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duffs-balls · 9 days

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The Dilfest

HELLOOO GUYSS

the title is kinda joke cause this is just a silly story so i cant think of a good title

anyway like i said this is a silly little story abt velvet revolver era duff hihi he makes me so horny please someone let me go back in time and fuck him🤗

IF YOU NOTICE ANY SPELLING/GRAMMAR MISTAKES TELL ME PLEASEEE YOU WOTN SOUND LIKE A NERDY BITCH I PROMISE

ALSO IF UOU HAVE ANY PROMPTS YOUD LIKE ME TO WRITE U CAN COMMENT OR DM ME ALTHOUGJ I DONT WRITE VERY FAST BC IT AINT MY PRIORITY BUT WHATEVA

ANYWAY this is just some fluff bc yes

uhh warnings?? i guess smoking, drinking and dilfs

GRRRR BARK BARK WOOF EGGRRRRRRBARKAAAABRAKWOOOFFFFGRRRRGRRRRRNNNNBARJ BARK BARK WOOF

I saw him there again, smoking a cigar. He looks oh-so hot. His wavy, blonde hair framing his face just right. His low-rise black flare jeans. His tight shirt.

Jesus Christ.

I saw him sitting at the same bar, in the same spot, at the same time a week ago. He wouldn’t order any alcoholic drinks, just water or an energy drink. He was with another guy last week, but he was alone today. I could go and talk to him. Should I? No. Maybe? No, what if he already has someone? No ring. Maybe he’ll think I’m annoying. Should I just wait until he talks to me? Maybe he won’t see me. Is my hair alright? Fuck, he’s so hot. He’s coming my way now.

Hold up, he’s coming my way? Holy shit. Shit, shit, shit. Look away, look away.

“Hey.”

Oh, Lord.

“Huh? Oh, hey.” I smile at him, my heart racing in my chest. He sits down on the chair next to me. Fuck, his thighs. He’s even hotter up close.

“I saw you lookin’ at me, honey.” His smirk. Oh my God, his smirk.

“Oh, did you?” My voice is trembling slightly, an awkward smile on my face. Dumbass. Get your shit together.

“Yeah, I did.” He reaches up and brushes a lock of hair away from my face, tucking it behind my ear. I couldn’t help but lean into his touch. I could feel my cheeks heating up, and the chuckle rumbling from deep in his throat was the confirmation.

“What’s your name, babe?” His voice was low and raspy, the corners of his mouth still curled up into a slight smirk.

“Y/n.” His hand came down onto my thigh, stroking up and down with a gentle but firm grip. I started to relax a little, not as shocked and frozen as I was at first anymore. I glance down at his hand, before adding; “And you are…?”

“Duff.” I didn’t expect a name like that. But then again, he did look like some sort of rockstar. “McKagan.”

Y/n McKagan..

No. I just met him.

“Really? Your name’s Duff?” A small, disbelieving smile tugs at my lips. He chuckles and nods. His laugh was so sexy. So pretty.

“I like that.” I say softly, taking another sip of my drink.

“Yeah?” He couldn’t take his eyes off me. He watches me drink, his eyes locked on my face, before moving down to my neck as I swallow.

“Yeah.” I put my glass back down on the bar before turning to him. I look into his eyes, and completely drift off to a whole ass different universe. Completely lost in each other, none of us says anything. It isn’t a weird, uncomfortable silence, though. It’s just silence, and it’s okay.

Until I snap out of it, clearing my throat as I realise he might not be staring at me in the same way I was at him. I look away, chugging the rest of my drink to try and get my racing mind to calm the fuck down a little.

“Well, I’d better get going.”

WHAT?? No way in HELL that just came out of my mouth. Fuck. Better roll with it now.

“What? Why?” He stands up right after I do, reaching out to grab my hand. Holy shit. He grabbed my hand. Now that we’re both standing up, I notice how he towers over me. How the fuck is he so tall?

“Uh, I told my friend I’d be back by now.” Lie.

“Friend..? Boy… friend?” Was he really asking this? Woah.

“No, no. Not boyfriend. Just.. Friend.” I smile at him, not being able to resist weaving my fingers through his. I can’t believe I’m actually holding hands with him. Oh my god. I can’t.

“Okay, well, I really gotta get rollin’.” I smile at him and let go of his hand, waiting for a moment, unsure of what to do before slowly turning and walking away. I should’ve told him I liked talking to him. Fuck. I might never see him again. Should I just turn around? I could. No, that’d be weird. Why is this so hard? It’s never so hard. Fuck. I’m already out the door now, can’t go back.

I do the riskiest thing and look over my shoulder. He was still looking at me. Shit, shit, shit. What do I do? Panic. Look away. FUCK. Why’d I look away? Oh my God.

I walk home, almost bumping into multiple people on the street because I was so lost in thought. I couldn’t get him out of my head. He was so gorgeous, and so sweet. I could’ve still been talking with him right now. Fuck me.

/Fast forward: One week\

He kept popping up into my head all week. When I’d watch a movie, there he was. When I’d be out getting some stuff from the store, there he was. When I’d be laying in bed at night trying to sleep, there he was. The sound of his voice, the sight of his smile, the feel of his hand. Fuck.

I need to find him.

I decide to go to the same bar I went to last week and the week before where I’d seen him, having the highest expectations.

I’m walking way faster than normal, passing everyone on the sidewalk as I make my way to the bar. Please, please, please, let him be there.

Okay, we’re in. Many people, many faces. I slowly walk through the crowd, frantically looking around for him. Fuck. Can’t see him. I sit down with a sigh, ordering some vodka. The liquid disappears quickly as I keep anxiously looking around for him, and soon there’s a new, full glass next to my empty one. I can feel myself getting drunker as I keep on drinking drink after drink. I’d never been a big drinker, but for some reason I couldn’t stop tonight. My sight is getting blurry and I’m starting to get dizzy as someone approaches me. My eyes light up as I recognise him, a big smile appearing on my face. I’m so relieved to see him and too drunk to care as I hug him. “Duff!” I exclaim. He chuckles and returns the hug, his strong arms wrapping around my waist. “Y/n!” He says in the same tone as me, although he’s doing it a little to mock me.

I pull back and sit on the chair I was previously sitting on, my hand coming to rest on his knee. “I was looking for you.” I tell him, my voice slurred. “Oh, yeah?” He chuckles, finding my drunken state amusing. “Mhm.” I nod, smiling goofily. I knew I was making a fool out of myself, but I didn’t realise that then in my drunkenness.

“How much did you drink, love?” His smile was making me melt. “Uh, I dunno. They took my empty glasses away.”

We talked for a bit, although it wasn’t all that since I was wasted.

“Maybe we should go home.” He suggests after some time.

“Awe, really? I don’t wanna leave you just yet, babe.” I pout slightly before breaking out into a smile. I playfully tug at his bottom lip with my thumb, finding it funny for some reason. I’d started calling him babe, not even noticing that I was doing it.

“Come. You can stay with me.” Holy shit. Is this happening?

He stood up, before offering his hand to pull me up. This is happening. I grin up at him and stumble slightly as I stand up, grabbing his arm to steady myself. He chuckles at me, sneaking his arm around my waist to keep me from falling. “I like how you think.” I murmur. I can’t keep my eyes off him as we make our way out the bar, resulting in me stumbling even more.

I lean heavily on him as we walk down the street to the parking lot, although he doesn’t seem to mind. He can easily hold me up, and I’m pretty sure that’s because he works out. Sexy.

There’s a bit of playful banter going on as we get to his car, and I smirk up at him as he helps me into the passenger’s seat. He grabs my seatbelt and leans over me to put it on, his arms flexing right in front of my face. He closes the door and hurries to the other side of the car, getting in and putting on his own seatbelt. Once he looks to the side, he sees that I’m already passed out cold. He chuckles and starts the car, pulling out of the parking lot while glancing over at me now and then.

After a few moments, I fall sideways in my sleep as he makes a turn, my head falling onto his shoulder. My hand instinctively reaches out to hold onto his arm, and I snuggle a little closer to him. He chuckles softly and places a kiss to the top of my head, before looking back at the road.

WASSUP SLUUUUTTSSSS

YES THERE WILL BE A PART TWO TO THIS DONT WORRY POOKIES

GUYS HERE IT IS

also dont mind how unrealistic the drunk thing is this is coming from a 13 year old guy called ben fucking bitterbal who has never drunk alcohol or been drunk so idk if u have tips on how to write it better just tell mr also

heres some more pics i didnt feel like dragging up to the top of this thing hihi

#duff mckagan #izzy stradlin #slash #steven adler #axl rose #guns n roses #duff mckagan fanfic #duff mckagan x reader #duff gnr #duff mckagan fanfiction #duff mckagan fic #duff mckagan story #duff mckagan oneshot #duff mckagan book

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lulutaylorsimaginarium · 5 months

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The Chain

Summary: When the guys get stuck in a situation and hunted down by a drug lord. Frankie makes a call he really doesn’t want to make to the only person that can help them

Words: 1,256

Warnings: “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the right age to handle mature themes. We handle our own triggers with kindness and grace

AN: Mind any grammar mistakes even though the story has been checked. The author is dyslexic and it is the wonders of her brain.

AN 2: Guys, this one took even me by surprise. Never saw us here, but here we are. Let me know what you think xxL

THE CHAIN MASTERLIST

Chapter Thirteen

They walked into the house forty minutes later thinking no one was the wiser. How very wrong they were. Once Santiago and Gabby walked into the house. Will and Benny stood up from their seats giving them applause.

“Finally!”

“Thank god!”

“Jesus” Santiago said under his breath chuckling.

“What are you guys talking about?” she teased. The jig was up there was no point to lying about it

“Did you have to check on the money twice?”

“Yes” Santiago finally answered, “Trust me, the second time was more fun.”

He lingered behind her as he walked past her and farther into the house. She noticed Frankie sitting on the sofa by himself. She walked up and sat next to him, facing him, legs folded in front of her.

“What’s going on?”

“You tell me” he sighed “Did you forgot to tell him about Mangus?”

“Mangus doesn’t really seem relevant now, does he?”

Truthfully, Gabby hadn’t thought about Mangus since she landed in South America. With all her talk about new jobs and moving. Her boyfriend didn’t really seem important now.

“Then who is relevant to you, Gabriella?”

He had only ever called you by her full name twice in her life .The first time that they had met. When he found her in a state and only knew the information that they had told him and the second was forty-five minutes ago

“What you think Santi and I are going to have a happily ever after? She chuckled.

“Not with Santiago, no”

His voice was cold. Colder than she had ever heard it. She sat back and looked at him confused. He couldn’t take it anymore. The bewilderment on her face, the way she pouted at him. Frankie couldn’t do it.

He stood up walked across the room and towards the stairs

“Baby” she called out

There was that feeling that shot up Santiago’s spine again. She said it again calling out to Frankie, with no response.

The vibe of the room had changed since she sat down with him, the playfulness was gone. It was now cold, awkward and slightly dark.

She got up and stood at the table with the brothers.

“Don’t worry” Will told her quietly “He gets like this sometimes.”

She nodded her head and smiled the best she could. He never got like that with her

“I’m going to go up and have a shower before all you guys steal my hot water.”

All three of them watch her go in silence

Well, almost in silence

“You don’t think he’s been in love with her this whole time, do you?” Ben asked, more to himself then anyone.

Will frowned at his younger brother and shook his head. The answer was so clear to everyone else in the room.

Santiago walked into her bedroom twenty minutes later, she was walking around the room in the tightest jeans he could imagine and a black bra , the ends of her hair dripping on to her skin and he had to remind himself of the reason he had actually walked in there.

Gabby looked up at him and gave him a small smile

“Hey”

“Hey” he said sitting down on the end of the bed

“What’s wrong?”

“Who says any things wrong?”

“Your face”

He didn’t say anything at first. He knew he was being stupid but before good sense could take control, Santiago’s mouth took over

“Why do you call Frankie that?”

“Call Frankie what?”

“You call him, Baby”

She looked up in the mirror to look back at him

“I don’t know just always have. I don’t even think about it”

“Could you maybe, stop”

She frowned before pulling out a black tee and pulling it on over her head, maybe a little too forcefully.

“Why?” the question come out sharper then she intended.

“I don’t like it”

“Suddenly I’m back in junior high” she said under her breath.

“Gabs”

“So, because I’m fucking you . I have to stop calling my friend a nickname that he has always had”

“First of all, that’s not what we are doing”

“It’s what I’m doing” she shot back

“Wow. There is it”

“Oh come on. Don’t turn into a girl on me now”

He stood up off the bed because he felt like he needed the higher ground right now.

“Wow, you can really turn into a bitch quickly, can’t you?”

“Only when called for, Baby”

He took a slow, controlled breath because he knew if he didn’t this was going to turn into a disaster

“Stop”

“I’m not doing anything”

“Don’t take it out on me because Frankie is pissed at you”

She frowned and grabbed her handbag and keys off the dresser

“I gotta get some air”

“Gabs, don’t go”

“It’s okay. I’ll be back”

He watched her go and wanted to take everything back. He used to not care when she was angry or ticked off. He actually used to like it.

