it.  “ homemade. mama likes to be smug about doin’ shit by hand for me. just tell me if i’m bein’ a fucking brat. ”

✉ |:

To: Jonathan Daniel Winchesterc/o Charlotte Sawyer. 

[ separately enclosed ] : 

Auntie— If I don’t come home, can you make sure this letter gets to Jonny? I’m not sure where he lives now, but I’m sure you could find him on facebook or something. Thank you. I love you. 

Dear Jonny. 

I know this is too many years too late, and this definitely is the worst way to find out about… all of this. So I’m sorry for this, first of all. Anyways… 

If you’re reading this letter (fuck, how cliche) … I didn’t come home from my deployment. And not like, I ran away to France kind of didn’t come home. Like, never coming home. I don’t know if you even know I joined the Marines after I stopped fighting. But I did. Off to serve my country. So, if you’re reading this, I died for my country. 

And now, writing this, days before my first tour, I know that it’s a real possibility. So I’m putting certain things in place. My will, letters to the girls, and my mama, and auntie. Stuff like that. And a letter to you. Because I’ve been selfish and stupid enough with you in my life. I can’t be selfish and stupid in my death too. If I die before I ever get to see you again and tell you this shit in person, I want you to know some things. 

I’m sorry, Jay. I’m so fucking sorry. I was such a fucking asshole back then. I was possessive, and jealous, and over-protective. And I pushed you away. I made things miserable between us, because I couldn’t fucking handle my shit, and my feelings. It’s been two years, and I swear to god I think about you and us at least once a day. There’s always something that reminds me of you, or reminds me of how stupid I’ve been. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger, or more rational, or more patient, or more kind. I’m sorry I wasn’t better. I need you to know that what happened between us is the biggest regret of my life. Hurting you is the worst thing I’ve ever done. And at the point that you’re reading this, I’ve probably killed at least one person. I’d still regret hurting you and losing you more. 

The truth is that… I love you. Not just “I love you, man” kind of love. I’m in love with you. Yeah, present tense. I have been for so fucking long. I think I first realized how I felt about you…. 6 months after we met. I think even during that time I was in denial, because I didn’t know how to reconcile the fact that you were a guy. But it didn’t matter. I was confused, and I didn’t understand… But I understood that you smiling at me was the best thing I’ve ever fucking felt. And I understood that if I smiled, you’d smile back. You always joked that I only ever smiled with you… That’s why. I didn’t care about smiling at anyone else, because it didn’t feel like it did with you. God, how gay is that? haha. Guess I shouldn’t be confused about that anymore, huh? 

You were my best friend, Jonny. You were the only person I ever wanted to spend time with, and I only ever wanted you to spend time with me. You going away to college was so fucking hard, because I knew it meant that I’d missed my chance. Whatever slim chance I ever could have had. But you were going away, and you hadn’t even been there two weeks, and you were already telling me about this new guy you were dating. And fuck… Being jealous was bad enough, but then you were telling me that he was taking you to parties and introducing you to that… bullshit. And then i was angry, and protective, and scared for you. All of that, plus being so hopelessly fucking in love with you, and so god damn lonely… I didn’t know how to handle all those fucking feelings. So I was just a dick. I was mean to you because all my frustration just turned into aggression, i guess… Then you were upset and hurt, and you didn’t understand, and I just got more angry and frustrated at myself. I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t better.

I remember that night. When we were so fucking crossfaded, and at that stupid party, and you kissed me. Oh my god. You laughed when you kissed me, and I’m pretty sure I almost passed out. You sitting on my lap was nothing new, but I can remember the way you felt that night so clearly. And the way my heart pounded so hard the whole time. And everything that happened after that… I remember. I should have said something, but… I just thought, you were drunk, and you wanted affection. And I was always there to give that to you. Why would this be any different? Plus, i was so drunk, and after kissing you, I couldn’t figure out how to ask you to stay. I thought you were gonna come back. I woke up in the middle of the night, after I passed out, and I was so heartbroken, because you weren’t there. You’d left. And I didn’t understand why. You never leave. I figured that meant you regretted what happened. And I was so scared to have that confirmed, so I never brought it up. And I figured if you wanted it to happen again, you would have said something. Because… you’re you. And you’re not afraid to ask for what you want. But you didn’t ask for me again, and that was my answer. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe that was my biggest mistake. But sometimes I still dream about the way your lips tasted that night. 

Anyways… this is sappy enough. And I realize that this might just make everything worse, especially now that I’m dead. So, I’m sorry. If this makes it worse. But I just couldn’t die without making sure you knew all this stuff. 

I love you, Jay. I’ve loved you, so much, for so long. Don’t let piece of shit guys fuck with you. You’re a god damn masterpiece, kid. And I know you’re gonna put so much beauty in this world. I’m sad I’ll never get to see it. Please, take care of yourself. And find happiness. You deserve it more than anyone I have ever met in this stupid life. 

Give ‘em hell, pretty boy. 

- Jaxon Benjamin Sawyer. (aka jaxy)

if you could go back and change one thing in your life, what would it be?

“ i try not to live in regrets, ya know? try not to wonder how life would be different if this or if that. found it just gets me more in my head. but... i dunno. i wouldn’t have made every excuse in th’ book not to reach out to jonny after our fight. i let my bullshit get in my way for so long, and then after a while... it just was too long, ya know? but yeah. i think things would have been really different for th’ both of us. but who knows? maybe it was supposed to be like this. ”

@beautifulburnout

⌚ :))))

“ 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

Look what they do to you Look what they do to me Must be joking if you think that either one is free, here Get up off your knees, girl Stand face to face with your God And find out what you are (Hello, my name is human)

I'm ready for love and I'm ready for war But I'm ready for more I know that nobody's ever been this fucking ready before, hey (Do you need some time to think it over?)

“ …. — if you wanna start a fight, ya better throw the first punch. 

                                                                                  — m a k e  i t  a  g o o d  o n e . ”

im dealing with my shit the way im dealing with it.  are my methods unhealthy? yes. are they effective? no. am i going to change what im doing? nope.