#appalachianapologies

[brightmalcolm]

All of your posts today are making me YEARN we could be awaiting the season six finale eight now I'm going to bite a Fox executive

I know every time I remember what season we could be on if it wasn't canceled I get sad 😭 didn't even need it to go on for that long either like at the very least could we have gotten a full 22 episode season three with nothing cut short bc of COVID and a satisfying wrap up to the story!!!

[daltonsnightmare]

wait a minute is it your birthday??

it is!! freshly 22 as of today lol 😂

[satanicchristiancult]

HERE IT IS!!! Look what I finally got!! AAAAKK!! I’m so excited everyone!

-Mori

[saintsurvivors]

@appalachianapologies you know!!!!!! A thousand apologies but I’m so enthralled with writing this fic!!!!

A knock on the door has Mac straightening, hands tightening around one another before he uses one to grab a piece of toilet paper to wipe his mouth, spitting one last time into the toilet before flushing it. By then however, the toilet door has been shouldered open and then closed, and like he always does, Jack has made himself at home at Mac's side, sequestering Mac between Jack's side and the wall, a position of safety and overwatch familiarity from Afghanistan. Even when they’d been in FOBC, in relative safety, Jack had always made sure to put himself between Mac and the rest of the room, and it had extended to their everyday, nominally civvie life; in every hotel they’d ever been in, Jack always made sure that the beds were never too near the windows or the door, and Jack always had to sleep in the bed closest to either.

“So,” Jack says into oppressive silence, legs stretched out before him as best he can in the small plane bathroom. His thigh knocks against Mac’s ankle, his own legs tucked against his chest, hands carefully, obsessively tucked away. “Rough day, huh?”

Shoulder to shoulder, Mac can feel the warmth of Jack’s body, the curve of his well built shoulder, the bunch of his biceps as Jack taps what sounds to be the chorus of Stormtroopers by Sabaton out into the well worn denim of his skinny jeans. Mac finds himself leaning into Jack's shoulder, heavier than he meant but finding he can’t bring himself to care.

“Think that’s a bit of an understatement right now, man.” Mac murmurs, and even with just Jack's sheer presence, finds himself unfurling, untwisting out of himself into someone Mac could almost be proud of. Jack has always made Mac feel like that, as if he could do something good with his hands, with his life. He sinks further against the sink cupboard, letting himself go somewhat boneless with the relief of knowing Jack is here.

[saintsurvivors]

o k fine i'll bite. crucify my boy please 👉👈

@appalachianapologies <333333

tw; crucified character, hurt/whump, blood, graphic descriptions??

Time passes in increments.

Seconds, to minutes, to hours; they each pass like grains of sand through Mac's hands, dripping to the floor, scattering across his knuckles, meandering from between his fingers down to his wrists.

Time - and blood - pool beneath him, stretching further and further into the looming darkness until all that is left is Mac, and pain, and all the blood he can see in the guttering torchlight, an oceanic puddle of it he wants to drink down, to wet his throat.

He can almost touch it, dip the very top of his toes into it if he stretched just a little further, but what use is blood to him when he wishes to taste it, instead. Imagines he can taste it, copper pennies and metal when he tries to swallow, a knife gape wound slashed across his throat with each and every swallow.

Each desperate, fervent movement brings only pain, throat digging further into his collar of thorns, forced upon him by negligent hands when Mac had proven capable of throwing it from atop his head. Instead, belligerently, they had wrapped it around his throat, tight enough to sting, to cut.

Each thorn is a single second, a single minute, a single hour. Time is a haze, and time is blood that leaks steadily from him like a faucet.

Each drop of blood that falls from his wrists, from his ankles is sufferance, a mark that Jack has not been able to find him. It's a monument to the way Mac had fought and fought, and yet, with a single prick of a needle and a rush of anesthetic, had been so steadily overpowered in his own bed.

"Please-" Croaked out, cracked and weak. His parch throat silences him, a slash of pain that flees him, sinking into the rest of it. Only silence answers him, and the guttering torchlight falls silent too, batteries ran dead.

Only darkness, only blood, only heavy needles through his ankles, his wrists.

"Help me!" Torn from an already battered throat, and lighting rips through him as he struggles, lurching forward, chest heaving, he can't breathe- he knows why but he wishes he didn't, please he just wants to go home. "Help me! Help! He...help me."

From rage to helplessness, from screaming to begging, Mac chokes on his own sobs, feeling the renewed sluice of fresh blood that seeps from his wrists, torn further open by his futile struggle.

He wants to go home.

[robbyrobinabitch]

what about "toxic" and "huh"

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in. nothing for toxic but i do have for "Huh"

"“Huh?” Frank asked over a spoonful of cereal. “The cut on your cheek is going to get infected if you don't clean it properly, I can feel the area is warmer than it needs to be, it doesn't smell infected yet though.” “You can smell infections?”

This is from my ongoing Frank/Matt Injury Jar series

[robbyrobinabitch]

for the ask game:

"trash" and "king"

... :D

Send me a word, if it’s in my wip document I’ll answer your ask with the sentence that it appears in. hiya bestie thanks for the ask<3 but i regrettably inform you in my 7 wips theres not one time i wrote Trash nor King :((

[robbyrobinabitch]

mint and gold :D

Gold: do you wear your socks mismatched?

Yes. I’m very Reid coded in that. I am too lazy to pair them up

Mint: favourite flavour of gum?

Mint. 100% love me some mint gum