Now it made him uneasy.

She walked downstairs and past Will and Benny

“I’m going out. Do you guys need something?”

They looked at her confused and shook their heads before she walked out the front door and slammed it. Before hearing they heard the Porsche overly rev up and speeding off.

It was a good thing that the guys didn’t want her to bring something back for them because it was ten thirty at night and she still wasn’t back. Countless messages to her phone and no answer. Will looked at Santiago over the table

“So you fucked up too, huh?”

“Little bit”

“What if someone grabbed her?” Benny questioned, saying the thing everyone was thinking

“Don’t be stupid, Benny” Frankie shot “No one knows we’re here”

“Don’t they?”

“I’m calling her. This is bullshit” Will said getting up and walking out to the porch.

“What did you do?” Frankie shot at Santiago

“Me?”

Santiago got up from the table and stalked over to the living room where Frankie was.

“We fought because you did. The reason she’s not here right now is because of you pulling that crap. You never wanted her until someone else did or maybe it was just because I wanted her”

“You have no idea what you are talking about, Pope”

“Maybe the problem is how you see her. She’s not that broken girl you rescued anymore. She’s so fucking strong. Frankie, she doesn’t need you protecting her. She’s more than capable then you give her credit for” he stopped for a beat “Trust me”

He knew it was coming.

That’s why Santiago said it

He wanted to get under Frankie’s skin

He still didn’t see the punch coming

It happened just as soon as Will walked back in the front door to see it happen.

“She’s okay but she’s not coming back tonight”

“I can’t imagine why” Benny told them all getting up from the table.

“She’s grieving, Pope”

“Fish, this has been coming way before that jerk in the jungle and you know it” Benny said handing Santiago an ice pack.

“Wrong choice of words, Dude ” Will laughed

Frankie made his way back up stairs

“You better start practicing your groveling skills, Frankie. You’re going to need them” Benny called out.

“You too” Will told Santiago

“I’m aware”

“Did you have to stir him up?”

“Yeah, felt good”

He didn’t know where she was and they were still on the run. As much as he wanted to go out there and find her but Santiago knew when to stop.

#frankie morales #romanticism #santiago garcia #triple frontier #will miller #benny miller #netflix #santiago garcia x oc #charlie hunnam #garrett hedlund #pedro pascal #oscar isaac

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lesbianvampiresposts · 1 year

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Take me back to the night we met

E.P x Fem!reader

notes: I came up with this in the middle of tidying and acted on it whilst also tidying. i’m a really shitty writer so yeah!! hope u enjoy greatly! Uh timeline wise i’m picking this to be scratch tormenting stuff 😈

warnings: angst wowie, death (r), the use of Y/N (give me ideas on how to replace those two dreaded letters please i hate Y/N sometimes) MY WRITING IN GENERAL NEEDS A WARNING JESUS and also my mildly poor grammar 😭 AND A MESSY ASS LOVE CONFESSION HELP

Cases could be hard, extremely hard. But never this hard. Never so life crushingly hard.

9.32PM, Baltimore Woodland, 2/8 Agents accounted for.

As a bullet ripped through the air, things got real. A loud thud could be heard, followed by another deafening gunshot. As Emily turnt all she could assume was the worst, what if you had been shot?

She soon found out she was right to think that. She rushed to your side, hands shaking as she fumbled with your vest. “Y/N. Hey, look at me. It’s probably just a bruise ok?”. As she freed you from your vest, blood began to spurt out of your chest wound. “Em, we both know you’re convincing yourself more than me” You weakly said, laughing a little

“No, you’ll be fine..ok? just..trust me.” Emilys hands were now on you, trying to stop you bleeding out. “Em, it’s ok.” You smiled, weakly but mildly convincingly. “If anything happens, i want to tell you something. So look at me because i don’t think i have enough time.”. Emily averted her gaze to your face, tears forming in her eyes. You placed a hand on her face, gently caressing her cheek with your thumb.

“I love you Emily Prentiss. I have always loved you and i will always love you. in this life and the next. I have loved you since the night we met and i’m not stopping dead or alive”. Tears began to fall from Emily eyes, a weak smile on her face. “So tell me you love me back, and i can die happy”

“I love you too.” Were the last words you heard, falling limp in Emilys arms, your hand falling from her face.

10.47PM, Baltimore PD. 7/8 agents accounted for. Two Casualties: Preston Harding (ACCOMPLICE.) & SSA Y/N L/N.

The ride back was quiet. There were no funny quips, no snarky remarks, no stories of an epic takedown. Just silence, an uncomfortable, unwanted silence.

The team had no clue what to think, no clue how to catch the man behind it all, yet all emily could think about was how she wanted to go back to the night they met.

A/N: HOPEFULLY THIS DIDNT SUCK!! I also took way longer to post it than i wanted oopsie..if this goes well with my emily girlies i’ll make some things for my tara and jj girlies too 🤭 and sorry for my assy math oopsie

#Spotify #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #wow i put her through it oopsie

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queer-as-used-by-tolkien · 2 months

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I have full executive authority to modify my text posts for another audience - to express the exact same sentiment but in words that the new audience will understand. To translate, if you will, from "broad and unknown Tumblr audience" who speak the Tumblr lingo and dialect and who could be literally anybody, to "close family with a humongous bunch of shared experience and similar language to talk about them," who share my worldview and understand what I'm saying without getting offended by a caveat I forgot to include or a specification or detail that I thought was unnecessary. (E.g. on Tumblr I might say "my friend X", but to family I'd just say "X")

Translation from one to the other, and vice versa, is necessary for both clarity and brevity. Different audiences require different approaches.

Tumblr audience might have sentences providing caveats or clarity or introduction to a concept that the family audience already knows or doesn't need. For brevity, I would cut those out, but I might also add sentences to help with transition or to aid in pacing of the ideas, concepts, or story. (This also goes for fic; is the fic for fans only or is it friendly to fandom-blind readers? Same story, told in slightly different words sometimes.)

But they are still my words and all those words remain as true as they were in the original form (assuming I didn't decide to lie to one group). In fact, if somebody had access to both versions (and understood both), they could see more of my mind, heart, and will than otherwise; for example, my willingness to even do such a thing as translating or providing two different versions. A family member who forgot my relation to X might be reassured by the label "friend" when describing her. (It might also mean a lot to the friend, if she read both accounts.) It always helps to see further caveats, examples, side notes, details, or even just different phrasing that I thought would help one group's perspective but wouldn't be too useful for the other unless they were doing a deeper study of my words, for whatever reason.

Now if I DID decide to lie, of course, you can't believe either version (or any new one I came up with), because now I'm a liar and you can't trust anything at all. But assuming I'm not a liar (and nobody has messed with my words, or it's not an outright faked screenshot or deep fake or whatever) - assuming I am truthful and you trust me (and/or my messenger), you can learn a lot from the differences of how I convey the same idea.

Between the two versions I might also do things like update typos or accidental occurrences of misgendering, clarify grammar, institute proper capitalization, and so on.

It makes me think of a post I saw once about the differences between Hunger Games books and movies; how the books tell a story of how awful war is to kids, and how awful the capitol is to make them have a love triangle to survive, and how awful it is for them to sit back and watch it as entertainment. And how the movies have us sit back and be entertained while children have a love triangle and fight each other. It seems like a classic case of "movies butchered the books," but the author was actually involved in and had quite some say in the production of the movie. Looking at them, they both together tell a more powerful story than otherwise. I'll see if I can find that post because it was a JOURNEY.

Anyway. The author has ultimate authority to translate their work to different audiences, with different emphases and details, whether the work is a Tumblr text post or an essay or verbally telling a friend what happened to me today.

Same goes for the Lord Jesus Christ, the word of God (John 1). (For one thing, translating God Himself into human form while preserving his divinity? Major translation skills there.)

The four gospels are an example of this; Matthew, for example, is addressed primarily to the Jews and includes many extra details, adding things like "BTW this was in fulfillment of XYZ prophecy" and including the genealogy through David and all like that. Luke is written by a Gentile to Gentiles, and tells similar stories but often with different details.

Only one gospel mentions that when Jesus fed the five thousand, it was at evening; only one mentions that it was a little boy who had the five loaves and two fishes; when Jesus asks a disciple what they're going to do, only one gospel mentions that Jesus said it "to try him."

John is far more focused on Jesus' divine nature, including many stories not included in the others. Different details, different emphases, different audiences, although ultimately, all four are available to us who have lived after the first century AD.

The gospels also show off another aspect of the author having final authority to translate while still being pure, truthful, and accurate: quotations from the Old Testament.

The OT was written in Hebrew. Jesus reads from a Greek translation and calls it Scripture. (I.e. equally as inspired as the original.) The apostles and writers of the New Testament often do likewise.

The same can be true of other translations as well. Translations into Latin, into German, into French, into Old English, into Early Modern English... God is the master of language. He created it, after all. Jesus is the word. All Scripture is inspired and profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for instruction in righteousness...

But only the author has that authority. If I tell my sister one thing and she tells my friend something in anything other than my own words, it may still be true; but it's slightly less true than my own words. Hopefully, usually the difference is negligible, but in a contest, anything I've ever said or written on the topic is more accurate than what somebody else said.

Hence, if there's something strange about the story my sister tells, my friend would do well to take it with a grain of salt (or more than one, if she knows I have a bad relationship with my sister.) If not, this can pass from one to another like a game of telephone until it devolves into gossip that's wholly untrue, outright malicious, etc.

I and only I retain the right to point to two different versions of my words and say both are equally true. My sister can't say "her words and mine are equal" unless she was there, and even then, any differences would be down to her own different perspective (and level of honesty), not mine.

You never know when somebody might embellish a Bible translation. I hear Satan has quite the interest in perverting God's words (just see Genesis 3). Compare your translation carefully with both itself and others.

On that note, let me share some comparisons to get you started.

One of them has to be wrong. What do you think?

#Bible #Kjv #Kjv-only #Christianity

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icarus-fli3s-high · 1 year

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Gone (Maxwell Klinger x reader) [commission]

summary: you were once a great head surgeon, but when your camp is smoked out by chlorine gas your run for your life. The road leads you to yet another M*A*S*H and a man you will never forget.

warnings!!!: this is not fit for anyone under the age of 16 it has character death, depictions of nightmares and violence ad well as language, also kinda shit grammar ok very shit grammar.

word count: 7011

and now for your reading pleasure. Gone.

Heat beat down on me as I walked the long dirt road that would hopefully lead me somewhere. The summers in Korea were unforgiving, especially this year. I kept walking forward, never once lifting my head. What I wore blended me in better than any camouflage. I could walk for miles in a day, my record being around ten on foot. Sometimes I would take a horse or something else to get around, but today was not a day where I had that luxury. The more I try to put it all together the more confusing it all is to me, I don’t know how long I’ve been walking, just that I need to walk, keep pushing till you find a place of refuge. I had been stationed as the head surgeon of M*A*S*H 3560, but that was gone now, flattened by the Koreans. I remember trying to tell my unit to leave because they had used a chemical weapon, but no one believed me, they all kept going about their days until we got grenades and bullets thrown at us. I remember the fight, shooting men whom I didn't know down at point blank. I took all of their dog tags, any water, food, med supplies, anything that would help me. Hell I’ve been walking this whole time with at least five pounds of ammo wrapped around me like a second skin.

After another moon I had made it to a road that looked well used. I followed it and what met me was a more than welcome sight. Another M*A*S*H sat before my eyes. Doctors and nurses bustling about with their lives, and I fell to my knees. “taing do na diathan”, I muttered again and again, “taing do na diathan”. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up into the face of a man with thick black hair and olive skin.

“Who are you?” he asked, helping me up.

“A forgotten soul”, was the only response my mind could come up with, “Alienated in this war”.

“Well where’s your unit?” he tried again.

“Dead”, I said following him to a building, “My M*A*S*H was flattened”.

“God”, he said, clearly lost for words. An old man came out of the building and stopped dead upon seeing me.

“Klinger, who in the Sam Hill is this?” he asked, clearly american.

“I don’t know Connel she won’t tell me her name”, the man Klinger responded, “All she said was a lost soul”, with that statement a nurse and three doctors came towards us, bickering about gods know what. They stopped talking as they came closer, as they saw me.

“Oh lord, who is that?” I heard one tall man with salt and pepper hair ask.

“Y/N Ó Dálaigh”, I coughed grabbing onto Klinger’s shoulder as I doubled over.

“Jesus are you alright?” the blonde man asked, grabbing my other arm.

“I’ll be fine”, I smiled, slowly sitting down on a pile of crates with the two of them helping me, “just what happens when you have to run from mustard gas.” the group went silent as they looked down at me.

“Say Y/N what M*A*S*H are you from?” the CO asked me.

“M*A*S*H 3560”, I said, beginning to take my multitude of bullets and bags off. My hair stuck out more wild than it had ever been. “Can I make a call?” I asked Klinger, he nodded as the doctors began to speak amongst themselves. I walked into his office space, it was the first building I’d been in for a while.

