None of Us Are Going BackTim is five, ten, no, twenty, or fuck it, he is a hundred years old. He is shaking. He is calm and collected, the sky after a thunderstorm, clear and cold and ready. He is a god, and he is a cockroach, and he is
( ... )
They move toward him and the train sways. They move toward him and Tim doesn’t know what they’re planning to do, only that they’re doing something. The train sways and something scrapes across the floor toward him. Gun he thinks.
He grabs it.
It’s heavier than he expected, and cold like someone’s hands when they’ve come in from a storm. It’s not cold like normal metal. It feels like it’s alive. It feels like it’s talking to him. It feels like he knows what to do, although maybe he shouldn’t.
Later, when he’s older, Tim will think of those moments as a blur of strange coincidences. Later, when he’s older and knows more, Tim will think that he should’ve held a gun younger-that his father should have taught him. Later, Tim will think that if they’d only left the safety on, if he’d only known a little more, or they a little less-
The train sways and the men move toward him and Tim thinks gun and the air shatters. The door sings and cracks open then slams shut. It’s a second of glaring brightness in the coal stained car, but it’s long
( ... )
Oh my god. This is breathtaking. Honestly. I just sat here completely hooked and gone and it's September and Tim is fourteen and- what happens next. Oh god. This is amazing. And Ijust had to read it a second time because I wasn't ready to let go yet. The atmosphere is incredibly palpable and I love how you bring it back to that one canon scene with Art in the end because this is Tim and we know Tim, only we didn't know this. Aaah. I never thought my prompt would encourage something this beautiful. ♥
I was going to ask you if you've read Siken, but then I saw the title and now I'm pretty sure you have. ;) Because the style reminds me incredibly much of his poems, in all the good ways. So, yeah, this is pefect. Just so beautifully written. Will definitely reread.
I didn't see this until now. BUT! Thank you! This meme was actually the first time I've ever read Siken--someone had mentioned I write in a similar fashion, and I looked him up and I was like YES THIS GOOD and basically fell in love, and then used his stuff for a title because that's how I express my love for things (my other Tim!Fic is titled after a line from the things they carried which I mention only because FAVORITE BOOK EVER and I want everyone to read it all the time).
Anyways, I just dumped a lot of feelings about Siken and Tim O'Brien on you, but thank you for reading <3
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He grabs it.
It’s heavier than he expected, and cold like someone’s hands when they’ve come in from a storm. It’s not cold like normal metal. It feels like it’s alive. It feels like it’s talking to him. It feels like he knows what to do, although maybe he shouldn’t.
Later, when he’s older, Tim will think of those moments as a blur of strange coincidences. Later, when he’s older and knows more, Tim will think that he should’ve held a gun younger-that his father should have taught him. Later, Tim will think that if they’d only left the safety on, if he’d only known a little more, or they a little less-
The train sways and the men move toward him and Tim thinks gun and the air shatters. The door sings and cracks open then slams shut. It’s a second of glaring brightness in the coal stained car, but it’s long ( ... )
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And by blame I obviously mean thank, profusely.
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Anyways, I just dumped a lot of feelings about Siken and Tim O'Brien on you, but thank you for reading <3
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