#i also wanted to participate in jmart week and the entire time i was making stuff i was like

[orderforbrian]

hihihi i am a HUGE fan of Sea Glass Promise and your art like it's so DELECTABLE

do you plan to continue it? it was left on a cliffhanger and my body is screaming at me to read it for the like 20th time because i need MORE

yes we are! im the main writer and artist but we update really slowly - i have chronic pain and fatigue and also got promoted at work (yay!) but this means i work 40 hours now instead of 30 (boo...) so i havent had nearly as much free time as usual the past couple months. on top of it there were a lot of celebrations i had to attend or host this past month so my weekends were shot too 😭 im hoping to get it posted sometime this month.....fingers crossed 🤞 i promise it will become a finished story eventually 😊 thank you so much for reading and being a fan!!! im REALLY really excited for this next chapter, its the climactic turning point of the story - i'll tease a little sneak peek below 😜

Fast approaching an alcove, Jon practically hurdles the surrounding rocks, bag thumping off his waist, and while the feat was impressive by his own standards, the landing is less than such. 

Midway down, his ankle collides with something hard and sends him tumbling into the sand. His bad shoulder takes the brunt of the fall and he curses, gritting his teeth as he stands on wobbly knees. Turning to the offending object, what he makes out is actually a person, hunched over and groaning in similar pain. Under normal circumstances he’d stay and apologise (and wouldn’t be hurtling over rocks to begin with), but someone else desperately needs his help right now. 

He takes a step to sprint off again, words incomprehensible through his panting, “S-sorry, I’m in a hurry!”  

“Jon?”

The voice is weak, barely perceptible over the wind and the crashing waves, and yet it stops Jon dead in his tracks. 

He turns, slowly, to the stranger in the alcove. His throat clicks, words halting to a dry, trepidous stop. When he’s finally able to, the name he speaks is thick on his tongue. 

“M…Martin?” 

Bleary-eyed, Martin squints against the foggy daylight and sees Jon standing above him, unharmed aside from the cut on his shoulder. He exhales through his nose, something between a wheeze and a laugh. The sea, for all her beauty, has an unfortunate way of bleeding red no matter how little is spilt. At least one of them is faring well. 

“Oh, thank god. It is you…” Martin smiles, closing his eyes and resting his temple against the rock. 

“Martin—”

Time skips a beat, and so does Martin’s heart. 

“What are you doing here?”