“Where do you need to call?” he asked, pulling the phone from its case.

“Soul”, I responded. He handed me the black receiver and waited until I picked up, “hello John?”

“Y/N?” came from the other end, “How are you calling from the 4077? I thought you were stationed somewhere else?”

“I was, but John it’s all gone. The Koreans flattened the place. The used mustard gas and then chlorine”, silence met me as I heard him take a long sigh, “I’m what’s left of the entire 3560”.

“So now you’re at 4077. How did you get there, it's at least 50 miles?” I took a pause, i’d really travelled that far.

“I walked”, I whispered, “I’ve been walking the better part of three months I suppose”.

“Three months!” he sputtered at me, “You’ve been walking alone for THREE MONTHS?”

“Yeah and what of it?” I was too tired to fight with him, “I walked because that’s all I could do, there's no phones in the korean bush, it was me and the wild for three months this is the first time i’ve talked to people in those months”. I sighed, rubbing my forehead, “Do you want me to stay here or keep going?”

“Stay there”, he said, “Moving your station to the 4077 until you either get released or this damned thing ends”. I nodded.

“Alright”, I said, “Goodbye John, Stay alive”. WIth that I put the phone into the box and looked at the man sitting on the cot in the corner.

“Did they really use Chlorine?” he asked and I could only nod. We didn’t go back outside, instead the others came in. The woman, I would come to learn id Margret, was staring at me before she handed me a box.

“What’s this?” I asked opening it to see the necessities. Soap, army issue shirts, pants, a comb, things like that.

“We heard you would be staying for a while, there's an extra bed in my tent if you want”, Margret said looking at me.

“Thank you major”, I said, “but I’ll take one last night under the stars if that’s alright, besides the tents are hot and sticky”. The blonde nodded and smiled at me.

After rigging up what would most likely be my last hammock I decided to have a look around the camp. Hawkeye and BJ had taken my things to their tent for the night.

“Less for you to worry about”, BJ explained.

“Of course”, Hawkeye said, clapping me on the shoulder, “and the showers are just over there”. He turned my shoulders and I took my first shower in 3 months. The water felt better than anything I could’ve asked for, like angels kissing my skin and I cleaned the months of dirt away. I felt my hair slowly unknot and go back to its usual colour. I finally felt something that had left me once I realised I was alone- safety. For the first time in months I was safe and no one could get me.

After 20 or so minutes I finally emerged from the shower tent, clean and refreshed. It was dark out and the air had cooled off slightly making the night five times more liveable than in daylight. I laid down in my hanging bed and shut my eyes, ready for a good night’s sleep.

I don't know what exactly woke me up. It could’ve been the click I heard or very distant shelling, but I woke up all the same. I felt like a child as I walked into the clerk’s office, ashamed of my cowardice. I’ve been through far worse and yet here I was silently crying at a desk and praying the owner didn’t wake up. I sat there with my head down for ten minutes, maybe twenty, it was hard to tell. But it was not long after I had seeked refuge that I felt a large hand on my back. I quickly wiped my eyes and looked up to see the clerk looking down at me with what, regret? Pity? Sadness? Sadness that he felt the same way, the same trapped perhaps? I will never know, however I do know that what he did next was the kindest thing anyone has ever done or will ever do for me.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, kneeling in front of me. I shook my head, “are you sure?” Then the strangest thing happened, I began to talk to him.

“The shelling”, I began, interrupted by a hiccup, “I know they are far, but it’s like I can hear the boys’ bones breaking from here, that I won’t be able to fix them”. Max reached io and caught a stray tear with his thumb.

“What do you want to do now?” he inquired, eating me with those chocolate eyes.

“Can I stay here?” I asked and he nodded.

“You can have the cot”, the man hummed and I shook my head, “no? Well why not?”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed Max, that’s just cruel”. And looked at me again, those kind eyes widening just a touch.

“Then we share”, he smiled, seemingly pleased with his conclusion of the statement. His cot wasn’t as small as it looked. It might’ve been that I was malnourished enough, but we both fit like puzzle pieces. I laid stiff while he got comfortable, I felt like I was invading like he would be angry with me if I took up too much space. I felt an arm come over my side, “you Can take up space”. And that was all it took for me to release the breath I didn’t know I was holding and relax. I felt like a pool of water finally allowed to conform to my container.

“Hey Max”, I said quietly, secretly hoping he was awake.

“Hey yeah?” he said back.

“Thanks”, I felt his hand squeeze just a little tighter and his face pressed into my neck. It wasn’t an alien feeling to me, I’d had boyfriends and girlfriends before, but this felt… well right.

The next morning came with eggs and a side of wounded. I got up from the table and rushed to OR.

“Well miss Ó Dálaigh”, Potter said, “looks like we get to see your talent firsthand”. I smiled slightly at him and got scrubbed up and ready to go. I got in OR and my first patient had practically a whole car in his belly. I flinched and began work. His dog tags gave me his blood type and I worked from there. Pulling shrapnel from the boy being careful not to miss anything. I was more careful than I’d ever been before. This man was walking on this ice. But he would pull through.

After hours and hours of work it all came to a stop at eleven PM. I collapsed into the bench in OR feeling my body deflate.

“Hey”, I heard someone next to me.

“Hey Hawkeye”, I said. I let a heavy sigh escape and got up to go back to the swamp to grab my stuff.

“I’ll join you”, hawk said following me. I smiled slightly and linked my arm with his, both of us had the front of our shirts covered in blood.

“Gods this is going to be the best nap I’ve ever had”, I muttered, grabbing my things.

“Just wait”, Hawk said, “more wounded will come before you know it”.

“I know it Hawkeye I know”, I answered, slinging my last bag over my shoulder. I made my way to margret’s tent and knocked on the door before entering. She wasn’t in the tent so I guessed she was in the officer’s club. There went my plans for the night. I decided that a walk would do me better than a drink so I exited the tent and began to pace around the compound, eventually finding myself in storage. It was cooler in this building than any other, the ground was cold when I bent down to touch it. I smiled and made my way to the very back where there sat a couple extra cots, blankets and pillows. I pulled a small book from my pocket and began to write like i had every day for the past years,

I didn’t ask for this, but here I am, stuck in an unfamiliar mash. I just want to go home. Out of everything I wonder what got me here. Why do I deserve this? To watch all of my friends die and my patients I worked so hard to save leave this world choking on their own blood. I never wanted to be here. I want to go home and forget this war.

I closed the book falling into a pile of blankets finally resigning to my body, I laid there for hours, but never slept. I watched the ceiling, my eyes slowly closing, behind them blasts of colour and shapes. I knew I was awake. It felt like my body was turning into the earth, like I was returning home, that after everything the earth would swallow me whole and hug me, hug me and tell me that it’s ok. That there was no war, that when I open my eyes I will be in my tent with Trist and John, that we will go back to making jokes about shrapnel and bullets. But there was a sinking feeling clawing at me like a cat at a door in the rain, all the memories i had were now stained red. I had been the first to evacuate. I had given the red flag and no one listened to me. The sounds of their screaming filled my ears before it died and I opened my eyes, at least I think I opened them. But around me were all of them.

“You should’ve told us sooner”, trist said as his face began to slide off his skull.

“Y/N”, John cooed, “you should’ve done better”.

“We're all dead now because of you”, a patient sobbed.

“I’m sorry”, I cried, “I’m sorry”.

“Y/N you failed, you’re a failure Y/N”, Henry, my CO jeered.

“No”, I breathed as they all began to melt into a mass of a monster, flesh and blood began to form itself into a graveyard. An invisible force pushing me towards the mausoleum at the very end of the grass. “No no no stop im sorry im sorry STOP PLEASE”, i was begging for my life. There was someone shaking me and a very muffled voice calling me.

“Y/N, Y/N, Doctor?” it was quiet and then it became louder, “Y/N Y/N”, i felt my brain tear away and sat up and opened my eyes to a very blurry bright room, the lights were too loud. I covered my ears as I closed my eyes, trying to make the world quiet again. I felt someone begin to wrap around me, pulling me into a comforting warmth. Their hands pressed my head into their shoulder. I felt my heart begin to calm itself. The feeling of fabric against my skin grounded me. I opened my eyes and the room was still bright, but less so. The waves and crashes of people screaming and bombs going off had ceased. It had all been a dream, my brain making up stories to tell itself. I let a shaky sigh escape my body and looked ahead. The familiar face of Klinger looked down at me. He looked deep in thought as I slowly reached a hand up and pushed his hair to the side. He looked down at me and moved his hands to push me into him as he stood, outside the door I saw an unfamiliar face peering in at me. He had thick glasses and sandy blonde hair. Max picked me up and began walking to the door. The man on the other side watched in silent worry as we walked by. He made it back to his office, the blonde in tow, and set me on the cot. No one had seen us in the dead hours of the morning. The man introduced himself as Father Mulcahy. He looked at me with kind eyes. I’d never met a priest before, so this felt strange to me.

“Father?” I said, “Father, what do you want from me?” and he looked at his eyes boring into the very nature of my soul.

“Are you christian Y/N?” he asked, “Or do you believe in god?”

“I am not”, i responded taking a short breath, “I am a nordic pagan”. He smiled slightly.

“Oh well, do you remember what happened tonight?” he asked as Klinger busied himself with papers. I did remember the nightmare, all of them screaming.

“I fell into a pile of blankets, apparently fell asleep and woke up feeling like I was dying”, I said and at this point someone else came into the room. Charles sat on an empty box.

“I'll sit in for Sidney till he gets here”, he muttered. They had called an army psychologist, probably a good idea. I nodded at him.

“What were you feeling?” the priest asked again, “When you woke up”.

“Well father, do you know what overdosing feels like?” I asked, “No, of course you don’t stupid question. No it felt like overdosing, but my body wasn’t on fire this time. The lights were still too loud and I felt my skin begin to crawl, but it wasn’t the same. It was like dying but in a way that makes you feel like you want to throw up and hide”. The priest began to look more and more concerned. “And yet there was an odd peace to it, if Max hadn’t come I don’t know what would’ve happened to me. I guess I could’ve died? Shut down indefinitely? I don’t really know myself”. There was a small silence and then Charles asked something I will never forget about so long as I live.

“So you’ve died before?” he asked and I smiled.

“Dying is the same as living to me”, I laughed.

“No, actual dying”, he said and I took a deep breath ready to explain everything he would need to know about my experience with life and death.

The following weeks I was monitored by Korea’s favourite shrink, he followed me around all day until I ended up in the officer’s club. I sat at the corner table staring into the bottom of my drink wondering if I was going to drink it.

“You know the more I follow you the more interesting you become”, Sid said and I nodded.

“That’s what Hal said last time”, I laughed, “Called me a maniac for buying a cow too but here we are”. Sid let a small chuckle out. The sight of Hawkeye with one of the most atrocious hats on made my drink almost come out of my nose.

“Hawk, where did you get that monstrosity?” I asked giggles racking my body as Sid grabbed my stool to keep me from tipping over.

“BJ brought it back from Seoul for me”, he grinned as BJ clapped him on the back, I nodded stil trying to catch my breath.

“Well”, Sid said standing, “My jeep leaves tonight I think you are well on your way”. I smiled getting up to walk with him to the jeep.

“Your carriage sir”, Max said, opening the door.

“Max, are you driving him back?” I asked

“Nope I’m leaving it to this man he brought him here”, he grinned and followed me back to the club, stopping at the bar to get himself something. He came back to my table and nearly tripped over a stretched out Charles. I smiled as he took a seat next to me.

“Don’t mind charles, he had a long shift”, I smiled. Max sat down and like I had done, stared down into his drink. “Penny for your thoughts?” I asked as he looked up at me.

“Oh just thinking about when all of this is over”, he said smiling slightly, “Can’t wait to go home after all of this”.

“Yeah me too”, I smiled, “I just want to be back with the family again”, he raised an eyebrow, “I just miss my house and everyone”. He nodded.

“Are you married?” he asked and I was slightly taken aback.

“No”, I said, “haven’t found my one and only yet”. I poked him in the side, “What about you mr.company clerk what about your famed love life”. He chuckled slightly, rolling his eyes.

“I wouldn’t call it famed, unlucky maybe”, he gravelled. I nodded letting him go on, “Things fell through with the last girl and I've been in a rut”. I watched him as he kept talking, changing the subject to what he missed about home. I smiled as I heard how passionate about his hometown. It feels like forever since I thought about my life before the war, about the house with the perfect room for a piano, about the roommates that lived with me there in oregon. I missed the huge forest that surrounded the house. I felt my face begin to fall as he came to a stop.

“Hey what’s wrong?” he asked, clearly worried. I couldn’t have him worrying about me all the time.

“Nothing it’s not important”, I smiled, pushing the feeling of dread away from my body like the vile feeling it was.

“What was your life like before… all this?” he pushed and i swallowed the last of my whiskey.

“Quiet”, i whispered, “Well as quiet as it can be with two roommates”. He laughed slightly. “We have this house in the middle of the woods a little ways out from Portland”, I sighed the memories flooding in, “My one friend, Ander, he’s a carpenter he practically built the place. I mean he even built an entire room for my piano”. Klinger smiled looking over to Father Mulcahy who was sitting at the piano.

“How long have you been playing?” he asked.

“All my life”, I responded and followed his gaze. The piano in the bar was nothing compared to mine, “Given the chance I would show you what I've got back at home”. And he smiled. Klinger grabbed my hand and dragged me to the other side of the bar tapping the priest on the back. He smiled as Max told him about the piano thing.

“Well then show us”, the blonde said, getting up and relinquishing his seat to me. I sat down gingerly not knowing how well it would go. I felt eyes on me like I was trapped in a small box.

“Come on”, Max said, putting his hand briefly on my shoulder. I inhaled a large breath and began to let my fingers dance across the keys. The melody gradually took shape as I began to add bass and tenor tones, the room around me fell silent as I let the chords dissipate and began the piece that had been itching at me. Clair de Lune. It filled the room in its soft glory, making some sway and others cry. It was times like these I had Ander. Aside from being a skilled carpenter he was also a brilliant violinist, a practical Paganini. The movement led me into starry night and then to finish it all, interstellar. The sound filled the room with the booming thunder of F G and A then the quiet lull of the arpeggios. As I finished I sat back looking expectantly at the room around me. It was quiet, then there was applause, applause like I’d never heard before in my entire life. I was loud and it was joyous. I felt numerous hands come and clap me on the back as I sat there smiling from ear to ear.

“Well Padre, hard to beat that”, I heard Potter say from across the room.

“Indeed Colonel”, I heard the father say in return. I got up and went to the bar asking Igor for another drink.

“On the house”, he smiled and I went to hide in the back in my corner. I sat there for maybe an hour before Charles came to the back.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” he asked and I looked up, the alcohol making my mind partly cloudy.

“Well I was originally in college to get a degree in piano”, I murmured, “Otherwise I’ve been trained my whole life. All months of the year and sometimes in the dark quiet of winter the double bass”. Charles sat down as he began talking about his musical education. I nodded but wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about how the hell I became a doctor. After about an hour or two of listening to Charles and about 5 drinks Igor told me he was closing up. I got up and staggered out the door not knowing where I would end up and quite frankly ,I didn’t care. Maybe I would wake up and not even be in Korea.

I woke up still in Korea, except I was in someone’s cot and it wasn’t mine. There was no one next to me and when I looked up I saw Klinger asleep in his chair. He was mumbling slightly and then there were little droplets of sweat rolling down his face as he twitched.

“Max?” I whispered, “Max?” I said it a bit louder. He jolted awake looking around frantically. “Max it’s me”, I said but it was like he couldn’t hear me.

“Not again”, he groaned. I slowly reached out his chair was just far enough. Carefully, I got up from the cot and grabbed the arms of the chair to keep it from rolling away. He was throwing his head from side to side and I had to find some way to make him stop before he hurt himself. I reached out and gently held his head in place. His eyes snapped open at the contact and he looked at me like he was a child caught stealing. Glassy dinner plate eyes looked up at me as he let out a shaky breath. His hands slowly reached up and held mine. “I’m sorry”, he muttered, “I woke you”. I let my hands fall to grab his sleeve and make him follow me to the cot. He fell into the mattress that sat there and I made him lay down.

“You didn’t wake me”, I said, running my fingers through his hair as he laid his head down in my lap. I began to trace his features, I knew we would all be going home soon- we had been here long enough and casualties were going down, both sides were getting tired.

“What are you doing?” he asked as I ran my fingers down the bridge of his nose.

“Memorising you”, I returned and he smiled.

“Why? It’s not like I’m going anywhere”, he chuckled.

“That you know of”, I said, my hands returning to his hair. He let out a deep sigh, “Max the wounded and casualty numbers are getting lower and lower, soon they will stop and we will have to leave or they will get worse and we will be sent home in retreat”. I said, “In fact the later is the most likely”. He yawned as I was explaining.

“Once we get out of here I’m following you”, he said, “You still owe me a trip to see that house you always talk about”, his eyes were beginning to close, “And the dogs, and the piano”. He was rambling now, his words failing him. “Stay”, he murmured finally. I smiled, but this time it wasn’t joy or love or anything like that. It was a broken hearted smile.

I stayed of course, I stayed and his arm was wrapped around my side like a safety rope. I wanted to enjoy this to just revel in the idea that I was here in utter adoration of the man next to me and that he felt the same way, after all he had just told me. But after this war? He had a family to return to and he had a life in Ohio. He had told me about it, I didn't want to rip him away from the place he loved so much. I took a deep breath relying that maybe we could stay like this forever, squished into his side on an army issue cot. He seemed happy with this, his nightmare kept at bay and I was ok with it. But we would have to leave soon. I didn’t want to think about life without BJ, Hawkeye, Charles, Margret, or even Father Mulcahey and the Colonel. I swallowed and dug my face into Max’s neck trying my hardest not to let the knot in my throat win. I felt a hand come up to my hair, I had woken him up. It was my turn to say sorry to him and try to just let him sleep. But the words never left me as the clerk lifted my head to look at him.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he asked and I shook my head.

“It’s not important”, I murmured, “Go back to sleep”. He kept my face in full view of his.

“I know that look”, he said, his lip brushing the tip of my nose leaving butterfly kisses there.

“I was just thinking about when all of this ends”, i said quietly trying to hide any emotion in my voice.

“Oh honey”, he murmured and kissed my hair, “If you’re worried about all these people and falling out of contact, we’ve been through too much to not stay in contact”. I nodded as he cupped my face. In the 7 months I had been there we had gone through the dregs of war and even then the first 4 or so years had been hell for my first unit. For four years and ten months I had been in Korea, for three months I walked alone for fifty miles, for seven months I lived with the kindest people I’d ever met. I had only gone back to my old unit once. Max, the priest, Hawkeye and I had all piled in, we saw what was left. It was nothing more than the bones of the OR and some supplies scattered. I could remember the feeling of seeing it as I laid there in that tiny cot. I felt like there was no hope for me, like it was seeing the remnants of it all over again. I want to go home but I don’t want to leave these people behind. All of my other friends are dead, and my brother god knows where he is. But I will pull through as I always do.

The day I found out where my brother was was single handedly the worst day of my entire life. I watched as the chopper landed, there had been another spike in attacks and he was one of the wounded.

“I call him”, i said as I saw pierce rushing to him the same time I was, “Hawk please he’s my brother”. And he nodded, going to help another patient. I felt a pulse and felt nothing. “Come on Adam please”, I said then there was a faint thump. He was still alive there was barely any air coming from his lungs, he had a few broken ribs and a gash down the length of his leg, I wasn’t letting him die on me. I got into OR as fast as I could scrubbing and tearing on my gear.

I stood over him for hours, fixing everything I could, he had a punctured lung and a tear in the wall of his stomach. I was almost done when I checked his signs to see them deteriorating. “No”, I said, rushing to do anything I could, trying to blink fast enough to keep the tears away, “I'm not letting you die”. I checked again, his heart was getting slower and slower, the beats fading away like he was. I sewed up his chest and worked fast and faster on his leg, closing the wound faster than I had ever done before. It was closed and I went to check one more than the nurse grabbed my arm. There was no pulse. I waited but it never came. His heart stayed silent and I stopped breathing. He was gone. I watched with dead eyes as they took him away. The next boy was placed on the table in front of me. I kept him alive, and the man after him, and the next. Until boy number five when I was told that was the last of them. I sat there on the bench mask still on and scrubs still clinging to my body. I rested my head back and closed my eyes. Tearing the gloves off I raised my hands to take the mask from my face. I looked down at it, I couldn’t tell his blood from the others, I should be able to tell. He was my own flesh and blood damn it I should be able to tell it’s his. I felt two bodies fall on either side of me, one being Hawkeye and the other BJ, Hawk reached out and pulled me into a hug interrupting my thoughts. BJ let one hand rest on my shoulder as they both tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault. I just shook my head, refusing to cry, refusing to let it get to me. Eventually we all made our way to the mess tent, there seemed to be few people there so i was ok with going, BJ set a mug of coffee in front of me and I thanked him with a nod of my head. Max came in a little later and then Father. All of them were sitting with me silently. This was my silent vigil to him. Magret came in not long after we had begun to talk again. She wrapped me in a hug and just listened. The air became lighter and easier. We talked about family and things like that.

“You know I think that little bastard is how I ended up a doctor”, I giggled, “he was always falling out of trees”. Klinger raised his mug.

“That used to be me”, Hawk said, “Except I would also get stuck with fishing lures and things.

“Lord”, margret laughed, “You know I once fell down a hill when I was about ten trying to see if I could go down it”.

“Wouldn’t put it past you”, BJ said and I choked slightly. The conversation moved easily and eventually it moved us all to bed. I followed Max to the office and he picked me up, dropping me on the cot.

“I got a surprise”, he said going to a corner of his desk, “Look what just came in”. It was chocolate, dark chocolate. I felt my pupils dilate as I took the smallest bite.

“Where did you even get this?” I asked and he smiled, shaking his head.

“A magician never reveals his secrets”, he said and I was ok with that. “Now move over”. I went to my side of the cot after putting the chocolate into the top drawer of his desk. He pressed his face into my hair as he tried to get comfortable. I eventually pulled so his head lay on my chest, I felt his breathing slow and let myself go as well, into the dark place of my dreams.

I was right. All US bases, M*A*S*Hs and anyone else was shipped out. Packing was a mess, it was frantic, fast. We were all going to go south, not fly out of Seoul. I knew it would be better to fly out of Osaka or Fukuoka. We all were herded into jeeps and trucks after we had all finished tearing down camp. Hawkeye, BJ, Charles, Klinger, Margret, and myself were all crowded into the same truck. I looked at all of their excited faces and my own fell.

“Charles going to the UNited States?” Hawk was surprised he was in out transport.

“Yes I might as well”, Charles smiled, “besides I’ve seen england”. I looked at Margaret who was talking to Father Mulcahy about something in depth. I could tell because her eyebrows were knitted close together and she was biting her lip. I looked to my side to see Max half asleep half listening to the conversations flowing around us.

“Come here”, I said and let him flop onto my shoulder.

“Say Lietis, where is your neck of the woods?” Charles asked, looking at me and Max.

“Oregon”, I said, “the deep woods of Oregon”. He nodded.

“Are you excited to go back?” he asked and I pursed my lips slightly.

“I suppose, but it will be hard to get used to the routine again”, I smiled, “No curfew, just freedom up there”.

“Tell you what, you come visit Maine and I’ll come visit you”, Hawk said, handing me a slip of paper.

“Deal”, I smiled, “BJ what about you?”

“Mill Valley California '', he smiled, “Right below you”. I grinned.

“I’m proud to say I’ve never set foot in Cali”, I grinned and he reached over Hawkeye to bump my arm.

“Well you should”, he said, “It’s very beautiful”.

“Y’all are too close to San Francisco for my taste”, I stuck out my tongue and he smiled. The rest of the ride was spent dozing or talking, Max slept through most of it, sometimes he would wake up to quip with Margret or someone and then fall back asleep.

“Klinger I bet you’re excited to go to Toledo huh?” Potter asked him from across the transit.

“I’m going to Oregon”, he said in a sleepy voice, “Toledo, sure I’ll visit but I need to get out more”. I snorted slightly as he situated himself.

“I heard it does wonders for your health”, Hawk jeered, laughing slightly.

“Charles you should visit”, I said, “We have a wonderful Phil”. His eyes lit up.

“Of course”, he smiled, “We should all set meeting points over the next few years you know, meet somewhere different every year or something”. I nodded.

“I agree”, Hawk said, “But before anything we need to visit Radar”. I was confused at who Radar was, sure I had heard about him a bit before but not much.

“Old company clerk”, Max mumbled, “Stand up kid”. I nodded and he once again was asleep. I smiled and soon fell asleep myself.

I woke up to Hawk threatening to leave me in the truck if I didn't hurry. We had made it. Soon we would be on a boat, then a plane, and then finally home.

The boat ride and the plane were a lot like the car, all of us talking about what we were looking forward to once we got home. The ride overseas was around 17 hours and I felt myself nodding off around the tenth hour, I was forcing myself to stay awake, to keep talking to them.

“You know you can sleep right?” BJ asked and I smiled.

“Yeah but you guys”, I gave him a sleepy smile.

“Klinger come get your girl”, BJ called over and I tried to protest only to feel Max drag me into his chair.

“Hush go to sleep”, he said when mumbles were leaving my mouth, most of them revolving around not being tired. But within minutes my world became black.

Once we landed in New York we all parted ways. BJ, Klinger and I all got on the same plane going west, Pierce Sn was waiting for his son and where the others went I would never know. Over the next few months Max settled in with Ander, Kris and myself. He was in utter awe of the mountains and the forest. Eventually the roommates moved out leaving me the house and what they left behind. It became the perfect place really. The stained glass windows and all of the secret rooms along with the library, we had done well for ourselves.

Just as Charles had accepted we had all been to see each other's houses over the years. I finally met BJ’s little girl and wife. We were the last to host. Our house was filled with laughter and banter, but one person was missing. In the corner stood a painting of Colonel Potter. I paused for a minute to look at it, his coat was draped over the wood frame and a bride hung off of the right top corner. I felt a lump form in my throat as a hand snaked its way around my waist.

“I miss him too”, it was Max. I nodded and pressed my face into his soft cotton shirt. Haw came and stood with us and then BJ followed by Charles and Margaret. Next was Father Mulcahy and Sid. We had gotten his address and asked him to come to the farewell party of a friend. The party had come to a halt all of us staring intently at the paint like if we looked hard enough he would back, but he never would. Father was saying some prayers and I said some of my own. To the Gods and to his God. I was happier than I had ever been at this moment, but it felt so incomplete. Even with the man to end all men by my side and friends I was ready to give my life for. We all stood in silent veneration as the front door opened and I felt everything become whole again. You see, it was the first time I met Radar. And he had more personal effects and stories about and from our fierce leader. I stood next to my husband and listened for hours. I was home and I was happy.

Not me ugly sobbing as I’m finishing this. It was a journey of my endangered soul. Thank you all who read it truly means the world to me to see my work out there. Feel free to leave a comment or repost. Thank you and stay safe out there chitin.

Always Yours

Icculus

#mash 4077 #m*a*s*h #max klinger #x reader #max Klinger x you #hawkeye

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blossomcats · 10 months

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it really baffles me that some people can't write. that might be amazingly self-unaware but whatever. like i read the blessing way by tony hillerman (on my dad's recommendation) and i know the book was published in like 1970 and is part of a series, but jesus christ. the characters weren't likable, there were so many little editing mistakes (both grammar and just flow of writing), and this is a nitpick, but the characters names were so stupid. the main villain of the book's name is (and this isn't a spoiler because a. the villain's name is revealed after the mcs realize who he is and b. none of yall are gonna read it anyway) fucking george. WHO names their main villain george?? GEORGE.

and sorry to who ever reads this, but this extends into fanfic as well. some of yall simply do not read books. PLEASE do. it helps you so much.

i hope the writer of the fic this line is from never sees this (which they won't because nobody reads my posts) but this line exemplifies what i'm talking about (i think): 'One man understanding time, is equivalent to a pebble in the ocean understanding what it means to breathe.'

first off, the comma is completely unnecessary. it interrupts the sentence and i think might even be grammatically incorrect. not sure if it is but doesn't it just look wrong? i understand that the fic the line was from was a school assignment, but oh my lord.

second, it's the opening line. ok fake-deep fuckernaut. it's a line that looks like it came straight out of r/im14andthisisdeep. who cares bro? i mean, it might be sorta ok if the line was built up to or something, but it opens the fic.

sorry if that wasn't very coherent, would love to hear yall's thoughts.

#rant #lotf #on writing #not very coherent

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music-catalogue · 1 year

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February Listening Round-up

This year is flying by too fast, though I suppose we did just go through the shortest month of the year. Februrary was an extremely busy month but it was also like a last hurrah for me before I started back at uni in March. Here's what soundtracked this final month of freedom, according to Last.Fm.

February Monthly Listening Round-up

If Jesus Was A Rockstar - Kim Petras

Brrr - Kim Petras

Flowers - Miley Cyrus

TRUSTFALL - P!nk

Stars Are Blind - Paris Hilton

I Want Your Sex - George Michael

Masterpiece - Sault

American Teenager - Ethel Cain

Spiders - JUNGLEPUSSY

Help Me Lose My Mind - Disclosure, London Grammar

I.C.U. - Adore Delano

Welcome To My Island Remix - Caroline Polachek, George Daniel, Charli XCX

Flawless (Go To The City) - George Michael\

Cherry Picker - Heddy Edwards

Icy - Kim Petras

Do I Love You - Lady Gaga

Solar Power - Lorde

Misery Business - Paramore

Dancing On My Own - Robyn

Anti-Hero - Taylor Swift

#february #2023 #lastfm #last.fm #music #spotify #music blog #musicblr #music tumblr #listening #listening to music

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carolap53 · 2 years

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November 22, 2022

Praying in Partnership With the Holy Spirit KAREN WINGATE

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español

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.” Romans 8:26-27 (NIV)

Dear Lord, I prayed, peeking at my prayer journal in front of me, these ladies need You.

Pausing, I searched for my next words. They’ve walked away from You … they’re ignoring You … and they’ve forgotten that You really can fix the situations they’re facing.

The facts laid out, I launched into my petition: Can You wake them up and —

I stopped. To my ears, this sounded judgmental and clumsy at best. I was making a mess of this “prayer” thing.

While I was once close with the women on my prayer list, I’d lost contact with them over the years, only hearing about their tough life situations from social media or friends and family members. My heart broke when I heard two of them had renounced their faith in God.

Prayer is now the greatest influence I can have in their lives. But how should I pray for them? Many times, I find myself just reciting the list of names, trusting that God knows what they need better than I do.

We all know prayer is a significant part of our faith journey. Yet one of the greatest hindrances to a healthy prayer life is the same one I face: “I don’t know the words to use,” I often hear new and not-so-new believers say. We feel clumsy, limited and so very human.

That’s why I love Paul’s encouraging words from Romans 8:26-27: “In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God.”

How reassuring! God’s Holy Spirit lives within us. God knows our deepest thoughts, even the thoughts we can’t put into words. The Holy Spirit interprets our wordless groans and infuses our squeaky, one-word calls of “Help!” He translates our faulty theology and revises our rough-hewn grammar to align with His will and His plans for the person we’re praying for.

How does this happen? Perhaps you’ve had a taste of this in everyday life. You become so close to a friend or your spouse that you can complete each other’s sentences. When one person’s tongue gets tangled, the other — instead of correcting the mistake — says, “I knew what you meant.”

In time, like any other skill, our efforts at prayer will improve. We’ll crave to know how to pray more specifically. I find myself imploring the Lord, Show me how to pray for this person. Many times, sometimes even within that day, I’ll find out details about them that help me specify my prayers.

Yet even in my finest moments of verbal clarity or in my closest relationships, I have to admit God still knows the person and the situation better than I do, and the Holy Spirit is still doing His work of intercession on my behalf.

God knows us more intimately than the human beings closest to us. As we stutter over our prayers, God, in His grace, smiles and says, “I know what you mean.” Better yet, He’ll add, “I’m ready to help.”

Lord, thank You for Your partnership in my prayer life to fill in the gaps of my fragmented prayers for others. Help me grow in my communication skills with You, and in the meantime, thank You for Your grace and patience with my prayer life. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.

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saraloveliness-blog · 2 years

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I Wish that I Had Duck Feet by Dr. Seuss writing as Theo. LeSieg illustrated by BTOBEY

!!This book is sort of funny if you have a cheesy sense of humor!!!

!!This book, unlike many engaging children’s picture books, is actually a fun book to read aloud to kids!!!

Now for the unpleasant, “suckable” aspects of this classic:

I hate the revelation I received from this book about human nature. It would be cool to have duck feet right? Not if your mom won’t even let you walk on your duck feet in your own home. It would be cool to have an elephant’s trunk right? No. Then your dad will make you clean all the cars and windows. And if you had a cool long tail, your childhood nemesis gone use it to tie you to a tree. (Sorry for the bad grammar.) Other people suck. Here’s why: It doesn’t matter what characteristics you want to have or what you want to be; what impacts your quality of life is how other people respond to your characteristics. I don’t want to worry about other people. I never have when considering what characteristics I wanted to have. This book has shown me that a stupid fictional kid who wants to have duck feet has more empathy, more imagination, and more shrewdness than I have ever had. LORD sweet Jesus, help me to consider other people’s responses to the world of possibilities within my own rectum. I am trying not to cuss on this blog.

At the end of the book, he comes to the conclusion that being a regular human boy will suit him just fine. Theo, Theo, this is not a happy ending. It is more boring than, “They all lived happily ever after.” Of course he is best adapted as a human boy to his human boy environment. I’m pretty well adapted to my parents’ “palatial estate.” Which leads to the fact that a boring setting shapes you into a boring person. Theo, he could have gone to outer space. He could have gone into the jungle. There was so much imagination in this book and so little development, which leads to the fact that I am retarded.

3. Now for the poetic application: Long ago, I wrote, “I would I were.” Now I am going to imagine how other people would respond if I were my woulds.

I would I were a blessing

In gaudy floral raiment dressing. ---- People would criticize my terrible fashion sense and then lie and say, “I ain’t say that.” Then I would cry and get upset because either I’m hallucinating, or my cohorts are lying parcels of nasty.

I would I were a light

Guiding even seekers who’ve lost their sight. --- Blind seekers cannot see my photons and I am useless.

I would I were enthusiastic, refulgent, and true

Always thinking gorgeous thoughts of pink and blue. --- Don’t happy people who tell the truth when it is not wanted tend to get on people’s nerves?

I would I were a gardener planting the seeds

Of righteous orange and purple dares and deeds. --- I like orange. Most people do not. Dares are for stupid teenagers. Alas, I was in my twenties when I wrote this. I was an idiot then too. I tried to do the above by taking a homeless couple into the palatial estate. My family was not enthused.

I would I were loving and good

Prancing through the sylvan acre in the nude. --- Loving and good, raped and misunderstood, locked up and out of my hood.

Loving and feeding the homeless and sick,

Blessing and praying for the dead and the quick. --- I tried to do the above with a good friend who was both homeless and sick and slapped his face when he suggested that we shag like mammals (my words not his). Possibly because of this, he hates my guts and thinks I am racist. I prayed for people at the mental health center. I would spend hours staring down at the caseload and praying for people on it. I prayed my way into poverty and unemployment --- and sent ugly emails, and screamed at my supervisor, apparently, praying for people without blessing them is a little like a drek sandwich with no bread next to some artificial sunflowers. Artificial sunflowers are cool, but the scent of butt hole is more overpowering.

I would I were adroitly bada--

Running over with profanity and sass,

Sharp tongued like the wicked Auntie Mame.

I would I were anything but lame. --- Some things are best left in the imagination and never manifested.

I would I were a bubbly librarian. --- Been there. It was the best, except for bungled programs, bad kids, and people complaining about how loud WE were, since I was louder than the kids.

I am bored and do not feel like “explicating” the rest of this vomit poem. Go happy, imaginary readers.

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todokanai-suishou · 3 years

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Excerpt of a fic I didn’t know I still had

Vanilla Twilight - an excerpt of what used to be a ceo!JJK AU fanfic written at three AM somewhen in november. I don’t know why I didn’t choose names.

Neither do I know why I’m posting this. Good Night. WC: 2,4k

„As many times as I blink I'll think of You tonight“

It's been what? Three months now? Yeah, it must have been about three months since she told him „I don't want to see you again.“ Three Months since the love of his way too young life just stumbled out of it completely, three months since he's been drowning himself in work,

and yet, only two days since his father told him not to.“You need a break“ he said. „You'll die before you reach my age if you keep overworking like that.“ „Take a leave for the next week or so, the company won't go down in flames because you're missing for a few days.“

But yet it felt like the company was the only thing that held him together anymore. It may have been unhealthy to work that much, but sitting on his rooftop right now and starring at the sun that was setting wasn't any better. The company might not have missed him, but he missed her and if he was wide awake like that, from the lack of work or excercise to keep him from falling asleep as soon as he even saw a bed, it was worse.

There was nothing to distract him now. No means to make up for what he had done and no reason to not think of her this very second

on this very day, that once was so special to them both.

A tear ran down his face as he gripped the magnetic bracelets tighter with his left hand. Two years had passed since he's got his.

„If my heart was a house, you'd be home.“ they'd say. The compasses reacting to each other wildly, needles swinging left to right beneath the glass as the bracelets were pressed together.

At one point, after she left hers at his place that night, he stopped wearing his. Though for the time being, he still looked into the little flowery treasure chest in his closet to see if hers was still with his, Hoping she'd secretly somehow come to sneak in and steal it like she did his heart three years ago, or that it was all a bad dream and he woke up with her next to him like they did on every trip, or back somewhen two and a half years ago when she fell asleep in his apartment after watching some movie he didn't want to watch in first place. He still hoped, wished, dreamed he could go back to that.

And every time it was devastating. It was devastating to see her bracelet next to his, lying there and just pointing at the other as theirs would if they were within a few metres.

But she wasn't. And he had no idea where the hell she was. And it killed him. It killed him when he told her she'd never change, that he made her say good bye instead of letting her into his apartment, when he was the only one she trusted with her deepest thoughts, the only one she felt whole around and when she was the only one he ever really loved that loudly, and he didn't tell her until she walked out of his life,her still saying „I'm sorry“. When, to him, he was always the one that should be saying sorry for the things he said and did that night.

Or maybe they shouldve both just said sorry, talked it out.

He sighed „no.“ She made it clear that she didn't want to talk. She didn't want him to apologize, or at least not accept it. Letting her pride led by the pain get in the way ...and that was just what it was.

He created a hole in both their hearts and for a second he contemplated just throwing both of these bracelets down the 24th floor into the rose planted and flower filled garden, so he wouldn't find them even if he tried - and They could fall anywhere.

Another sigh from him as he clenched his hand tighter around the bracelets, holding them up as though he was ready to throw them as soon as the sun would have fully set.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

He just got flashbacks of that night when she gave it to him.

„I swear to god if you ever lose or break yours, or if I see another person with it, I'll kill you.“ she'd say smiling, but he fully knew she meant it. „There's only two of them“ „They were custom made.“ They were his blessing and now his curse. He looked up into the sky, somehow trying not to cry while it seemed like the same full moon from back then came to taunt him now, laughing at him with „Tsuki No Usagi“ laughing along at how pathetic he was.

But he cried. He cried a lot, clutching both of these bracelets over his heart. He couldn't do anything to them. He knew he wouldn't.

Except for the smell of her perfume on the couch pillow she prefered to lean her head on and hug, they were the only thing of hers that was still with him and he thought that maybe, just maybe...

in another universe he'd still be with her, with these bracelets.

And maybe in this world one day, he'll get her back, give her the bracelets and somehow everything goes back to normal. Despite the trust being broken, the wishful thinking didn't stop. A sillouette to build him up again.

However when he cried his last, he didn't mean to get up. Something drew him to the stars that night. All he got was a blanket before tiredly making his way back up just to continue whatever he meant to do.

He fell asleep a few hours after getting the blanket she gave him, on the roof that night, in between looking up at the stars, looking up at the constellations trying to find the ones she tried to show him before. Failing miserably, like tonight, two years ago, and almost laughing through the tears he shed, at how she showed him a million times and he still couldn't figure out all that astrology stuff, or how they worked, and so “well”.

All he knew was that looking for even the slightest signs of stars and constellations in the sky, brought him a little closer to her.

Maybe she'd be looking up tonight too, probably in a different timezone, to a different time, he didn't know.

But what the did know was that for a second, while actually finding the little bear, he was happy. „I did it,love, I did it.“ For the first time in forever while thinking about her, he actually smiled.

It was a weird feeling of, not quiet feeling content, but better, a little less sad. Maybe he'd always spend like three hours just ripping strands of his black hair out while trying to find anything in the sky. Texting you like he did that night.

“And love, you won't see it, but, I did it. I found one of the constellations, I bet you'd be so proud now. I'm still lost though. I wish you were here with me. To tell me about all of them. And your days. And you and what I missed And see your probably already new hair do and hear you laugh and rant about your literature professor. I just want to see you. Hear you. Happy. And mostly I want to give you your bracelet. I can't even remember which one was yours though. Please remind me.”

A lie. He knew exactly her bracelet had a little slit on one of the wooden pearls, as he accidentally lost track of the knife while cooking. He was apologizing so many times that night while she yelled about him almost chopping her arm off and he almost had to laugh again. She raged that night, but eventually they'd laugh about it later on.

„JK, I'd never forget“ he wrote below a photo he sent. Him wearing his bracelet for once while looking at how the compasses searched for each other. Knowing well the photo wouldn’t reach her though. That she still had him blocked, yet...

Wondering if one day she'd search for him again. Knowing she'd be the only one who could find him instantly.

„Good Night, flower girl.

I Really Miss you terribly“

„Sincerely, me“ he typed, deleted „yours tru-“ deleted.

„- The dumb ass that almost chopped your arm off about 16 months ago.“

If she could read it, she'd no doubt, be laughing but for now he'd hoped someone else would make her laugh the way he used to.

That she could focus on her studies and not the loss of him and the few grams she no longer carried around with her.

He wished her to be as happy as he can't be right now, as happy as she can be and with other, possibly better people, who would treat her well. Also that she got better at smash bros and mario cart so people wouldn't laugh at her being terribly bad again.

„Maybe I should also take on drawing lessons“ he whispered before tiredly closing his eyes „but I guess if she ever found out, she'd be the one to almost cut my arm off“

slight reminders of her telling him the only thing she was really good at was drawing and how she showed him and he really didn't figure out how anything worked at all flashed in his mind as he calmed.

„I'll teach you“ and only she could.

Well, technically she couldn't. He was a hopeless case and they both knew. Clowns. Clowns in love, for she loved him as much as he loved her, but the words always stayed unsaid. She'd make an impression that she did the night he ruined her, but he was too far gone.

Never from her mind though. He was still what she'd draw on the weekend when she was not in the mood for her theses or working. He. Though painful, was still her healing in some kind of way.

„You're working on that again?“ Her new dorm mate said as she sketched his face from memory. They had a different model in the art class she enrolled in right now but the face portraits still always went back to him. Much like the pictures where someone posed with scrunched up noses or peace signs.

She really didn't mind it though, for some reason, unless she found the initial sketch of their bracelets, drawing him was therapeutic, falling asleep on those pictures was therapeutic.

And her just getting a hick up as she started sketching reminded her „If you get the hick-ups, someone's thinking about you. My mom used to say that.“ She laughed back when she told him one night at one of their week-end trips, half drunk and laughing. Him responding with „Yeah, or someone talks badly about you, my three times divorced and landlord-hated aunt said. She had a hick-up problem.“

More laughter to the backround noise of „if my heart was a house” followed by slurred lines of „sugar we're going down“ and „american idiot.“

She chuckled quietly. „Oh shut up, I want to sleep“ her roommate exclaimed. It wasn't that late though, was it?.

Seven pm, still early, the sun not yet setting. Yet, with the full moon above, she couldn't wait for the sunset, night fall.

She stared at her phone. „Approximately 15 Minutes till the sun starts setting and you usually can't fall asleep until it's getting cotton candy skied, what's wrong this time?“ a chuckle escaped her mouth.

„Bad break up.“ the other girl murmured. „That's the 4th time in 15 days. I think you should get a new guy.“ - „That's also the third in a month. Love just doesn't work for me, believe me.“

„It will.“ The artist said. „Even if the person you think you'll end up with isn't the one, one day, with the right person, it all will.“

She didn't realize tears were falling on her piece of paper as she switched to his contact on her phone, contemplated unblocking him, but eventually she didn't.

It would be better this way. She said good bye and it was irreversible. It always was irreversible for her. Gripping her empty wrist and letting go of the pen for a while she smiled through the tears and said, in a cheerful yet shaky voice.

“Even if it wasn't him, one day, there's someone who won't leave, who you won't leave. One day, I promise.“

Not knowing if it was to reassure her friend, or herself and not realizing she held her breath, until she felt two arms and a blanket wrap around her signaling that „everything will be okay, precious, everything will be okay“

and for once, even without her telling the context of the story no one really knew about, she started to let down her walls and cry to let out the emotions all the parting had led her to.

Even if her friend didn't know or understand her infatuation with Jeons son. She just held her as though the fragile soul, whining loudly like a child that fell and came running with a bleeding knee, would break if she wasn't there to give her the warmth she deserved and obviously needed in that very second.

„You know, I miss him so much.“ a little inaudible whisper said and her friend didn't understand what she meant, but „shhh, shhh, it gets better.“ Came from her until her roommate fell into a deep slumber.

All she saw was the name on the display that wouldn't go off. The display picture looking quite familiar.

Name saying „Jeon Jeon Jeon“ and the caring one wondered if the girl had been catfished and dreams crushed by that person on screen, and if that was exactly why she blocked that number. Ideas about unblocking him and investigating filling her head but then again, as much as she wanted to. She couldn't just meddle in a broken hearts story, especially not her friends.

So she kept her theoretic, tangled and still curious thoughts, knowing they'd stay just that - and left the blanket above the girl that was fast asleep, closing the book with the drawing of the Jeon boy and replacing it with a pillow to slobber on, instead of the art she created.

„Good Night, lovely“ she said as she went outside to take snapshots of the sky, making sure to get her friends beloved constellations on camera, as the sleeping beauty usually did herself. Sneaking in trying not to wake the other up again.

„Good Night, dumbass“ the artist almost fully asleep whispered as her friend said good night the way he did. Some things wouldn't fade and her roommates complaints the next morning, for insulting her, though accidentally, would be surely be one of those.

__________________________

It’s 3am and I have no idea why I’m posting this.

The Idea Of “Vanilla Twilight” is part of a ceo!Jungkook fanfiction I never posted because I usually don’t post my writing for..uh...reasons.

“If my heart was a house -” fanfiction was created on national novel writing month and is a full on trainwreck that might never be finished. The Name as Well as reasons for the writing & inspiration for the bracelet design is lowkey because “if my heart was a house, you’d be home” by Owl City was kind of their Song since they first met and they do be soulmates so... >-<

Said magnetic bracelets stam from the line “if my heart was a compass you’d be north” and basically have magnets pulling “needles” towards eachother whenever they’re close. (They’re custom made, which is why they’re that special to OC & him. Also expensive as hell and she’s a poor lit/art student.) It was partially brought up by OC in a former chapter after they lost eachother at a fully crowded market and didn’t find eachother again for about two hours despite being like 2 minutes away from eachother the whole time.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this it’s three AM lord help. Good Night.

#this was supposed to be a drabble #excerpts of stories #excerpt of a story #this was also supposed to be fanfiction #bad writiting #jesus my grammar lord help me

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the-bee-graveyard · 3 years

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The Fine Line

Chapter One

Wow, you stayed around long enough to read chapter two, thank you! Warning, this chapter’s going to be angsty because we’re getting more Brenda and Teresa interactions, you have been warned.

It will usually take me about a week for each chapter, but I was really excited so I wrote this one quickly. Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes.

Chapter summary: Minho and Sonya hold their plotting circle on the beach, and Brenda and Teresa are forced to be there together. Their plan has a very, um, what’s a good word, interesting outcome. Platonic Thomas reunion. Sonya and Minho finish each other's statements a little bit. This chapter’s going to be a bit longer because I wanted to do a few different events in this chapter, but usually I’ll try to stick to three parts/POV’s per chapter.

Let me know what you guys think! I love feedback!

TW: MENTIONS OF DEATH

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added): @izzymultifan

Chapter Two: The Fine Line Between Hatred and Hesitant Friendship

Part One: Teresa’s POV

Teresa had been an only child before the flare destroyed her life, but she was convinced that fate gave her Thomas to fill in the role of her brother. Sometimes it felt like she loved Thomas more than herself, more and more as she realized all the horrible things she’d done.

That's why it killed her knowing Thomas was mad at her.

He didn’t notice her standing near the tables meals were ate at, he sat with his back to her next to Newt. Frypan, Gally, and Minho saw her though, Frypan waved to her. She spoke to him yesterday, and he’d been quick to give her a second chance, and she was grateful to him. She needed the win yesterday after Brenda blew her off quickly.

She saw Brenda eating at a table with Jorge, glaring at her as she walked over to Thomas. Frankly Teresa didn’t care, she didn’t need Brenda’s permission to speak to Thomas, and Brenda couldn’t force Thomas to stay away from Teresa. He probably wanted to do that enough on his own anyways.

“Tom,” Teresa said, tapping her old friend on the shoulder, her voice small. “I’d like to speak to you for a moment. In private.” Newt looked up at her first, glaring at her. Thomas looked up at her next, his expression less rebate than Newt’s.

“Of course Teresa,” Thomas said, getting up off the bench. They walked over to the edge of the group of tables.

“I wanted to apologize,” Teresa said. “I tortured Minho and I got almost the whole right arm killed and I hurt you in a way I can never heal, and I can’t take those things back. I’ve wanted to so badly but I can’t. I understand if you never want to see me again, if you hate me, I can live with that. I just want you to know I regret it. If I could do it all over again I’d kill Ava Paige myself Thomas, I swear.”

Thomas didn’t speak for a moment, it had to be the most suspenseful moment of her life.

“I don’t hate you Resa,” Thomas said. “You saved Newt, I can’t hate you after you did that. And it’s not just that. I can’t hate you because I see me in you. I can see how easily I would’ve done the exact same thing you did, most people would have. You were manipulated Teresa, I can’t blame you for that. And I’ll never forget what you did, and I can’t speak for everyone else here, but I’m willing to forgive you.” Teresa pulled Thomas into a tight hug.

“That’s good to hear, because I’m pretty sure Brenda and Newt have already made up their minds on me,” Teresa said. Thomas chuckled.

“Newt’s the kindest person I know, and you saved his life. He’ll come around, Minho did, and you did worse to Minho than you did to Newt. Brenda’s stubborn, but she’ll come around too. She just needs time, everyone does. You can't expect everyone to just welcome you back with open arms, even if you did make the cure.”

“I’m surprised Vince even let me stay.”

“Oh he didn’t want to, Jorge fought on your behalf. Jorge said you’re just a child, and that Mary would’ve forgave you. He doesn’t like it, but he let you stay.” Teresa closed her eyes for a minute and pictured the kind doctor that saved Brenda’s life, Mary. She saw Mary’s lifeless body. She did that.

“I’ll make them forgive me one day Tom, I’ll do something.” Thomas offered her a friendly smile.

“I know you will Resa, you always do.”

Part Two: Sonya’s POV

They’d formed a circle on the beach. Sonya sat in between Aris and Harriet. Minho, Gally, and Frypan sat on the other side of Frypan, Minho and Gally’s hands intertwined. Brenda and Teresa sat on the other side of Aris, as far apart as two people next to each other could be. Harriet had her head rested in Sonya’s lap.

“Are we ready to start?” Minho asked. Everyone nodded, including Sonya.

“I assume you’ve all figured out why we’re here based on the absence of two people,” Sonya said. “Minho and I talked, and we’re sick of Newt and Thomas dancing around each other, so we’ve decided to do something about it, but we’re going to need your help. We’ve already discussed a plan.” Frypan raised his hand. “Yes, Frypan?”

“Is anything going to be against the rules?” Frypan asked.

“Absolutely, but nothing that big. We’re breaking the rules right now so don’t give me the speech,” Minho said.

“So what’s the plan?” Teresa asked. Sonya didn’t know how she felt about Teresa. Teresa had gotten Mary killed, both Aris and Sonya herself captured, and almost got her brother killed, but she also saved Newt’s life and everyone else seemed to have forgiven her.

“Our plans in phases,” Sonya said. “We’ll start phase one tomorrow morning. Minho’s going to go talk with Thomas later, and get him to talk about Newt. Minho’s going to have a walkie-talkie behind his back. Gally’s going to have the other walkie-talkie so Newt can hear everything nice Thomas says about him. Any questions?” Brenda raised her hand.

“What if Thomas doesn’t say nice things about Newt?” Brenda asked.

“Bren, sweetie, you’ve spent five seconds around Thomas before. You know he will. I officially declare this meeting of the get Newtmas together club disbanded, we’ll regroup tomorrow to discuss our progress,” Minho said as he stood up.

Part Three: Brenda’s POV

“Brenda! Wait!” Oh dear lord. Brenda sighed and turned around to see Teresa running towards her.

“What do you want?” Brenda asked as she kept walking, but Teresa had already caught up to her.

“I just wanted to tell you Thomas forgave me.” Teresa didn’t dress like most of the people at the safe haven, she wore a blue and white dress and her black hair down, because everything about her had to be special. Brenda rolled her eyes. Someone needed to give this girl a job and a reality check.

“Yeah, I know. He’s an idiot, that’s old news.” Brenda tried to walk faster to get away from the girl, but Teresa had longer legs and caught up with ease.”What the hell do you want from me?”

“I want you to like me,” Teresa blurted out. “Or at least, I want you to not completely hate me. We could’ve been friends Brenda, I want that.”

“If you don’t remember, since you seem to have very selective memory loss, WICKED killed my father and brother. My brother probably died in your precious mazes. If Jorge didn’t smuggle me out of WICKED when he worked for them, I would have died in your precious mazes,” Brenda lashed out. Forgiving Thomas for building the mazes was one thing because his apologies were genuine. Teresa was only sorry because everyone told her she ought to be. She didn’t see her fault in anything.

“I was a child Brenda, and I did what I was told. If Jorge told you to build a maze, you’d do it, wouldn’t you?” Teresa said.

“Don’t you ever compare Jorge and me to those heathen’s and you,” Brenda snorted.

“Please Brenda. One chance, that’s all I ask for,” Teresa pleaded, her big blue eyes starting right into Brenda’s soul.

“Fine,” Brenda sighed, already regretting this. “One chance. If you ruin that I’ll push you off the cliffs, I swear.”

“Thank you!” Teresa said, throwing her arms around Brenda, who shoved her off quickly. “Too soon.”

“Forever is too soon for that Teresa,” Brenda replied, trying to ignore the sudden coldness in the spots where Teresa’s arms had previously been.

Nope.

Not today fate.

Not this one. Literally anyone but this one.

Part Four: Newt’s POV

“Heyyyyyy there Newt,” Gally said, putting one of his arms around Newt.

“What are you up to?” Newt deadpanned. He’d known Gally long enough to know when the builder was up to something, and he was absolutely up to something now.

“Jesus, can’t a guy come talk to his friend who almost died without getting shucking interrogated?” Gally snorted. “I hid a walkie-talkie in Minho’s coat pocket, and I taped down the speaker button. Wanna hear what he’s up to?” Whatever Newt thought Gally would be up to, it wasn’t that.

“I mean, sure?” Newt replied. He didn’t know what the right answer could possibly be to the question, because the fact the question was even asked seemed pretty bad to Newt. Gally pulled the walkie-talkie out of his pocket and turned up the volume.

“Hey Thomas,” Minho’s voice said on the other end of the walkie-talkie, quite clear for something that was supposedly in his coat pocket. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course Minho,” Thomas replied. Newt loved the sound of Thomas’s voice. He loved everything about Thomas really, but he had a nice voice. He always spoke softer with Newt, even when he was angry. he’d been one hundred percent aware of how in love with Thomas he was since the day they met, and not just the day in the maze, the day Thomas pulled back that curtain in the WICKED lab. Newt had pretended to be asleep, but even then Thomas’s inquisitive nature had made his heart skip a beat.

“Don’t you think Newt’s hot?” If Newt had been drinking water he would have spit it out.

“I thought you and Gally were a thing now.” Thomas sounded even more confused then usual, so he must be pretty damn confused.

“I wasn't asking for me dumb shank. Yes or no?”

“Of course I think Newt’s attractive, everyone thinks Newt’s attractive.” Newt’s heart skipped a beat.

“What do you think his best quality is?” Minho asked.

“His hair. Or hands. Or eyes. Is this a trick question?” Thomas replied.

“Thank you for your input Tom, really helpful,” Minho said. Newt couldn’t listen any more. He looked up at Gally and solemnly spoke,

“Gally, I’m sorry mate.”

“What?” Gally said.

“I can’t believe Minho would lead you on like that. Don’t worry, I’ll reject him, I’m not interested in him anyways.”

“Newt, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Well I thought it was clear, but I’ll give it to you straight: Minho’s clearly into me, not you.”

#newtmas #brendresa #mingally #newt tmr #Thomas tmr #Brenda tmr #Teresa Agnes #minho tmr #Gally tmr #Sonya tmr #tw death mention #fix it fic #this chapters kind of all over the place but when is it not #the fine line

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glossyeon · 3 years

Text

natm || pt.1 || osh

*All credit goes to the creators of these images*

~𝘏𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘶𝘴𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘬𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘮…~

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Museum Curator!Sehun x Sculpture!Reader

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: sexual content, oral m recieving, fingering, dirty talk, degrading names during sex, rough sex, nudity, explicit depictions of sex, Sad scenes, Reader is a sculpture?, Swearing, Lot’s of grammar mistakes, heartbreaking and heartwarming scenes ahead…

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 1.6k

𝘼/𝙉: This has been a series that I’ve been dying to do for a very long time! I think Museum Curator!Sehun is such an uncommon paring that we need more of these days. Also inspired by Night at the Museum Movie Series... Enjoy!

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘖𝘩 𝘚𝘦𝘩𝘶𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘔𝘶𝘴𝘦𝘶𝘮 𝘊𝘶𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸, 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘰𝘤𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦𝘴 12...

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

At the strike of 12 o'clock midnight you are given the chance to come to life once more. No longer do the Velvet rope barriers that keep you motionless throughout the day block your freedom. You’ve done the same thing each and every night for the past thirty years since you were moved to this museum. Roam the halls and exhibits with your fellow friends of art that are bound to the grounds of this grand building just like you.

There’s your sassy and confident friend HyunA, which is better known as the girl with the pearl earring. Constantly chattering and gossiping about the cavemen’s in exhibit B, or the newly arrived valuables that belong in the Victorian history section.

Then there’s your calm and collected friend Mona Lisa, but you just call her by Lisa. Quite popular amongst the mummies in the Ancient Egypt section for some reason that you cannot out your finger on. The three of you have been together for the past decades, stuck to be stared, examined, and pick apart by the public eye. It’s not easy, but it’s what you were all made to do.

Stay perfectly still and be art.

Be the magnificent piece of history that people label you to be.

That night was the same as any other. The booming chimes of the grand clock in the entrance of the museum signalled the time had come for everyone. The time to live.

Soon, the stiff marble that you called your hair turned to luscious black locks, healthy and shining with brilliance. The pale cover that was your skin melted off to uncover a radiantly glowing hazel one. No one could deny that the beauty you obtained was less than perfect. You were the epitome of beauty, confidence, and love.

“Jesus Christ I think I’m gonna need to see a chiropractor after this” you signed in pain as you cracked the remaining hardened parts of your body. Standing in place for 12 hours was exhausting and cruel to say the least.

“You’re a sculpture. How on earth would you survive that painful session with a chiropractor? Your fine marble would bruise and dent the minute hands are laid on you.” Absurdity was evident in the voice that came from behind you. A voice with too many thoughts that had been kept hidden for so long that just ached to be heard...

“Taemin-“ you started out, tired of dealing with this again

“First of all, how would you even meet this chiropractor? We are bound to the halls of this museum!” He stated as if you weren’t reminded of this everyday. “And what would the chiropractor even say to you if you show up to them? “Oh why hello there nice to meet you, you must be that hundred thousand year old sculpture th-“

“Taemin!” You shrieked in annoyance. It wasn’t long before you clamped the tall mans mouth shut with your hand and warned in a threatening voice. “I’m popular, I’m beautiful , and I have many many friends in this exhibit that wouldn’t mind making a few dents in those kneecaps...” you said, emphasizing many.

The boy gasped in horror and pulled away from you before gulping in fear from your series expression. you sighed and proceeded to leave, your white dress floating behind you as you tried to find your friends. “I have no time to deal with you” you explained, swiftly walking away.

He called behind you “it’s not my fault that I’m constantly surround by my thoughts with NO ONE to talk too” he huffed and pouted his lips in a frown that you could already tell was there.

it wasn’t long before the shrieks and laughter that belonged to HyunA filled the History section next door. You smirked, leaning against the wall with your arms crossed. You couldn’t help stopping to witness the scene of your friend right before your eyes.

HyunA’s voice and chatter was dripping with charisma and curiosity. As the girl sat elegantly on one of the museum benches, the Norwegian cavemen fought and huddled to get a glimpse of her beauty and an earful of her words.

“And as his deep stoic eyes bored into my eyes, I knew right then and there. He was to be mine. From the tip of my tongue, to the ends of my toes, he owned me. Every inch and corner”

your best friend seductively read out each word of the novel in her hands, passionately describing the lewd contents that were about to come.

“Don’t you think that’s enough reading HyunA?” I commented, walking closer to the bench. The cavemen immediately moved to create space for the best friend of the woman they called their goddess.

I smiled at the eagerness visible in her eyes. “How on earth am I supposed to stop now when I’ve just started!” She explained, patting the heads of the cavemen like they were her pets. To be honest, they weren’t far from it, with their eyes overflowing with love and admiration.

“HyunA has taught us many important lessons during our nights!” One built and muscular man named Shownu stated, piling the agrees of many others as well.

One man named Chan then began to say, “HyunA has taught us the importance of love, sensuality, and passion” he declared, smacking his chest with his fist and roaring with pride. the others didn’t hesitate to join in as well.

Meanwhile, HyunA just seemed to stare virtuously at the men, admiring the fan club she had successfully accumulated during her read alouds. I shaked my head in disbelief and proceeded to swiftly snatch HyunA away from the male energy surrounding the room.

“HyunA” I begged. “Please don’t hang out with those men anymore, hm? It’s not good to waste your nights away by reading some fantasty romance to them” I tried to reason with my best friend but HyunA being HyunA, she didn’t hesitate to assure me.

“Oh Y/N,” she looked at me like I was a stray cat in need of help. “My time with boys like Shownu and Chan are just play times”. Brushing a hair behind my ear and while holding both my hands in hers, she went on. “I’m just trying to have a bit of fun before I meet The One” she declared, sighing at my clueless face.

I snatched the book that was still under her armpit and shaked it in front of her. “Reading the museum secretary’s hidden fan fiction won’t do anything to help you find love”

“give that back” she whined.

I pinched my nose bridge in disappointment and stress, raising the book high up in the air where she couldn’t reach it. As she was struggling to retrieve her precious novel, noises erupted from the ends of the halls.

“What now...”

The hallways outside the separate exhibits were especially loud at night. It’s a true mystery how the security guards and night shift workers don’t find out about us. Dinosaurs, extinct wildlife, and many many nude men were running rampant, overflowing with excitement and life.

“Yuna that’s a 4000 year old Naqada Vase your holding” I exclaimed, reaching out to snatch it away.

But Yuna wasn’t easily defeated. Being born of Victorian Royalty, Shin Yuna was quite a mischievous handful, never hesitating to get what she wanted.

“What, this one?” She smirked, dodging my actions and obviously playing dumb. Her small wrist went right through one of the handles, dangerously hanging it through one hand.

Letting out the 100th sigh that night, my footsteps carried me away from the chaos.

“If I don’t see it, I don’t know it” I mumbled to myself.

As HyunA and Yuna stopped to talk more about her petticoat, I made my way to the library of historical records. A place where not many of the historical artifacts went to enjoy their nights. But I preferred the quiet, peaceful setting as it was much more fun than getting pissed at by Napoleon Bonaparte.

Shuddering at the memory, I then opened the doors to the library. Greeted with the familiar scent of must and candle wax, I happily pranced along the endless supply of books.

Books from about the Ice Age to Modern Art surrounded me. My passion for reading could never bore me. Not in a million years.

I swiftly walked past the spines of each and every book, only to stop at an empty shelf. The section of famous poets and philosophers that I was just getting fond of had been apparently moved to the other side of the room. Frowning in annoyance I was just about to head back when I saw him.

The tall, slim, figure sitting at one of the tables, back covering the view of my presence. I stopped in my spot, frozen in fear as this man was definitely not one of the museum's peoples. At least not the usual ones on night duty.

The countless precautions put in place to avoid being caught by the workers and night guards had served its purpose for all this time. If there was anyone to see the magic that happened in these walls, we wouldn’t know what we would do.

Would we be taken away? Would we be shipped off to the CIA? Lord knows what would happen if I left HyunA and Lisa alone...

Although his face was covered with the cover of a book, there was no denying that his body was well crafted. The muscles under his black turtle neck stood out under the fabric, perfectly hugging his chest and arms. I felt quite a bit embarrassed with my sheer cloth dress, which was quite absurd considering practically everyone has seen the my crafted body. I carefully took a step back.

“The quicker I leave and warn the others, the better” I thought. Keeping my footsteps as light as I could, I made my way almost 2 feet away from the door. And that's when his words echoed in the silence of the library.

“You’re forgetting something aren’t you?”

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo fluff #exo angst #kpop fanfic #kpop series #kpop masterlist #oh sehun #sehun fanfic #sehun #glossyeon #fluff #angst #exo writing #sehun writing #kpop writing

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rosesareviolentlyread · 4 years

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WIJ Day 6: Water

SECOND PROMPT surprise yes it’s still Fae bb things. But this one is her perspective! Once again, this is a modern magic world heavily inspired by @0idril0 and @whumpywhumper‘s Nico & Markus/Lucien series respectively. (idk when I’ll stop plugging them and their series’ because I LOVE IT) I HIGHLY recommend you check them out.

CW: Intimate whumper, religious whump, captivity, toxic religion, toxic family, drowning/waterboarding, passing out from said water torture, creepy whumper

Besides the whole bathroom situation, it really isn’t any different than the intense bible study camps her parents would send to. Just the thought makes Faith’s heart ache, the thought of those times. So easy, so much taken for granted.

She will never take God’s gifts to her for granted again.

The Reverend isn’t bad per se. There’s a mini fridge down here filled with healthy snacks for her, chilled water, and leftovers for lunch. Every morning he whips up a bed & breakfast level creation: orange zest pancakes, eggs over easy on fresh baked bread with avocado and vegetables, bagels topped with salmon. Hell, she’s eating better than she ever did in her house. And he brings her fresh clothes, a rotating series of white dresses that remind her of Sunday School as a little girl.

But it doesn’t change the fact that the door out of the basement is locked. It doesn’t change the fact that all she has down here is a Bible and her thoughts, both illuminated by candlelight that dances on the walls. She’d figured out after the first day that it was sound proof, for some reason. A reason that chills her, that she doesn’t think about.

Because he cared. That’s what this was. Every day, he’d take time over dinner with her to discuss the Bible, Jesus, salvation for people of magic like her. Helped her meditate and pray, focus her mind where it had wandered away from Him. She knew it had, knew she had started to get deeper into the magic community, to drift away from the church that had been the cornerstone of her entire life. But isn’t that what growing up is? Exploration and growing?

Most people just don’t tend to grow into a magical heritage they had no idea of.

The worst thing is when he makes her watch the videos. Read the press releases. The news clippings, the facebook posts, the tweets. Never on a device, always printed, in black and white ink she can pour over for hours as if it’ll change things. Change the fact her parents have really disowned her. Literally, in every sense. Attempting to declare her - their real child, the one her real mother had put her in the place of as a changeling - as dead. It’s awful to read people’s posts, opinions, the ways they tear apart her thesis without having read it. Or if they have, they choose to scrutinize details and grammar rather than her intent.

But none of it, not a single word is from Adam. He’d been in the background of the first few videos behind her parent’s speeches. And then nothing. Gone. Somehow that absence, even from words of hatred makes her feel hollow, the way the days without a message from him did. A response. He hated her, she knew, but to hate her so much he couldn’t even come out and say it?

It's exhausting, so much so she’s grateful when the Reverend lets her read the Bible instead.

The source, the True Word. It’s comforting, words that slide in and out of her mind so easily she’s had to start marking it up over and over to stay focused. Based on her counts hidden in the pages, she thinks it’s been about a month, and she’s on her second copy now. The first is more penmarks and highlight than words anymore.

In a way it’s started to feel...better. Everything. All the awful things, all the thoughts so far away in the real world. Sometimes she wonders how her magic friends are. If they care or remember her. They certainly aren’t looking for her, no one is after her post about leaving to ‘go find herself’. For all the media is concerned, she couldn’t take the criticism and vanished.

It’s like Bible Camp. Just a time to refocus herself, her efforts, get it together. The Reverend has helped a lot with that, assured her this is only temporary, only for the safety of her soul. She hated him at first, hated all of this, screamed, but now, she just wants out. She just wants to appreciate the world again, to be able to love every part of it in her bare hands instead of her imagination surrounded by concrete walls and candlelight.

It’s why she perks up when he finally says, “You’ve done well, Faith. I think you’re ready.”

“Ready for what Reverend?” Faith tries to keep her voice innocent, humble, to not betray the excitement that makes her heart flutter in her chest, a moth as desperate to escape to the sunlight as she is.

“To become purified again, my dear. You have been sullied, but I believe you have embraced Christ again as your savior. Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.“ The words are so familiar in his dark voice, one that has followed her throughout her college career, but right now, they’ve never sounded so beautiful.

“Romans 6:3-4” The words come automatic now, a product of the quizzes she’s been subjected to every day. Before this, she had known her bible well. But now it feels like they are imprinted in every wrinkle in her mind, honeyed ink colored by his voice she doesn’t think she’ll ever erase.

But if she can get out of here, she can recolor it. Color it in love and forgiveness. Forgive him, for this, for all this. He was simply following what he thought best right?

Hell is full of good meanings after all.

“Yes, good. Come, I set up the tub in the other room” The other room. The one that’s locked, that she’s never seen the inside of. She’s seen the Reverend go in there before. Heard only gospel music reverberate loudly through the door. She’s imagined maybe it’s a study, perhaps a secret collection. Or a music room of sorts, since he loved to ‘feel’ music, with speakers to boost the bass. But now, it holds a tub? Still, her confusion is outweighed by the prospect of freedom.

Gently, he helps her from her kneeled position, the one that makes her knees ache in a way she longs for, only because it’s something that reminds her this is real. She is real. She will get through this, as the Lord intends.

The room itself is shockingly spartan. It’s rectangular concrete, blotted and patched over time like the ugliest watercolor of brown and grey. A spigot in the corner has a green hose attached, laughably out of place as it fills a large basin, what looks like a trough.

Something in her asks why she hadn’t seen him bring it down, thinks to the dinners and evening teas where she felt too tired to continue talking. But she crushes it under the belief that this is release, and she shouldn’t question God’s Plan.

This has to be God’s Plan.

“Come” Is the command as he beckons her into the tub. Slowly she lowers herself down to her knees, breathing in. God, it’s hot. She’d expected it to be freezing, but it feels more like that sudden dip into a hot tub in the winter, and overwhelming burn that leaves her skin tingling as she struggles to adjust, to focus.

“Thank you Lord, for bringing this lamb to my flock. For allowing her to grow under your light, to fail, so that she may grow greater for it. So that we may bring people into your light, and show that none of us are born sinners, or are abandoned for sinning. I do not know if I would have discovered this path you have intended for me without her, so I thank you. Truly, You are great.”

A thick hand, so much stronger than she ever realized before this basement, hold her arms crossed to her chest. The other cups the back of her head, gentle, but with a grasp that digs into her scalp in a way that would send a shiver down her spine if the water wasn’t so hot why did he make it so hot?

“Because of your Faith in Jesus Christ, I baptize you now in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit”

There’s barely time to grab a breath before she’s dipped back into the water, which hasn’t cooled, not at all. It burns on her face, a feeling like her face is being held over a fire, moments ticking by as the heat goes from uncomfortable to unbearable. It forces the air from her lungs until Faith’s left gasping as she’s pulled back up.

But something’s wrong, because the Reverend looks angry.

“Because of your Faith in Jesus Christ, I baptize you now in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!”

“Reverend wh-” The words are cut off as she plunged back into the water and how is it hotter? How is it getting hotter and hotter until she’s surrounded by boiling water, a lobster clawing out of its skin as it cooked, a witch melting into a puddle.

But it’s worse because he isn’t bringing her up. She thrashes, tries to buck against his hand as what little breath she had trails away in bubbles, hopes releasing on the surface far away from her. But the hands just dig in. How are they not burning? How is he not burning?

Her eyes open in desperation, trying to see. It’s a mistake. Even as she shuts them they are being boiled alive inside her head, eggs cracked on pavement in the summer sun, a snail covered in salt by sadistic children.

Just as she doesn’t think she can hold on any longer, he brings her up. The only response she can do is gasp for air.

This time, as she blinks through blurred vision she thinks his face isn’t angry, but..sad? That his visage of fear and pain matches her own.

But the words come again, faster, with desperation dripping away any hope she has until she grasps a last gasp of air

“Because of your Faith in Jesus Christ, I baptize you now in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!”

It’s no better, even as her own tolerance for it increases. It seems a battle is waged. Is this what those women burned on pyres she learned in history class felt like, dying for a husband? Is this what witches burned at the stake in Salem felt like?

Is this what hell feels like?

Her skin must be burning off, burning away at muscles as the water eats every bit of her like acid, inside and out. The air runs out too quick, too fast, and her body twitches violently, trying to get away from the nothing that’s creeping in the corners of her vision. Some base instinct cries out and she tries to scream, only for the water to come rushing in.

Volcanoes are fountains of pain, she decides, as lava runs through her veins, burning away her voice, her lungs.

Burning away her belief in good intentions being anything but hell itself

Burning away her hope that there is anything that will end this except death

Burning away her awareness until there is nothing left but nothing. No light at the end of the tunnel. No sudden darkness. Nothing is an absence, and Faith has never been anymore.

Coughing is the next thing she remembers. The concrete is blessedly cool against her cheek, even as its hardness presses on her skin that feels tender all over, like a sunburn. Lazily blinking through the tears in her eyes, she sees it looks like that: freshly pink.

Like a cotton candy, something that’s slowly unhinging inside her laughs.

The Reverend’s shaky hands are petting her head, and he’s speaking but she can’t hear over the water that’s still burning her ears. Everything about her feels like a wasteland, a brushfire gone wrong that’s left the land salted and barren. She wishes to go back to the nothing, to the safety of not being here, no longer on fire but doused into damp ashes of who she once was. Who, she knows somewhere deep inside her, she will never be again.

But the world will not stay quiet, and eventually she becomes aware of his words as he shifts her, so that she’s sat up leaning against his chest. The warm arms wrapped around her, gently rocking no longer feel like safety. They feel like a prison.

His voice in her ears is honey that has led her into a spiderweb she’s spent her whole life spinning, a fly creating its own trap.

“Shhh, shh, that’s it, just breathe. I’m sorry, Faith, I’m so sorry. I wanted to believe. That you were ready. That you believed. Lacing the water with iron was a failsafe, a way to burn away the last of the sin. But I know, the wicked tongue of the Fae. It deceives even you, yourself. But we’ll fix it. We will help you believe, not just in pretty words, the truth of Jesus’ salvation. We’ll need to have faith, make changes.”

She wants to make a response, a retort of some proverb or biblical story or line but her brain feels burnt out, bleached to nothing as everything she was is eaten away. All that comes out instead is a wet sob that quickly turns into more coughing.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’ve got you. Don’t speak.” The suffocating comfort continues quietly for a moment. “We’ll start with barebones. Make sure you understand completely what you are. Yes, that’s it, you must not have truly believed of the sin you are born with.” It doesn’t matter what she believes, she realizes. What she was born as will never change to things like iron, no matter how hard God or the Reverend tries. Hadn’t a major critique of the magical community been the lack of miracles, real miracles? To not be what she was would be a miracle.

And any belief she’s had in miracles, well, the water has purified that.

“From now on, we’ll make sure you know. Your name will be Fae, until you have earned back Faith”

Faith though has been abandoned in the true face of God.

Tags: @bleedingandfeverish @sableflynn @starry-whump @whumpmasinjuly (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!)

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